The CEO's Contract Wife

The priest, Father Ben, was droning on about "eternal paradise" and "the Lord’s embrace," but all I could focus on was the bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck. It was thirty-four degrees in Taguig, and the humidity at the Heritage Park was suffocating. Father Ben spoke with the confidence of a man who played golf with the bishops, assuring us that my father was currently smiling down from Heaven. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing hysterically. My father, Roberto "Bobby" Alcantara, hadn’t stepped foot inside a church since the day my mother died. He was a man of logic, spreadsheets, and cold, hard cash. He believed in the stock market, not salvation. If he were here, he would have checked his Rolex, signaled for his driver, and left this "inefficient use of time" twenty minutes ago. I scanned the crowd. It was a sea of black umbrellas and designer sunglasses. Half the Senate seemed to be here, along with every business rival my father had ever crushed in a merger. My gaze landed on Lola Imelda. My grandmother. She stood in the front row, looking like the picture of grieving matriarchal grace, dabbing at dry eyes with a lace handkerchief. It was a performance worthy of a FAMAS award. She and Dad hadn't spoken in a decade—not since she tried to sue him for control of the holding company. But the moment his heart stopped, she swooped in like a vulture in pearls. She took over the funeral planning, insisting on a "state-like" burial for her "beloved son." I had let her do it. I was too shocked, too hollowed out to fight. I thought maybe she needed closure. But looking at the circus around me—the media vans outside, the floral wreaths that cost more than a car—I realized my mistake. She wasn't here for him. She was here to stake her claim on what he left behind. "Isabelle," a voice whispered beside me. It was Gio. My best friend. He squeezed my hand, his palm sweating against mine. I stared at the mahogany casket hovering over the rectangular hole in the ground. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant. Everyone was waiting for the daughter to make the first move. To throw the flower. To say goodbye. "Issa, you have to move," Gio murmured. Beside him, his mother, Tita Maritess, gave me a sympathetic, teary nod. The only reason I hadn't collapsed yet was the presence of the Sarmiento family. They were the closest thing to real family I had left. I stepped forward, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. I looked into the dark earth and felt a sudden, violent surge of panic. He can’t be in there. My dad was a force of nature. He was loud, brilliant, and indestructible. He couldn't be in a box. Who was going to advise me on the board? Who was going to walk me down the aisle? We were supposed to have more time. A large, steady hand gripped my shoulder, grounding me. I looked up. It wasn't Gio. It was his older brother, Nathan. Nathan Sarmiento. The CEO of Sarmiento Corp. He looked at me with his usual unreadable expression, but his grip was firm. He plucked a white rose from the basket and handed it to me. I took it, my fingers trembling, and let it fall onto the casket. "Steady," Nathan whispered, close to my ear. As the clods of earth began to fall, the sound was deafening. The crowd began to weep—loud, theatrical sobs from people who probably couldn't even spell my father's middle name. It made me sick. "Let's go," Gio said, appearing at my other side as the ceremony ended. "I'll drive you to the reception." I turned to him, desperate for the comfort of my best friend. But Gio wasn't looking at me. His eyes were darting toward the parking lot, where a girl in a tight black dress was waiting by a red sedan. Andrea. His new girlfriend. My heart sank. A few months ago, after too much wine, I had told Gio I loved him. Not as a friend, but really loved him. He had laughed it off nervously, and things had been weird ever since. Now, on the worst day of my life, he was checking his watch because she was waiting. "Go," I said, my voice dead. "Issa, no, I can—" "Go, Gio. Andrea hates the heat." Gio looked relieved. He muttered a quick apology and jogged toward her. He didn't even look back. "He's an i***t," a deep voice said. I turned to see Nathan standing there, keys in hand. He watched his younger brother drive away with a look of mild disgust. "He's in love," I said bitterly. "He's blind," Nathan corrected. He gestured toward the VIP parking slots. "Come on. I'm driving." He led me to the black Rolls-Royce Phantom. My chest tightened. This was their car. My dad and Nathan had picked it out together. They used to spend hours geeking out over engine specs and leather swatches. Dad always treated Nathan like the son he never had—the son he wished Gio was. Dad mentored Nathan, groomed him, and respected him. Sometimes, I felt like the third wheel in their relationship. Nathan opened the heavy rear door for me. The interior smelled like leather and my father’s cologne. "We need to talk," I said as Nathan climbed into the driver's seat. "About the company." Nathan’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. The warmth vanished, replaced by the sharp look of a businessman. "Not today, Isabelle." "We can't wait," I pressed. "I own 26%. Your family owns 25%. We control the board, but the stocks are free-falling. And the lawyer... he called me this morning. He said Dad’s will is 'complex.'" Nathan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. He called me too. He wouldn't give details over the phone, which means it’s bad. Knowing Roberto, he didn't just leave us assets. He left us a test." I slumped back against the seat, watching the gray skyline of Makati pass by. "I'm terrified, Nathan. I don't know if I can do this." "You don't have to do it alone," he said quietly. He pulled the car up to the entrance of the Summer Palace restaurant where the reception was being held. Valets in vests rushed toward us. Neither of us moved to open the door. We just sat there in the air-conditioned silence, dreading the noise and the fake condolences waiting inside. "Ready to face the sharks?" Nathan asked. I took a deep breath and put on my sunglasses. "No," I said. "But let's go anyway."