The Billionaire's Contract Wife

The First Public Test

Chapter 4: The First Public Test

Emma stood frozen in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back.

The sleek black dress hugged her curves like second skin, and the diamond necklace around her collarbone glittered with quiet menace. She looked elegant, confident—even wealthy.

All a lie.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. “Five minutes,” came the assistant’s voice. “Mr. Carter is waiting downstairs.”

She took a deep breath and walked out of the dressing room. Leonard Huxley stood near the staircase, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. When he looked up, his eyes lingered on her longer than expected.

“You clean up well,” he said coolly.

“You act like you were expecting something else.”

His mouth quirked. “Come on. The charity gala doesn’t wait.”

The black car slid through the city, silent except for the occasional camera flashes already beginning outside the venue. As they pulled up to the red carpet, Emma’s stomach twisted.

Leonard Huxley turned to her, his voice suddenly low and serious. “Remember the rules—smile, stay close, no slipping. Tonight, you’re my bride-to-be.”

She nodded, her throat dry. Then the door opened.

The cameras roared to life.

Leonard Huxley reached for her hand—not cold, not warm, just steady. He wrapped his arm around her waist like it belonged there.

They walked out into the lights, Emma blinded by flashes and overwhelmed by the sea of eyes watching them.

“Smile,” Leonard Huxley whispered through his teeth, lips never moving.

She did. And just like that, the lie began.

Inside the ballroom, powerful men and women turned to stare. Whispers followed them like perfume.

Emma forced a polite laugh when Leonard Huxley leaned in to murmur something in her ear, his breath brushing her skin. She played her role, even when his hand slid lower on her back to sell the illusion.

She wasn’t prepared for how real it all felt.

And neither, it seemed, was he.

Because when their eyes met across the champagne glasses, something shifted.

Something dangerous.