The Billionaire’s Temporary Wife

Then came a polished, youthful voice from the workroom just beyond the lounge, firm and clear. “Next. Auditorium. Stick to the sealed door.” Sofia Anderson’s eyes darted to the end of the room. A sharply dressed woman in her mid-twenties rose from a luxuriously soft cream sofa, a sleek black handbag perched on her elbow and a document case in her hand. She walked confidently toward the auditorium, her wedge heels clicking across the alabaster floor. Sofia tried to peek through the open door, but all she caught was a glimpse of a bench before the door clicked shut. She turned her head back, mentally counting seven women still ahead of her. A shaky breath left her lips as she tried to relax, sitting upright and steadying her pounding heart. This was her first real job application since completing her Business Management degree at Berkeley Academy. With little experience, mostly just part-time shifts as a cashier at Burger King to pay off student loans, she hadn’t expected anything serious. But then she saw the ad: Personal Assistant to the CEO at Lexcorp. No experience required. An unbelievable salary. And the most curious part? Applicants had to be women in their mid-20s. Sofia hesitated at first, wondering if it was a scam. But the company name was real. Lexcorp was a global force in the business world. So she applied. And now here she was, seated nervously, dressed in her best affordable outfit, about to walk into an unknown opportunity. Sofia’s fingers tapped her handbag nervously. She tried not to stare at the other women in the room, but it was impossible not to notice how flawless they looked; slim bodies, perfect hair, heels higher than anything she owned. She glanced down at her own shoes, modest nude pumps, barely worn and smoothed out the soft cotton dress she had borrowed from her roommate. “Confidence,” she whispered to herself. “Fake it till you make it.” She could do this. She had to. A bell chimed softly, and the woman who had entered earlier walked out of the auditorium. Her expression was unreadable, eyes straight ahead, lips tight. She didn’t even glance at the rest of them as she walked past. The voice came again. “Next.” The girl beside Sofia stood up, adjusted her cleavage in the mirror, and strutted toward the door like she owned the place. Sofia exhaled. She was now just one person away from whatever this was. Her heart pounded faster. She thought about her mother and how she had worked two cleaning jobs just to send Sofia to school. This job could change their lives. It could help her pay off debts, maybe even move them out of that tiny apartment with the leaking ceiling. Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her purse. She quickly fished it out and saw a text from her roommate: You’ve got this, Sofi A smile tugged at her lips. She needed that. The door opened again. Another girl walked out, visibly shaken. Her eyes were glassy, and her lips trembled. She looked like she had just walked out of an interrogation room, not a job interview. The receptionist’s voice came once more. “Next.” Sofia stood up slowly, palms sweaty, legs a little unsteady beneath her. She clutched her resume tightly in one hand and her bag in the other. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the sealed door. That was it. As she stepped inside, the cool air-conditioned room hit her skin. It was nothing like she expected. No big table. No line of interviewers. Just one chair in the center of the room and a tall, sharply dressed man leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. He didn’t look up immediately. Sofia’s throat tightened. He was handsome in a cold, intense way. Dark eyes. Strong jaw. Tailored suit that fit like it was made for him, and it probably was. He exuded wealth and quiet authority, the kind that didn’t need to raise its voice. He finally looked at her. “Name?” he asked, his voice smooth but detached. “Sofia… Sofia Anderson.” There was a pause. His eyes scanned her head to toe. “Sit.” She obeyed quickly, perching on the edge of the chair, hands trembling slightly in her lap. He walked slowly around her, not speaking. It felt more like a silent test than an interview. “Why are you here?” he finally asked. “For the… assistant role,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. His gaze narrowed. “You think you’re qualified?” She hesitated. “I may not have much experience, but I’m a fast learner. I’m reliable. I work hard, and” “Stop.” Her voice died in her throat. He walked back in front of her, eyes unreadable. “I don’t need a PA.” Sofia blinked. ''I… I don’t understand. The job listing'' “The listing was a cover,” he said coolly. ''What I need is a wife.'' For one year.''