The CEO's Contract Bride

The hospital bill in my hand trembled. RM 87,430.00 Due in 48 hours. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. My fingers were numb from cold, or maybe from fear. I couldn't tell anymore. My sister Aira was sleeping three floors above me in Room 304. Tubes went into her arms. Machines beeped in a rhythm that had become the soundtrack of my life for the past six months. Leukemia. Stage 3. And I had RM 240.19 in my bank account. "Miss Maya?" The nurse's voice was soft. Too soft. That was never a good sign. "If the payment isn't made by Friday, we'll have to discuss... other options." Other options. That was hospital code for discharge her and let her die at home. I nodded because my throat was too tight to speak. I folded the bill and shoved it into the pocket of my grey cleaner uniform. The fabric was rough and smelled faintly of bleach. I'd worn it for 14 hours straight. My back hurt. My feet hurt. But none of that mattered. I just needed 87 thousand ringgit. By Friday. I walked out of the hospital into the rain. Kuala Lumpur at 2 AM was a different kind of lonely. Neon lights reflected off the wet pavement. Taxis splashed past me. I didn't have money for a taxi anyway. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Unknown number. I almost didn't answer. But desperate people answer everything. "Hello?" My voice came out hoarse. "Miss Maya Chen?" The voice was male. Deep. Cold. Like he was used to people obeying him without question. "This is Damian Voss." I frowned. "Who?" "The CEO of Voss Holdings." A pause. "We need to talk. About a marriage." I stopped walking. Rain dripped down my face. "...Is this a prank?" "I don't do pranks, Miss Chen. I do business. Be at Voss Tower, 40th floor, in one hour. Come alone. If you're not there, I'll assume you're not interested in saving your sister." The line went dead. My heart slammed against my ribs. How did he know about Aira? How did he know my name? I should've hung up. I should've blocked the number. But 87 thousand ringgit doesn't just appear. And CEOs don't call cleaners at 2 AM for fun. So I went. Voss Tower was a monster of glass and steel. 60 floors. The kind of building that made you feel small just by looking at it. The security guard barely looked at me. "Miss Chen? Mr. Voss is expecting you. 40th floor." The elevator was all mirrors and gold. I looked terrible in the reflection. Wet hair. Tired eyes. Cleaner uniform with a coffee stain on the sleeve. I looked like exactly what I was. The doors opened to the 40th floor and my breath caught. It wasn't an office. It was a palace. Floor to ceiling windows showed the entire city below us, glittering like stars. Black marble floors. White furniture that probably cost more than my yearly salary. And in the middle of it all, standing with his back to me, was him. Damian Voss. He turned slowly. I'd seen pictures of him in business magazines before. The youngest CEO in Malaysia. 28 years old. Net worth 4.2 billion. Known as "The Ice King" because he'd destroyed three rival companies in one year. But pictures didn't do him justice. He was tall. At least 6'2. Black suit, tailored so perfectly it looked painted on. Black hair, slightly messy like he'd been running his hands through it. And his eyes... God, his eyes. Grey. Cold. Empty. Like looking into a winter storm. "Miss Chen." His voice matched his eyes. "You came." "I..." I swallowed. "You said it was about my sister." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. It wasn't a nice smile. "Direct. I like that." He walked to his desk. It was huge. Empty except for a single folder and a pen. An expensive pen. The kind that probably cost more than my monthly rent. He opened the folder and slid a paper across the desk to me. "A contract," he said. "100 days. You marry me. You act as my wife. In public. In private. Everywhere." I stared at him. "You want to marry me? A cleaner?" "I want to marry someone, Miss Chen. You're convenient." "Convenient?" "My board thinks I need to settle down. That I'm 'too cold' to lead. A wife would fix that image. And you..." His eyes swept over me, cold and assessing. "You need money. I checked. Your sister's hospital bills. Your father's debt. You're drowning." My face burned. "You had me investigated?" "I have everyone investigated." He leaned forward, hands flat on the desk. "Here's my offer. 2 million dollars. Paid immediately. In exchange, you sign this contract and become Mrs. Voss for 100 days. After that, we divorce. Clean break. No strings." 2 million. The number echoed in my head. It would pay Aira's bills. It would pay my father's loan sharks. It would give us a fresh start. It was also insane. "What's the catch?" I whispered. His smile this time was sharper. "Several. No dating other people. No talking to the press. You live in my penthouse. You attend events with me. You play the part of the devoted wife perfectly." "And if I don't?" "Then I walk away. And your sister's bill remains unpaid." The room was so quiet I could hear the rain hitting the windows. This was crazy. This was illegal. This was— Aira's face flashed in my mind. Pale. Sick. Smiling at me last week and saying, "Kak, don't worry about me, okay?" I hated him. I hated that he had this power over me. I hated that I was even considering it. But I hated the idea of losing Aira more. "How do I know you'll pay?" I asked. Damian picked up the pen and clicked it once. The sound was loud in the silence. "Because I'm Damian Voss, Miss Chen. I don't make offers I can't keep." He pushed the pen toward me. "Sign. Or don't. But decide in the next five minutes. I have a meeting at 3." My hand shook as I reached for the pen. It was heavy. Cold. The first page of the contract was simple. Names. Dates. Amount. The second page had rules. 1. No physical intimacy unless agreed upon by both parties. 2. No disclosure of the nature of the marriage to any third party. 3. No falling in love. This is a business arrangement only. I almost laughed at that last one. Like anyone could fall in love with an ice statue. My eyes moved to the signature line. Maya Chen. Below it, in bold, black ink: Damian Voss. I thought of Aira. Of the beeping machines. Of the nurse saying "other options." I signed. The moment the pen left the paper, Damian took it back. He signed his name with quick, sharp strokes. Then he closed the folder. "Congratulations, Mrs. Voss." The word hit me like a slap. Mrs. Voss. "Payment will be in your account by morning," he said, already turning back to his window. "A car will pick you up at 7 AM to move your things to my penthouse. Don't be late." That was it? No congratulations. No handshake. Just... done. I stood there, clutching the copy of the contract he gave me. My signature looked wrong on it. Too small. Too scared. "Can I... can I see my sister first?" Damian didn't turn around. "You have 24 hours before the media announcement. Use it wisely." I walked out of his office on legs that didn't feel like mine. The elevator ride down took forever. When I stepped outside, the rain had stopped. The city was quiet. My phone buzzed. Bank notification: RM 2,000,000.00 credited to your account. I stared at it for a long time. The numbers didn't look real. I'd just sold myself for money. And the worst part was, I'd do it again. As I walked toward the bus stop, I didn't see the black car that had been parked across the street. I didn't see the man inside it, watching me with grey eyes that weren't as cold as they pretended to be. Damian Voss folded my contract and put it in his briefcase. 100 days. What he didn't tell her was that the contract had a clause he'd added himself, in tiny print at the bottom of page 7. Clause 12: This agreement may be extended indefinitely at the discretion of Party A. And Party A was him. The game had just begun.