The Billionaire Contact Wife

The Billionaire Contract Wife Chapter 1: Sign This ₱500,000. That’s what’s written in red ink on the bill the hospital sends every month. That’s also the reason why I have 3 jobs right now. Morning: Janitor in a call center. Opening doors, cleaning the toilets of people richer than me. Afternoon: Cashier in a mini-mart. Smiling even when customers humiliate me. Night: Selling fishballs and kwek-kwek on the street corner. Head down while shouting "Taho! Fishball!" For what? For my dad. He’s in a coma because of debt. And now we’re also drowning in debt. "Anak, tomorrow is the last day of the extension," Mama said, her hands trembling. She was sitting on our cement floor. "If we can’t pay, they’ll take the house. Where will we live?" I just nodded. But inside, I had no hope left. I had nothing left to sell. No one left to borrow from. Until that night. It was raining. No one was on the street. I was so tired from walking, carrying my cart. Soaked. Freezing. Then I heard a loud screech. BOOM. A car. A BMW. It crashed into a post. I ran to it. Blood. So much blood. The driver was unconscious. Handsome. Wearing a barong. A Rolex. Obviously rich. He even smelled like expensive cologne despite the blood. "Help!" I screamed. "Someone here!" No one answered. We waited 30 minutes for the ambulance. I was the one applying pressure to his wound. I was the one talking to him even though he was asleep. "Fight. Don’t give up. You’re rich right? You have a lot of money to spend. You have a lot left to buy. Not here." He smiled weakly. Before he lost consciousness, I heard it. "...thank you..." When I woke up the next morning, a man in a black suit was in front of our house. A Mercedes. "Miss Luna Reyes?" cold voice. "Yes?" I bowed. I was embarrassed by my slippers and torn clothes. "I’m Marco. Mr. Ethan Carter’s assistant. The man you helped last night." My heart pounded. "Is he okay?" "He survived. Because of you." He handed me a thick envelope. "Mr. Carter wants to see you. Now." When I arrived at the hospital, he was sitting in the VIP room. In a wheelchair. Head bandaged. But his eyes... God. Blue. Cold. Like they could see through my soul. "Ethan Carter," he introduced himself. CEO of Carter Group. Billionaire. The one on the news. The one who bought an island. I stood straight. My knees were shaking. "Sir, are you okay?" He looked at me from head to toe. My clothes were old. My hands were calloused. I still smelled like fish. Obviously poor. Obviously low. "You saved my life," he said. Voice with no emotion. "I don’t like owing people." He took out a folder. Pushed it on the table. The sound was deafening. "Sign this." I took it. My hands were shaking. *CONTRACT AGREEMENT* *Party A: Ethan Carter* *Party B: Luna Reyes* *Terms: 6 Months. Personal Assistant. ₱50,000/month. Room and board included. No questions. No emotions. No falling in love.* I swallowed. "W-what does this mean sir?" "I need an assistant for 6 months. You need money. Simple transaction," he said like he was just buying coffee. "₱50,000 every month. After 6 months, you’re free. Plus I’ll pay your father’s hospital debt." My eyes widened. "A-all of it? The ₱500,000?" "Yes. In full." My world collapsed. This was it. The answer to my prayers. The miracle. But why did it feel so heavy in my chest? Why did something feel wrong? "Why me sir? There are more qualified people— prettier, smarter—" "Because you’re not greedy," he cut me off. He stood up with a cane. Walked to me. He smelled so good. Like money and power and danger. "You helped me without knowing who I am. That’s rare. People like you... are useful." Useful. That’s all I was to him. "So? Deal or no deal, Miss Reyes?" I thought of Mama. Our house. My dad in the ICU. I closed my eyes. Signed. Hard. "Deal." He smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes. "Good. Be at my penthouse by 8AM tomorrow. And Luna..." "Yes?" My voice was weak. "Remember the last rule." He came closer. His breath hit my ear. "No falling in love." He turned away. I held onto the paper. Still shaking. ₱50,000 a month. Plus he’ll pay our debt. Is this it? The next morning, I was there at 7:30AM. 50th floor. All glass. So cold. It smelled like money. Like him. When the door opened, he was already sitting on the couch. In a black suit. No smile. No life in his eyes. "You’re 30 minutes early," he said coldly. "I just wanted to be responsible sir," I answered, head down. He stood. Walked to me. Lifted my chin with his finger. "Look at me." I looked at him. "This is a contract. Not a fairy tale. Don’t get any ideas, Miss Reyes. People like you and me... we don’t mix." He let go. "Now. Make me coffee. Black. No sugar. Like my life." --- [End of Chapter 1]