The CEO's Accidental Bride

Chapter Three

Emma's Pov

"You're actually considering this?" Grace stared at me from across our tiny kitchen table, her coffee forgotten. "Emma, this is insane. This is how horror movies start."

I'd been pacing our apartment for three hours, the contract pages spread across every available surface. My phone sat in the middle of the table like a bomb, Marcus Reid's business card propped against it.

"It's half a million dollars," I said, not for the first time. "Grace, that's enough to pay off Mom's bills, open the gallery, and actually live without checking my bank account before buying groceries."

"It's also six months of lying to everyone you know. Six months of pretending to love some cold billionaire who threatened to sue you." Grace picked up one of the contract pages, scanning it. "Listen to this: 'Party B agrees to maintain physical proximity to Party A at all social functions, including but not limited to hand-holding, embracing, and kissing when deemed necessary for appearance maintenance.' Emma, he's literally contracting you to kiss him."

"In public. For show." I grabbed the page back. "It's not real. It's just acting."

"You've never been a good liar. Remember when you tried to tell Professor Martinez you'd read the entire textbook? You broke out in hives."

She wasn't wrong. I'd spent my whole life being aggressively honest, sometimes to my detriment. Mom used to say I had integrity tattooed on my soul, which was a beautiful sentiment that had never paid a single bill.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

I grabbed it, heart hammering. "Hello?"

"Miss Chen, this is Henry Steele. Alexander's grandfather."

I nearly dropped the phone. Grace's eyes went wide.

"Mr. Steele, I don't know how you got this number…."

"Marcus gave it to me. I wanted to speak with you before you make your decision." His voice was warm, grandfatherly in a way that immediately put me on edge. Rich people didn't call to be nice. "I understand my grandson made you a rather unusual proposal."

"He told you about that?"

"Alexander tells me everything, eventually. Usually after I've already figured it out myself." There was amusement in his tone. "I know the engagement isn't real, dear. I'm old, not stupid."

I sank into a chair, my carefully constructed arguments crumbling. "Then why would you go along with it?"

"Because my grandson needs to remember what living feels like. He's been existing in this corporate ice castle since his parents died, and Victoria's betrayal just made the walls thicker." Henry paused. "I don't actually care if he gets married. I care that he's slowly turning into a machine that only processes profit margins and quarterly reports."

"So you're using me too," I said quietly.

"I'm giving you an opportunity. Whether you use it or not is entirely up to you." His voice softened. "I looked into you, Emma. Your mother was Sarah Chen, correct? She volunteered at the Riverside Community Center art program for fifteen years."

My throat tightened. "You knew my mom?"

"I funded that program. She was remarkable—turned it from a basic after-school activity into something that actually changed lives. When she got sick, I tried to help, but she refused. Said she'd taken care of herself her whole life and wasn't about to stop." He chuckled. "Stubborn woman. I admired that."

Tears burned my eyes. Mom had never mentioned knowing anyone wealthy, certainly not Henry Steele. But that sounded exactly like her, too proud to accept charity, even when she desperately needed it.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're like her. And because Alexander needs someone who won't be impressed by his money or intimidated by his coldness. He needs someone real, even if it's temporary." Henry cleared his throat. "Take the deal, Emma. Play the part. But don't let him forget that you're a person, not a transaction. Make him uncomfortable. Make him feel something."

"And if I can't?"

"Then you'll walk away wealthy enough to honor your mother's legacy. Either way, you win."

He hung up before I could respond.

Grace was watching me carefully. "What did he say?"

"He knew my mom." I set the phone down, my hands shaking. "He funded her art program. He tried to help when she got sick."

"Emma….."

"She died because she couldn't afford treatment, Grace. She died because she was too proud to ask for help, and I was too poor to give it to her." The words came out harsh, angry. "This contract is helpful. It's exactly the kind of help she would have refused, but I'm not her. I'm tired of being noble and broke."

Grace reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "Okay. But you promise me something. The second this guy makes you feel unsafe or tries to add terms that weren't in the contract, you walk. I don't care how much money is involved."

"I promise."

She pulled out her laptop. "Then let's read this thing properly. If you're selling six months of your life, we're making sure you get every dollar you're owed."

We spent the next hour combing through the contract. It was surprisingly fair, separate bedrooms, a monthly stipend for clothes and expenses, clear termination clauses if either party violated terms. There was even a confidentiality agreement protecting both of us from future legal action.

The only clause that gave me pause was section seven: "Party B agrees to terminate all romantic relationships for the duration of this agreement and will not engage in romantic or s****l activities with any third party."

"He wants you single," Grace said. "That's controlling."

"It makes sense though. Can't exactly maintain a fake engagement if I'm sleeping with someone else." I highlighted the section. "I'll ask Marcus about it tomorrow."

My phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from an unknown number.

“This is Sophia Steele. Alexander's sister. We need to talk. Tomorrow, 10am, Café Luminosa on Park. Come alone.”

I showed Grace, who immediately started Googling. "Sophia Steele. Twenty-eight. Marketing VP at Steele Industries. Columbia MBA. Hobbies include charity work and apparently ambushing her brother's fake fiancées."

"Maybe she wants to warn me off."

"Or size up the competition. Rich families are territorial." Grace closed her laptop. "You should go. Knowledge is power, and right now you know nothing about these people."

She was right. I'd been so focused on the money and the contract that I hadn't thought about what it meant to enter Alexander Steele's world. His family, his friends, his ex-girlfriend who'd apparently destroyed him.

I sent Marcus a text: *I have questions about the contract. Can we meet before my deadline?*

His response came immediately: *My office, 9am tomorrow. Bring a list.*

I started writing. Separate bedrooms meant what exactly? How public would this engagement be? What happened if his grandfather saw through the act? What were the consequences if I failed to convince people we were real?

By midnight, I had two pages of questions and a headache that felt like someone was using my skull as a drum.

Grace had fallen asleep on the couch, her laptop still open to an article about Alexander Steele's business empire. I covered her with a blanket and stared at the contract one more time.

Six months of my life for financial freedom.

Six months of pretending to love a man who'd looked at me like I was a problem to be solved.

Six months of lying to everyone I knew.

My phone buzzed with one final text from Marcus: “For what it's worth, Alexander's not as cold as he pretends. He's just been hurt badly and doesn't know how else to protect himself.”

I typed back: “That doesn't give him the right to buy people.”

“No. But it explains why he thinks it's the only option.”

I fell asleep on the couch next to Grace, the contract clutched in my hand, and dreamed of my mother's disappointed face.

When I woke up at seven, my decision was made.

I was going to take the deal.

But I was going to do it on my terms.

I texted Marcus: “9am meeting confirmed. And tell your boss I want one addition to the contract. Non-negotiable.”

His response: “He doesn't negotiate.”

“Then he can find another fiancée. 9am. Don't be late.”

I turned off my phone and went to shower, ignoring the fear pooling in my stomach.

Alexander Steele thought he could control everything with money and contracts.

He was about to learn that some things couldn't be bought.

Starting with me.