The Billionaire's Accidental Bride

Abby Carter had always believed that bad days couldn’t get any worse. She was wrong. They could. And apparently, they could get much, much worse. “You’re fired.” The two words hung in the tiny café like a death sentence. Abby stared at her manager, wondering if she had somehow misheard him. “I’m… fired?” Her manager avoided her eyes as he wiped the counter with a cloth that was already clean. “Business has been slow. We have to let some people go.” “But you told me yesterday that I was doing well.” “I know.” “And I’ve been working here for almost two years now.” “I know that too.” Abby folded her hands tightly in front of her. “So why me?” Her manager sighed. “Because you’re the newest full-time employee.” Abby almost laughed. Newest? She had worked there for nineteen months. She had opened the café before sunrise, closed it after midnight, covered shifts when people called in sick, and smiled at customers who treated her like she was invisible. And now she was being fired because she was the “newest.” “When do I get my final paycheck?” “Friday.” “Friday?” “That’s the best I can do.” Abby stared at him. Her rent was due in three days. Her electricity bill was already overdue. And her younger sister’s university fees were waiting on her. Friday suddenly felt like a lifetime away. She forced a smile. “Okay.” She took off her apron, folded it neatly, and placed it on the counter. Then she walked out. The moment the café door closed behind her, the smile disappeared. “Great.” She looked up at the grey sky. “Just great.” Five minutes later, rain began pouring. Of course. Abby pulled her handbag over her head and started running. She had no umbrella. No job. Barely enough money for transportation. And absolutely no idea what she was going to tell her sister. She reached the corner of the street and stopped beneath the awning of a luxury hotel. She stared through the glass doors. People inside were dressed in expensive suits and elegant gowns. Waiters carried champagne. Women wore diamonds that probably cost more than her entire apartment building. Abby looked down at her soaked sneakers. She didn’t belong there. She was about to turn away when a hotel employee rushed through the doors. ”Miss!” Abby looked behind herself. The employee was running towards her. “Yes?” “You’re late. They’re waiting for you.” Abby blinked. “I’m sorry?” “The meeting. Mr. Blackwood has been waiting for twenty minutes.” “Mr. who?” “Blackwood. Please come quickly.” Abby shook her head. “Wait. I think you’ve made a mistake.” “You’re Ms. Carter, aren’t you?” “Yes, but…” Before Abby could explain, he hurried her inside. The warm air hit her face, making her even more aware of how drenched she was. “Look at me,” she protested. “I’m soaked. I don’t even know who this Mr. Blackwood is.” “I’m sure he’ll explain everything.” The elevator doors opened. The employee gestured for her to enter. Abby hesitated. Maybe she should leave. But something about the urgency in his voice made her step inside. The elevator stopped on the thirty-second floor. The doors opened. Abby stepped out. A long corridor stretched out before her, lined with dark wood and expensive paintings. At the end stood a pair of enormous wooden doors. The employee opened them. “Mr. Blackwood is inside.” “Wait…” The doors closed behind her. Abby turned around. “Seriously?” She took a deep breath. Maybe this was some strange job interview, maybe someone had recommended her. Maybe… “You’re late.” Abby spun around. A man stood at the end of the conference table. Tall. Broad shoulders. Perfectly tailored black suit, dark hair swept neatly away from his forehead, and eyes so cold they could have frozen rain outside. He didn’t look at her immediately. He was reading something on a tablet. Then his eyes lifted. Abby froze. The man’s gaze travelled from her wet hair to her soaked sneakers. His expression hardened. “You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” Abby’s eyebrows shot up. “I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere.” A brief silence followed. His jaw tightened. “Interesting.” He placed the tablet on the table. “Come here.” Abby didn’t move. “Who are you?” One eyebrow lifted. “You don’t know who I am?” “No.” For the first time, something resembling amusement appeared in his eyes. It vanished almost instantly. “Adrian Blackwood.” Abby waited. He stared at her. Apparently, she was supposed to react. “I’m sorry. Should I know you?” His expression became unreadable. “Everyone knows me.” “Well, I don’t.” The corner of his mouth twitched. It was the smallest reaction, but Abby noticed it. Before either of them could speak, the door behind them opened. A woman in an expensive cream-coloured dress entered the room. She looked at Abby. Then at Adrian. Her face immediately paled. “That’s her?” Adrian nodded. “Yes.” Abby looked between them. “What’s going on?” The woman approached her slowly. “You’re Abigail Carter?” “Yes.” “And you’re twenty-four?” “Yes….” The woman’s hands began trembling. “Then there’s no mistake.” Abby frowned. “What mistake?” The woman looked at Adrian before turning back to her. “You’re the woman my Adrian is supposed to marry.” Abby’s mouth fell open. “What?” “Your grandmother signed the agreement years ago. Our families arranged the marriage.” Abby stared at her in disbelief. “My grandmother?” “Yes.” “My grandmother has been dead for six years. “I know.” The woman reached for the folder on the table. “That’s why we’ve been trying to find you.” Abby shook her head. “This isn’t real.” Adrian picked up the folder and tossed it towards her. It landed in front of her.” “Read it.” Her hands trembled as she opened it. The first page contained a legal document. Her name was there. Abigail Rose Carter. And beneath it was another name. Adrian Alexander Blackwood Her heart began pounding. “This is impossible.” “It isn’t.” She looked up at him. “Why would my grandmother arrange a marriage with someone I’ve never even met?” Adrian’s expression gave nothing away. “That is a question for your grandmother.” “She’s dead!” “Then perhaps someone else knows the answer.” Abby pushed the document away. “Whatever this is, I’m not marrying you.” Adrian leaned back against the table. “You have a choice.” “Good. Because I’m choosing no.” “Then leave.” Abby turned towards the door. But his next words stopped her. “Just remember one thing.” She looked back. His expression was completely emotionless. “If you walk out of that door, the people you love will suffer for your decision.” Abby’s stomach dropped. “What does that mean?” Adrian slid another document across the table. “This morning your sister’s university contacted my company” Her blood ran cold. “How do you know about my sister?” “I know about the overdue rent.” He paused. “The university fees, and the debt your family has been trying to hide.” Abby stared at him in horror. “Why are you investigating me?” “I’m not.” His gaze shifted briefly towards his mother. “She is.” The older woman gave Abby an apologetic look. “We’ve been looking for you for months.” Abby shook her head. “This is insane.” She grabbed her handbag. “I don’t care what some agreement says. I’m not marrying a stranger.” She reached the door. “You should think this through.” She stopped. What is that even supposed to mean, she thought. “If you refuse this marriage, your family loses the protection my family has provided for decades.” Abby’s heart sank. “What protection?” Adrian didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced up at the clock. “Your wedding is in four weeks.” Abby stared at him and then she let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re out of your mind.” A faint smile appeared on Adrian’s lips. “Perhaps.” His eyes met hers. “But you’ll still be my wife.” Abby stood frozen in the doorway. She had walked into the hotel room that afternoon thinking she was simply having the worst day of her life. Now she had thirty days to marry a billionaire she had never met, uncover a secret buried in her grandmother’s past, and somehow save her family. She had no idea that the man standing before her was about to change her life forever. And she certainly didn’t know that Adrian Blackwood had a secret of his own.