The billionaire contract ex-wife

Amera POV “I’ll be right back, Mom,” I smiled as I stepped out of the hospital room. I sat at the edge of the waiting area chair. The air felt heavy, too sterile. Through the window, the weather looked nice,such a contrast to how I felt inside. The door creaked open. Dr. Tina stepped in, her face unreadable. My stomach dropped. I’d spent enough time in hospitals to recognize that expression. “How bad is it, Doctor?” “Amera,” she started softly, lowering herself into the chair beside me. “Her cancer has progressed faster than we anticipated.” My heart shattered. A tear slipped down my cheek. “Is there a chance she could live?” The words barely made it out of my mouth, my voice cracking. “Yes, but we need to operate as soon as possible.” She paused, and her silence did more damage than anything she could say. “Without surgery, I don’t think she’ll survive.” I swallowed hard, trying to catch my breath. “How much does it cost?” Her expression tightened before she finally answered. “Hundreds of thousands.” “Hundreds of thousands?” The number hit me like a physical blow. My whole family hadn’t seen that kind of money in our entire lives. I felt the ground shifting beneath me. “And if I can’t afford it?” “Then we focus on palliative care,” she said gently. “But without treatment, her time is limited.” “Limited.” I stood there, frozen, barely able to process the word. Somehow I managed to walk myself down the hospital corridor. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I’m exhausted. I’m broken. Where would I find that kind of money? What am I supposed to do? Who would lend me that much? Every dollar I barely earned already went to hospital bills and medications. As I turned back toward my mom’s room, I heard a sound—“Urghhh”—and saw an elderly man stumbling in the corridor. I rushed to catch him before he fell. “Oh my God, are you okay?” I said, helping him steady himself. I guided him to a chair nearby. “Thank you so much, young lady,” he said. “Do you need help? Should I get a doctor?” “No worries. I just missed my step.” “Alright. Take care.” I nodded and walked back to my mom’s room. She sat up in her bed. “What did the doctor say?” “She said your health is improving. You just need to take your medication regularly.” I forced a smile. “Hmm. Amera, I understand everything.” I knew she did. She wasn’t a child. But I had to pretend everything was okay. I went to the hospital every night after work. I couldn’t risk a night without seeing her—I was too afraid of losing her. Each night, I kept running into that same elderly man. One night, sleep wouldn’t come. I stepped outside for fresh air, and the old man came to stand beside me. I took his arm gently and helped him to a bench. “What’s your name, young lady?” he asked. “I’m Amera, sir.” “I see you almost every day entering room 40. I asked around and learned about your mother’s condition. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” “Why doesn’t she get the surgery?” I exhaled deeply. “I’m drowning in debt. I can’t afford it. I barely earn enough to survive. I’ve sold almost everything I own and still couldn’t cover the surgery fee.” We talked for a while. He was warm, easy to talk to, surprisingly jovial. “I should get back in,” I finally said, standing to leave. “Would you let me help you?” he said. I froze. Did I hear him right? Help me? No one helps just like that. I turned back and quickly sat down again. “I help you, and you help me. For just one year, I want you to marry my grandson. In exchange, consider your mother’s bills paid.” His tone was suddenly serious. “And who exactly are you, sir?” He began laughing—a rich, genuine sound. “I’m Marcus Blackwood. I want you to marry my grandson. I need you to create a barrier between him and that gold-digging woman he’s involved with. I just need you to be there for one year. Nothing more than that.” I didn’t even take time to think it through. “Yes, sir. I accept your offer.” The Blackwood family? Everyone knew them. They were impossibly wealthy. “Thank you, my daughter-in-law,” he said with a slight smile. “I’ll speak to the doctor and have them schedule your mother’s surgery as soon as possible. I’ll send my driver to pick you up tomorrow at five. Be ready.” He patted my shoulder gently. “Okay, sir.” Surprisingly, less than two hours after the old man left, the doctor called me to her office. She said Mr. Blackwood had made all the payments and handed me a consent form to sign. I signed it immediately, joy flooding through me. I was doing the right thing to save my mom’s life. I didn’t care what happened to me as long as my mom was alive. The next morning, I went to my friend Mira’s apartment at seven. She was just waking up. “Amera, you really need to rest,” she said, guiding me to sit down. “I might have done something crazy. Or perfect. I’m not sure which.” “I don’t follow. Explain.” I told her everything—every detail. She listened carefully, her expression growing serious. “Look, I think that’s a good decision, love. Marrying into the Blackwood family isn’t the worst thing. You just need to be careful, okay? And don’t worry—I’ll look after your mom.” She hugged me tight. “Thank you, Mira. You’re the best.” “Now go get some rest before the driver comes.” I stood looking at myself in the mirror. The black gown fit perfectly, accentuating my figure. The heels completed the look. I secured my hair with a red band. I looked good—better than I’d looked in months. The driver called to say he was downstairs. Mira hugged and kissed me as I stepped out of the apartment, my heart pounding with equal parts fear and hope.