Billionaire's Secret Wife

Chapter 2: The First Night

Sofia Carter sat on the edge of the luxurious bed, her suitcase still unopened at her feet. The rain had stopped outside, but its presence lingered in the misty skyline visible through the massive windows of her new room. The penthouse was silent, unnervingly so, as if it too held its breath alongside her.

She glanced around the space that was now “hers.” Everything was pristine—too pristine. White sheets without a wrinkle, untouched books on the shelf, a closet stocked with designer clothes she hadn't bought. It felt like a hotel. Temporary. Distant. Just like her marriage.

The events of the day replayed in her mind like a dream she couldn’t wake from. She was married. Legally bound to a man she didn’t love—a man who looked at her like a chess piece in a game only he understood.

And yet… this was what she agreed to.

A knock at the door jolted her. She jumped to her feet and crossed the room, pulling it open cautiously.

A woman stood there—elegant and efficient, with her dark hair tied in a perfect bun and a tablet in hand.

“Good evening, Mrs. Stone,” she said with a polite smile. “I’m Ava, the house manager. Mr. Stone instructed me to give you a tour of the penthouse and answer any questions you may have.”

Mrs. Stone. The title felt like a costume she hadn’t learned how to wear.

Sofia nodded, stepping out of the room. “Thank you, Ava.”

Ava guided her through the expansive apartment. Every detail oozed wealth—from the Italian marble floors to the abstract art that probably cost more than Sofia’s entire student loan debt. She noticed that every room, while grand, lacked warmth. There were no personal touches. No photographs. No signs of a life lived—only perfection and emptiness.

“This is the formal living room,” Ava said, gesturing to a space with a sweeping view of Manhattan. “You’ll be expected to accompany Mr. Stone to select public events. There is a stylist on call for you should you need attire for those occasions.”

“I see,” Sofia replied quietly.

“There’s also a weekly schedule Mr. Stone’s assistant will send to you. It’ll list when and where your presence is required. Otherwise, you’re free to stay in your suite or use the amenities here. Spa, gym, library, rooftop garden—anything you need.”

Sofia smiled faintly. “Sounds like a dream.”

Ava tilted her head slightly, catching the dry note in Sofia’s voice. But she didn’t comment. “Dinner will be served in the dining room at 7 p.m. Mr. Stone prefers punctuality.”

Sofia nodded. “I’ll be there.”

After the tour, Sofia returned to her suite, pulling out a simple dress from the closet—a soft navy blue sheath with capped sleeves. Modest, elegant, and nothing like the simple clothes she usually wore. She stared at herself in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly, almost as if it had been tailored. Had Dominic’s staff guessed her size? Or had they researched her? The thought made her uneasy.

At exactly seven, she made her way to the dining room.

The table was long and sleek, far too big for two people. Dominic sat at the head, already sipping a glass of wine and reading something on his tablet. He didn’t look up as she approached.

“You’re on time,” he said flatly.

“You said you preferred punctuality.”

He looked up then, eyes scanning her from head to toe. There was no emotion in his gaze, only assessment.

“The dress suits you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, unsure if it was a compliment or merely an observation.

They ate in silence. The chef—whom Sofia didn’t even see—had prepared roasted salmon, truffle risotto, and grilled vegetables. It was exquisite, but Sofia barely tasted any of it. Her nerves were tangled too tightly.

Finally, she spoke. “Have you done this before?”

Dominic looked up. “What?”

“This… arrangement. A marriage contract. Keeping it a secret.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “No. You’re the first.”

“Then why did you think of it so quickly? You barely knew me.”

He set down his fork, his expression unreadable. “Because I don’t have time to waste. My grandfather's will was clear—marry within thirty days or lose control of the company. A real relationship would have taken too long. You were... convenient. No connections, no scandals, nothing messy. And you didn’t seem like someone who’d try to manipulate the situation.”

Sofia looked down at her plate, forcing herself to stay calm. She had agreed to this, she reminded herself. There was no room for hurt feelings.

“And after a year?” she asked softly. “What happens then?”

“The marriage will be quietly dissolved. You’ll get the compensation stated in the contract, and you’ll go back to your life. Free and untouched.”

“Untouched,” she repeated, more to herself than to him. “And in the meantime, I’m to act like I don’t exist?”

“In public, yes. Privately, you’ll be taken care of. You’ll have everything you need.”

“But not you,” she murmured.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stood, gathering his tablet. “I have a call to take. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Sofia watched him leave, feeling the chill he always seemed to carry linger in the air even after he was gone.

She wandered to the balcony after dinner, needing fresh air. The city stretched out before her like a sea of lights, glowing and alive. But she had never felt more invisible.

For a brief moment, she let herself wonder—what if this hadn’t been a contract? What if he had met her under different circumstances? Would he have looked at her like she mattered?

Her heart answered before her mind could stop it.

She had always dreamed of a love like the stories her mother used to tell. The kind that made you feel seen, protected, chosen. But tonight, she wasn’t chosen. She was convenient.

And yet, as the wind brushed past her, carrying the scent of rain and asphalt, Sofia made a quiet vow to herself.

She might be Dominic Stone’s secret wife.

But she wouldn't be invisible.