The Billionaire's Contract Wife

Chapter 2

Michael’s POV

"Boss, you have a call from your mum," Jack, my PA, whispered, interrupting the meeting. I nodded, even though I had no intention of taking it. I already knew how that call would go—nagging, expectations. But still, she was my mother. After the meeting, Jack reminded me again. Reluctantly, I dialed her number. "Mike! I've been trying to reach you." "Mum, I was in a meeting." "Well, whatever. Have you found one yet?" Here we go again. For the past month, she had been on a mission—get married or be married off. As if a wife would just magically appear like a birthday cake. "Mum, I’ve been busy with work. I haven’t had time to find one." "Oh, thank goodness! You remember my friend Karen? Her daughter, Sarah, just came back from Germany. She’s single, cultured, and very pretty. Now, I haven’t spoken to her yet out of respect for you, but the clock is ticking." "I said I’ll find someone, Mum. Just give me a little more time." "Mike, if the week goes by and I don’t see you at the villa with a girl, then Sarah it is." She meant it. I knew she did. I honestly don't understand her obsession with me getting married. "I’ll take care of it." After the call ended, I sighed and checked my watch. Lunch break. Jack walked in just in time. I stood and headed out. Most days, Jack picked up my coffee for me, but today, I needed some air. I crossed the street to the usual café.

Inside, I glanced at the menu then looked up—she was behind the counter. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy. It was clear she had been crying. I brushed it off. "One cappuccino with a rolled snack, please." "Yes, sir." I waited at the counter. I caught myself staring. She was beautiful—soft features, a quiet kind of elegance. But I wasn’t here for love. Not again. Not after what McKenzie did. "Your order," she said, handing me the coffee. "Thanks." I sat at the stool near the end of the counter. Not eavesdropping—at least that’s what I told myself—but I heard everything. "Alicia, I couldn’t help but notice your face," the other attendant said in a worried whisper. "What in the world happened? Is it your dad? Did something happen on your way here? Or an old boyfriend?" Alicia. That was her name. It suited her. "Viv, it’s nothing." "Alicia, you can tell me anything. I've stayed around you long enough to know when something is bothering you." Then came the tears.

"It’s actually my dad. There’s a new treatment—something experimental, something they’re sure will help. Vivian, it costs two million dollars. Two million! Where am I supposed to get that from? I called my family. I got rejected. Voicemails. Excuses. They all abandoned us. I don’t know what to do anymore. This job won’t even get me close, and time’s running out." That hit me. But why should I care? Still, the emotion in her voice lingered with me long after I finished my snack and returned to my office.

Back at BruneTech, Jack updated me on the schedule. "Meeting with HedgeTech about the sponsorship deal at 12. Appointment with Lady Tasha at 2. Meeting with the computer division at 4." Right. Lady Tasha. I’d forgotten. "Alright, let's get to it." The meeting wrapped by 1:30, and Jack drove me to Lady Tasha’s estate. She insisted I enter alone. "Mike," she greeted, arms open. "Lady Tasha, it’s been a while," I said, hugging her and kissing both cheeks as it was customary. "You’ve forgotten your old lady. No messages, no visits." "Work’s been intense lately." "Understandable. Now, cutting to the chase—are you seeing anyone?" I knew it. Mum. "No, ma’am." "Good, good. You remember my daughter Naomi? You two were close when you were little, though it’s been years. She’s back from Europe now. Lovely, smart, and she’s interested in settling down. What do you say?"

Hard pass. "Thank you for the offer, ma’am. But I’m seeing someone. It’s still new, still private." "Oh? A secret relationship?" "Yes. I’ll introduce her to you both when the time is right." "I respect that. What a shame. But I wish you all the luck in this one." The ride back to the office was quiet. Until one thought popped into my head—I needed a girlfriend by the weekend. Not love. Just a woman. Someone who understood the deal. A contract marriage. My mind flicked to the girl from the coffee shop. She was desperate. She needed the money. She might consider it. And I was willing to pay. "Jack," I called, "draft a marriage contract. Six months duration. Twenty million dollars. No strings attached. Ten upfront, ten at the end. No children. Keep it clean. I want it by the end of the day." "Yes, boss."

At exactly 6 PM, Jack placed the document on my desk. I left the office and went back to the café. There she was—still behind the counter, eyes even more tired than before. "Hello. Sorry to disturb you, but could I speak with you for a moment? Over there," I gestured to a quiet corner. She looked unsure. "Sir, I can’t just take a break—" Vivian whispered something in her ear. "Okay, I’ll be with you shortly." We sat by the window. Her eyes searched mine, cautious. "Thank you for joining me. First, I want to apologize for overhearing your conversation earlier. But I’d like to help. Not for free." Her brow lifted slightly. "You’re forgiven. And how exactly can you help me?" "I’m Michael Brune. I run BruneTech across the street. I’m in need of a wife. But only on paper. A contract marriage—six months, no emotional ties, no children. In return, you’ll receive twenty million dollars. Ten million when you sign, the rest when it ends." Her mouth parted in shock. "Twenty million? For six months?" "Yes." I handed her the contract. "Take this. Read it. Sleep on it. I’ll return tomorrow to hear your decision. Whatever it is, I’ll respect it." "Okay… sure." I stood. "Thank you for your time." She nodded, still dazed.

On the drive home, I could not help but wonder what her reply would be. Most people would have leapt at the offer, but there was something in Alicia’s eyes—wary, like she’d seen too many deals fall through, too many promises broken. It made me wonder. There was a brief moment, right before she said “Okay, sure,” when her fingers tightened around the document, knuckles turning white. Not from surprise. From hesitation. Like she had once trusted the wrong hand before and paid dearly for it. Honestly why do I care? Okay maybe because I'm about to get into something with her.

Jack had pulled a preliminary background check on her after I first heard her name. Nothing scandalous. She kept her records clean. Graduated top of her class. Worked two jobs to support her father. Quiet. Private. No big social presence. But there was a detail Jack didn’t think much of—Alicia had once been the heir to a family trust. A trust that vanished just a month ago when her uncle took over the family estate under the guise of “temporary control” during her father’s collapse. That kind of betrayal doesn’t just fade. It hardens you. I know from experience. Now it made sense. Why she never asked her “family” for help until now. Why she worked herself raw for a man barely hanging on. And maybe… why she might just take my offer.