The Billionaire’s Temporary Wife

The Date That Changed Everything

David stared at the phone in his hand, a rare softness brushing his features.

The name on the screen still lingered in his head: Tracy.

It had been nearly three years since he heard her voice, but in just ten minutes, it was like no time had passed. They had caught up casually, carefully. But when she asked him to dinner on Thursday, he didn’t hesitate.

“I’ll pick you up at 8. "You can choose the restaurant,” she said.

David smiled.

And just like that, he convinced himself none of this marriage nonsense mattered anymore. Not the contract. Not Sofia. Not the moments of silence between them that had started to feel too loud.

His real love had come back or at least hinted she might.

So, whatever this thing with Sofia was… he was ready to bury it.

Sofia felt it the moment he walked into the hotel room.

It was subtle the shift in the air, the way his footsteps didn’t pause by the door like they used to. No lingering glance. No small talk.

He stood by the window, his back to her.

“I wanted to let you know,” he said flatly, “I’ll be attending a private dinner on Thursday.” You don’t need to be there.”

Sofia blinked. “Okay.”

He turned just enough for her to catch his expression.

“I’ll be with someone.”

Her throat tightened. “Someone like…?”

“She’s someone important to me. From before.”

The words landed like cold water.

Sofia’s hands curled into fists inside the sleeves of her sweater. She nodded once. “Understood.”

He watched her, waiting for some kind of reaction, a c***k, a protest, anything. But she gave him nothing. And that annoyed him more than he wanted to admit.

The days that followed were tense. Sofia barely left the hotel except to grab coffee or air. The silence between them wasn’t peaceful. It was full of unfinished sentences and unspoken pain.

She couldn’t blame him.

She’d signed up for this.

A year. No strings. No expectations.

And now, the man she was starting to fall for… was going back to the woman he never stopped loving.

Thursday night came too fast.

Sofia sat by the window as the black car pulled up to the entrance. David stepped out in a crisp navy suit with no tie, just that quiet elegance he wore so naturally. His hair slicked back. Watch glinting under the streetlights.

He didn’t glance at the hotel window.

Didn’t look for her.

Sofia turned away.

She had no right to feel this way. But God, she did.

Dinner with Tracy was… easy.

They laughed. They shared old stories. They sipped wine like nothing had ever happened.

But under the surface, David noticed it something had changed. Tracy was more careful now, watching his reactions, as if gauging how much space she still held in his life.

And he was pretending not to notice.

Halfway through dessert, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

“I missed you,” she said softly.

He didn’t move his hand away.

“I missed you too.”

But something about the words felt forced.

That night, David didn’t return to the hotel.

Sofia didn’t sleep.

The bed felt colder than usual and emptier. Her chest ached, but she didn’t cry. She just stared at the ceiling, replaying every moment, every word, every warning sign she ignored.

“No strings.”

She should’ve listened.

When David finally came back the next morning, Sofia was already dressed, standing by the window.

He paused at the door.

“You didn’t need to wait,” he said.

“I didn’t.”

Silence.

He took off his coat slowly, his movements more mechanical than usual. “Dinner went well.”

Sofia nodded. “I figured.”

“She might come by sometime. I just thought you should know.”

Her jaw tightened. “Of course. It’s your life, David. I’m just the contract.”

That hit him harder than he expected. But he said nothing.

She walked past him to the closet.

“Thanks for the update,” she added. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

David turned toward her, wanting to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he watched her walk away.

And for the first time, he felt something that had nothing to do with business:

Regret.