The contract wife

The first thing Alex Boston offered Abigail Grace was enough money to save her family, and the second thing he offered was a year of her life. “Marry me,” he said, pushing a contract across his desk. “Stay married to me for twelve months, follow the conditions in that document, and I will pay every hospital bill your family owes. Your brother will receive his surgery, your mother will get the best treatment available, and you will never have to worry about rent again.” Abigail stared at him, wondering whether she had heard him correctly. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of Glitterwood Tower, the city glittered beneath the evening sky. Expensive cars moved along the streets while people hurried home to their families. Inside the office, everything was silent except for the steady ticking of a clock. Alex sat behind his wide black desk, dressed in a perfectly fitted suit. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his handsome face carried an expression that discouraged unnecessary questions. As the chief executive officer of Glitterwood Group, one of the largest companies in the city, he was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Yet he had just asked a complete stranger to become his wife. “Is this some kind of joke?” Abigail asked. “No.” “I have worked three jobs, missed meals, and slept in hospital waiting rooms, but I have never been so desperate that I would mistake a marriage proposal from a stranger for a job interview.” Alex leaned back. “Then consider it a business arrangement. I need a wife, and you need money. We can help each other.” “You don't even know me.” “I know enough.” “Then tell me something about myself that isn't written on a piece of paper.” He studied her before answering. “Your father was Thomas Grace. He worked at Glitterwood Group before he was convicted of financial fraud. You have a sick mother, a younger brother who needs surgery, and several outstanding hospital bills. You recently lost your job at an accounting firm because you refused to alter a financial report.” Abigail felt the blood drain from her face. “How did you get that information?” “My lawyer conducted a background check.” “Without my permission?” “I needed to know who I was dealing with.” “You investigated my family and decided I was suitable for purchase.” “I did not say you were for sale.” “You put a price on my life before I had even sat down.” Alex's expression hardened. “If you intend to turn every sentence I speak into an argument, this arrangement will not work.” “Then find someone who enjoys being treated like a servant.” She pushed the contract toward him. “My family needs help, and I need a job, but that does not mean I have surrendered my right to choose what happens to me.” For several seconds, Alex remained silent. Abigail expected him to call security, but instead, he picked up a pen. “Tell me your conditions.” She blinked. “What?” “If you have conditions, state them.” Abigail studied him carefully. She had heard stories about Alex Boston long before entering his office. Three years earlier, his wife, Victoria, had driven her car off a bridge into a river. Her body had never been recovered, but she had eventually been declared dead. Since then, Alex had become more private, more demanding, and almost impossible to approach. People said he had buried his heart with his wife. Abigail had never cared about his personal life. She had bills to pay and a family to keep alive. “My mother and brother must receive proper treatment,” she said. “Their care must be paid for directly, and the money must be secured before I marry you.” “Agreed.” “I will not sleep with you simply because we are married.” His jaw tightened slightly. “Agreed.” “I will not give up my right to leave the house or continue working. I will attend the public events you require, but you cannot control every part of my life.” “You will live in my house for security reasons. Beyond that, I have no interest in following you around the city.” “That sounds like something a man says when he has enough money to make other people follow someone for him.” His eyes narrowed. “You have a very unpleasant habit of assuming the worst about people.” “And you have a very unpleasant habit of expecting people to obey you.” For one brief moment, something almost like amusement crossed his face before disappearing. Alex removed another document from his drawer. “There is one more condition. Neither of us will tell anyone that this marriage is contractual. My family, the board, the press, and the public must believe our marriage is genuine.” “And what happens when someone asks whether you love me?” “That is a question you should learn to avoid answering.” Abigail looked at the contract. Twelve months of uncomfortable dinners and public appearances seemed bearable if it meant her family could survive. But one question remained. “Why me? You could marry an actress, a model, or a woman from one of those wealthy families who attend your business parties. Why choose me?” Alex's fingers stopped moving. “Because you need the money, you have no connection to my family, and you appear capable of keeping your mouth shut when necessary.” “So you chose me because I am desperate and useful.” “I chose you because this arrangement needs to work.” “Then I hope you are prepared for the possibility that your useful wife might disappoint you.” “I have survived worse disappointments.” Something changed in his expression after he spoke, revealing a loneliness that disappeared almost immediately. Abigail wondered what had hurt him so badly, but she reminded herself that she had not come to understand a stranger. She had come to save her family. They spent the next hour reviewing the contract. Abigail insisted that Caleb's surgery be paid for before the wedding and that her mother's medical expenses be covered through a separate account. She also demanded that Alex could not withdraw financial support as punishment for refusing demands outside their agreement. He objected to several clauses, but she refused to sign until they were settled. Finally, he closed the folder. “The wedding will take place in four days.” “Four days? You cannot be serious.” “The situation requires urgency.” “What situation?” Alex walked toward the window before answering. “My grandfather's will states that I must marry within three months of his death and remain married for one full year. Otherwise, my uncle will gain control of the company through a family trust.” Abigail stared at him. “Your grandfather is dying?” “He has very little time left.” “And he believes a wife will change you?” “He believes I have forgotten how to live outside this building.” “Will a wife change you?” “No.” His answer came so quickly that Abigail almost smiled. “At least you are honest about something.” He returned to his desk and held out his hand. “Do we have an agreement, Miss Grace?” She thought of her mother lying in a hospital bed and Caleb pretending not to be frightened whenever doctors discussed his operation. Walking away would mean returning to the same helpless situation she had struggled with for months. Abigail took Alex's hand. “We have a contract, Mr. Boston. Do not confuse that with trust.” “I would never make that mistake.” She gathered her bag and headed for the door. “One more thing, Abigail.” She turned. It was the first time he had called her by her first name. “There is a room at the end of the east corridor in my house. The door is always locked, and you must never enter it.” “Why?” “Because I said so.” “That is not an answer.” “It is the only one you are getting.” Abigail left without another word. By the time she reached the elevator, she had convinced herself that the locked room was none of her business. She would marry Alex, protect her family, and leave when the twelve months ended. She would not fall in love with a man who treated marriage like a financial transaction. What she did not know was that the locked room contained the one person who could destroy their marriage before it had truly begun. And that person was supposed to be dead.