Unmasking His Contract Wife

The Perfect Candidate

Twenty-four hours earlier.

The silence in the boardroom was deafening. Cassian Drax sat at the head of the mahogany table. He didn't fidget. He didn't blink. He just stared at the empty chair at the other end.

His grandfather, Silas Drax, paced back and forth in front of the window. The old man slammed his cane against the floor.

"They are going to pull out, Cassian. The merger is dead."

Cassian didn't raise his voice. "The numbers are solid. We are offering them twenty percent above market value. They would be idiots to walk away."

"It isn't about the numbers!" Silas shouted. He turned to face his grandson. "It is about you."

Cassian narrowed his eyes. "I doubled this company's revenue in three years."

"And you terrified everyone while doing it," Silas snapped. "The board of the Archer Group is old-fashioned. They value family. They value stability. They look at you and they see a machine. A ruthless corporate raider with no heart, no wife, and no legacy."

Silas leaned over the table. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Old man Archer told me this morning that he won't hand his life's work over to a 'cold-blooded wolf.' He wants to sell to a family man."

Cassian clenched his jaw. It was the only sign of his anger. "So what do you suggest? I send him a fruit basket?"

"I suggest you get a life, Cassian," Silas said. "Or at least, fake one. You have until the shareholder meeting next month to change your image. If the Archer deal falls through because you are too unlikeable, the board will vote you out."

The threat hung in the air.

Cassian stood up. He buttoned his suit jacket. "Consider it handled."

Twelve hours earlier.

Cassian stood in his penthouse office. It was dark. The only light came from the city skyline below.

"These are the best options?" he asked.

His head of security, Marcus, stood by the desk. He looked nervous. "Yes, sir. These are the top socialites in the city. All from good families. All looking to marry."

Cassian flipped through the files on his desk.

Elizabeth Sterling. Heiress. Too loud. She would talk to the press.

Jessica Vane. Model. Too vain. She would want his money for clothes.

Sarah Miller. Senator’s daughter. Too powerful. Her father would try to control the company.

Cassian tossed the files into the trash. "No. They are all useless. They are safe, pampered women. They don't need me. They just want the title of Mrs. Drax."

"What are you looking for, sir?" Marcus asked.

"I need someone desperate," Cassian said. He walked to the window. "I need someone with everything to lose. Someone I can control completely. If I buy a wife, I want to make sure she stays bought."

Marcus hesitated. He pulled one last folder from his briefcase. It was thinner than the others.

"There was... one more. It came up during a background check on the new property we acquired. The Velvet Room."

Cassian took the folder. He opened it.

Name: Valorie Cross.

Occupation: Dancer.

Financial Status: Critical.

He scanned the document. His eyes stopped on the section highlighted in red.

Custody battle is pending. Debt: $150,000. Sister deceased.

He looked at the photo. It wasn't a posed headshot like the others. It was a surveillance photo of a woman walking out of a grocery store. She looked exhausted. She was carrying a bag of cheap diapers in one hand and holding a little girl’s hand with the other. But her eyes...

Her eyes were fierce. She looked like a cornered animal ready to bite.

"She has two dependents," Cassian murmured. "And no money to protect them."

"She’s a stripper, sir," Marcus warned. "The PR nightmare..."

"No," Cassian corrected him. A cold smile touched his lips. "She is a blank canvas. She has no powerful family to defend her. No money to fight me. She needs a savior, and I need a wife who will follow orders."

He closed the folder.

"Prepare the contract, Marcus. I’m going to the club tonight."

Present Day.

Valorie stared at the business card on her kitchen table.

Cassian Drax. CEO, Drax Enterprises.

The card was heavy. It was embossed with gold lettering. It looked like it belonged in a museum, not on her chipped laminate table.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Leo and Mia were still asleep in the bedroom they shared with her. Valorie wrapped her hands around a mug of hot water. She couldn't afford coffee this week.

"Mama?"

Valorie turned. Mia stood in the doorway. She was clutching a ragged stuffed bunny. "I'm hungry."

Valorie’s heart broke. She forced a smile and opened the fridge. It was almost empty. Half a carton of milk and a loaf of bread that was starting to go stale.

"We’re having a special toast today, baby," Valorie said. Her voice wavered.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

Valorie froze. It wasn't 8:00 AM yet. It couldn't be him.

She walked to the door and looked through the peephole. It wasn't Cassian. It was a woman in a gray suit. Valorie recognized her immediately.

Mrs. Gable. Child Protective Services.

Valorie opened the door just a crack. "Mrs. Gable. I thought... I thought I had until Friday."

The social worker didn't look sympathetic. She looked at her clipboard. "We received a tip, Ms. Cross. A report that you are bringing 'unsavory characters' around the children. And that your utilities are scheduled to be shut off today."

Valorie griped the door handle. "That’s a lie. Who reported me?"

"That’s confidential," Mrs. Gable said. She pushed her glasses up her nose. "I’m here to do a welfare check. If the electricity is off, I have to take the children into emergency custody immediately."

Valorie felt like the floor was opening up beneath her. The electricity bill. She had forgotten to pay the partial balance yesterday because of the shift at the club.

"It’s not off," Valorie lied. "I paid it."

"May I come in and check the lights?"

Valorie blocked the way. "I... I need to get dressed first. Please. Give me one hour."

Mrs. Gable checked her watch. "One hour, Ms. Cross. If the lights aren't on when I come back, I call the police to escort the children out."

The woman turned and walked down the hallway.

Valorie slammed the door. She leaned her back against it and slid down to the floor. She couldn't breathe. She had forty dollars in her bank account. The electric bill was two hundred.

She looked at the table.

The black and gold business card was gleaming in the morning light.

I am the only reason you aren't going to lose them.

He knew.

Cassian Drax knew this was going to happen. He might have even caused it.

Valorie grabbed the card. She didn't feel fear anymore. She felt rage. And she felt desperation.

"You want a meeting?" she whispered to the empty room. "Fine. Let’s make a deal with the devil."