LOVE ON CONTRACT

Chapter 4: The Gala

The alarm went off at 5:00AM.

I didn't sleep.

The text from last night was still on my phone.

SLEEP EARLY. CAR AT 5:30AM. -T

5:30AM.

I was already dressed by 5:25.

Black dress. Simple. The only thing I owned that looked semi-decent.

My hair was in a low bun. No makeup.

The car was waiting downstairs.

Black. Tinted. Same driver as yesterday.

"Good morning, Mrs. Beaumont," he said.

Mrs. Beaumont.

The name still felt like a costume.

"Good morning," I whispered.

We drove through empty Makati streets.

The city was still asleep.

But the Beaumont Tower was awake.

The 50th floor office looked different in the morning.

Less intimidating. More... human.

Thunder was already there.

He was on a call. Shirt sleeves rolled up. Hair slightly messy.

He looked younger like this. Less CEO. More man.

He hung up when he saw me.

His eyes did a quick scan. From my shoes to my face.

His jaw tightened.

"That won't do," he said.

I blinked. "What?"

"The gala. You can't wear that."

He pressed a button on his desk. "Stylist is here. And makeup."

For the next 4 hours, I was not Sophia anymore.

I was a project.

Hair. Makeup. Nails.

Three dresses were brought in.

All red. Because "red is power" according to the stylist.

I picked the simplest one.

Blood red. Sleeveless. Fitted. Floor length.

No back.

"Perfect," the stylist said. "You look like a Beaumont now."

I didn't feel like one.

I felt like a fraud in expensive fabric.

At 11AM, Thunder came back to the fitting room.

He was in a black tuxedo now.

He stopped when he saw me.

For half a second, his mask slipped.

Surprise. Something else.

Then it was gone.

"You'll do," he said.

High praise from him.

The car ride to Shangri-La was silent.

Me in the back. Him on his phone.

But this time, his hand was on the seat between us.

Close. But not touching.

"We go in together," he said without looking up.

"Smile. Answer nothing. Let me do the talking.

And Sophia?"

"Yes?"

"Don't look scared. They'll eat you alive."

We pulled up to the hotel.

Red carpet. Flashing lights. Reporters.

The Beaumont Charity Gala.

This was it.

The door opened.

Cold air hit my face.

Thunder got out first.

Then he turned and offered his hand.

I stared at it.

Rule #3: No PDA unless cameras.

The cameras were everywhere.

I took his hand.

His palm was warm. Calloused.

Not what I expected from a CEO.

The flashes started immediately.

"Thunder! Who's the girl?"

"Mrs. Beaumont?"

"Is this the new wife?"

We didn't stop.

He led me inside with his hand on my lower back.

Proprietary. Possessive.

The ballroom was massive.

Chandeliers. Marble floors.

Women in diamonds. Men in tuxedos.

And me. In red. Feeling like I was on fire.

"Who is she?"

"I've never seen her before."

"Thunder got married? Since when?"

The whispers followed us.

First stop: His mother.

Eleanor Beaumont.

Ice blonde hair. Pearl necklace.

Eyes that cut through me.

"Thunder," she said. Kissed his cheek.

Then turned to me. "And you must be...?"

"Sophia," I said. "Sophia Beaumont."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"How... nice. We didn't get an invitation to the wedding."

"Private ceremony," Thunder said smoothly.

His hand squeezed my back once. "Family only."

"Lovely," Mrs. Beaumont said. "We must have dinner soon.

To get to know you, dear."

I nodded. My mouth was dry.

For the next two hours, it was a blur.

Handshakes. Fake smiles.

"Congratulations." "So beautiful." "What do you do, dear?"

"She's with Beaumont Corp," Thunder answered every time.

"Design division."

Lie.

At one point, a woman in blue approached.

Young. Pretty. Too familiar with Thunder.

"Thunder," she said. Hug. "I didn't know you were married."

Her eyes flicked to me. "I'm Mia. We went to Wharton together."

"Congrats," she said to me. Didn't mean it.

"Take care of him. He works too much."

Thunder didn't correct her.

Didn't say we were a contract.

I smiled. "I'll try."

When she walked away, I felt it.

Jealousy? No. I can't.

It was just... awkward.

"Are you okay?" Thunder murmured. Only for me.

I nodded.

"Good. Speech in 10."

He went on stage.

Talked about charity. About family. About the future of Beaumont Corp.

Then he looked at me.

In front of 300 people.

"And I want to thank my wife, Sophia.

For reminding me what this is all for."

The room clapped.

All eyes on me.

I stood. Smiled. Waved.

Inside, I was screaming.

After the speech, dinner.

12 course meal.

We sat at the head table.

More questions. More stares.

More "how did you two meet?"

"At a company event," Thunder said. "Love at first sight."

I almost choked on my wine.

By 11PM, my feet hurt. My face hurt.

I wanted to go home. To the silent penthouse.

"Can we leave?" I whispered.

Thunder looked at me.

Really looked.

Saw the exhaustion.

"Yes," he said.

We said goodbye to no one.

Just walked out.

The car was quiet on the way back.

I took off my heels. Rubbed my feet.

"You did well," Thunder said finally.

"Better than I expected."

"Thank you," I whispered.

He didn't answer.

Just looked out the window.

Back at the penthouse, it was 12:30AM.

Silent again.

He walked me to my door.

"Get some rest," he said. "You earned it."

"Thunder?" I called before he left.

He turned.

"Why did you say that?

About love at first sight?"

He was quiet for a long time.

"Because people believe it," he said.

"And because... it sounded better than the truth."

Then he walked away.

I went into my room.

Took off the red dress.

Stared at myself in the mirror.

Sophia Crownwille.

Contract wife.

Liar.

I sat on the bed.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number: YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL TONIGHT. DON'T LET THEM GET TO YOU. -T

I read it three times.

Then I turned off the light.

Tomorrow, the articles would come out.

THUNDER BEAUMONT'S MYSTERY WIFE.

WHO IS SOPHIA BEAUMONT?

I pulled the blanket over my head.

One gala down.

364 more days to go.

And somehow...

I was starting to like the way his hand felt on my back.