The Billionaire Contact Wife

`Chapter 8: Mrs. Carter

`

Two weeks passed fast.

Too fast.

The wedding was small. Just like Ethan said.

No guests. No church. No flowers.

Just a judge, his lawyer, my hand shaking, and him.

He wore a black suit. As always.

I wore the white dress his assistant bought for me. ₱30,000.

"Do you, Ethan Carter, take Luna Reyes to be your wife?"

"I do." His voice was steady. Cold.

"Do you, Luna Reyes, take Ethan Carter to be your husband?"

My throat was dry.

"I do."

Just like that.

I was now Mrs. Carter.

After, we went to the hospital.

His grandmother was in a private room. Oxygen. Machines. But she was smiling.

"Grandma," Ethan said, holding my hand. "This is Luna. My wife."

The old lady looked at me. Then at our joined hands.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Beautiful," she whispered. "You make a beautiful couple."

I forced a smile. "Thank you po."

She squeezed my hand. "Take care of my grandson, anak. He’s cold on the outside. But he has a good heart."

I nodded.

We stayed for 30 minutes. Then we left.

In the car, Ethan let go of my hand immediately.

"It’s done," he said. "You did good."

"Thank you sir."

"Don’t call me sir at home," he said quietly. "Call me Ethan."

Ethan.

The first night in the penthouse as his wife was weird.

We had separate rooms. Separate beds.

But we were married. On paper.

The next morning, he left for work early.

A note was on the kitchen counter.

`Driver will take you to work. -E`

At the office, nothing changed.

I was still "Miss Reyes" to everyone.

He was still cold. Professional.

But at night, we ate dinner together.

In silence.

Day by day, people started noticing.

The ring on my finger.

The way his driver picked me up.

The way he looked at me sometimes when he thought I wasn’t looking.

Sofia noticed too.

She came to the office on Friday.

Red dress. Red lips.

"Ethan, we need to talk," she said, walking straight into his office.

I was bringing coffee. I froze outside the door.

"I heard you got married," Sofia said. Her voice was sharp. "To your assistant?"

"Yes."

"Are you crazy? Do you know what people are saying? That you married a poor girl for publicity?"

"My personal life is none of your business, Sofia."

"She’s using you, Ethan. Girls like her—"

"Don’t." His voice was low. Dangerous. "Don’t talk about my wife like that."

My wife.

My heart stopped.

Sofia left 5 minutes later. Slapping the door.

I walked in with the coffee. My hands were shaking.

He looked at me.

"You heard?"

I nodded. "Yes sir. I mean... Ethan."

He sighed and rubbed his face.

"I’m sorry you had to hear that."

"It’s okay," I whispered. "It’s part of the contract."

He looked at me for a long time.

"No, Luna. It’s not."

Then he went back to work.

That night, he came home late.

I was in the kitchen, making tea.

"Long day?" I asked.

"Yeah." He loosened his tie. "Can I..."

He stopped.

"Can you what?"

"Can I have tea too?"

I poured him a cup. Black. No sugar.

We sat at the kitchen island. Not talking. Just drinking.

Then he spoke.

"Thank you. For today. For playing the part."

"You’re welcome, Ethan."

He looked at me. Really looked.

"Six months, Luna. We can do this."

Six months.

I nodded.

But as I went to my room that night, I realized something.

Six months was a long time.

Long enough to fall in love.

Long enough to get hurt.

And I was already halfway there.