The Billionaire's Forgotten Wife

I never imagined that eight months of marriage could feel this long. This grand De Luca family home should feel luxurious, warm, and alive. But to me, it feels more like an empty space that's far too vast. Every step I take echoes softly against the marble floor, as if reminding me that I'm alone. "Eight months and it feels like eight years," I murmured quietly, staring at the clock on the wall. Sebastian probably wasn't coming home again tonight. I'd gotten used to it. At first I'd wait in the living room, full of hope, then move to waiting in the bedroom. Now? I just make sure the door is unlocked and the lights are still on. "Why do I still wait?" I whispered bitterly to myself. Though I already knew the answer. Even if this was only a contract marriage, my heart never truly treated it as something temporary. I let out a long sigh and walked to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. It was almost midnight, and the silence was so complete that the ticking of the clock felt intrusive, then the front door opened. I stopped immediately. "Finally." I breathed. The footsteps were heavy and uneven. I closed my eyes for a moment. "Drunk again." I exhaled softly. I walked to the living room, and there he was. Sebastian. His jacket was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened, his steps unsteady. His face was as handsome as ever, but his eyes were vacant and the smell of alcohol was overwhelming. "Just getting home?" I asked, trying to sound calm. He lifted his head slightly. "This is my house," he replied coldly. "I can come home whenever I want." My chest tightened. "I'm not stopping you from coming home," I said, holding back my feelings. "I was just asking." Sebastian laughed a small, hollow sound. "You're acting like a real wife." That sentence cut deep. I looked at him. "I am your wife," I replied, quietly but firmly. He scoffed. "A contract wife," he corrected. "Don't forget that." I was silent for a moment. "A contract doesn't mean you can just disappear," I said. "I don't even know if you still consider this marriage to exist or not." Sebastian walked closer, his steps unsteady but his gaze sharp. "I told you from the very beginning," he said in a low voice, "never expect more than this." I swallowed hard. "And you agreed," he continued. I smiled bitterly. "Yes, I agreed but I didn't agree to be treated like I don't exist." He stopped right in front of me. "If you feel like you don't exist," he said coldly, "that's not my problem." I stared at him, disbelieving. "You really don't care at all?" He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I never cared." That answer hit me like a blow. "Then why did you marry me?" I asked. Sebastian gave a thin smile. "You already know the answer." I laughed quietly, bitterly. "Right, for the deal." Silence settled over us again. Sebastian tried to walk past me, but his body swayed. On instinct, I reached out and caught his arm. "Easy," I said. He stopped. His gaze dropped to my hand, then rose to my face. Something shifted. "Don't touch me if you're not ready," he said quietly. I frowned. "What do you mean…" Before I could finish, he suddenly pulled me close. "Sebastian…!" His arm wrapped around my waist, holding me so I couldn't pull away. His breath was warm and far too close. "Is this what you want?" he whispered low. My heart pounded. "Let me go…" But he didn't. Instead, his face moved toward my neck, and without warning, his lips brushed the curve of it. Soft and warm so different from the coldness he'd always shown. My body tensed, then without meaning to, went limp. I stood still, briefly swept away. That moment stretched out, endlessly. His breath touched my skin, and something inside me crumbled. "Sebastian…" I whispered. Then reality crashed into me. This isn't love. This isn't feeling. This is just a mistake. I pushed him away firmly. "Stop," I said. Sebastian stumbled slightly but finally let me go. I stepped back, my breathing unsteady. "Don't do that again," I said coldly. He looked at me, something different in his eyes now. "I…" he paused. "I didn't mean to…" I shook my head. "I don't need an explanation." I hugged myself. "This is just a contract, Sebastian," I said quietly. "Don't make it seem like anything more." He said nothing and for the first time, he didn't argue. "Go to your room," I added. Sebastian looked at me for a few seconds, then turned and left without a word. His footsteps faded, leaving me alone again, and the room fell quiet once more. I stood there, touching my neck without realizing it. The warmth of his lips still lingered. "Why…" I whispered. Tears fell. "This is only a contract." I repeated softly. I said it again and again, as if saying it enough times could erase what had just happened. I closed my eyes, and this time I knew the problem wasn't the contract. The problem was that my heart had already gone too far. I smiled bitterly. "Four more months." I whispered. I walked to my room, opened the door, then locked it behind me. "Why did I let him?" I whispered, my voice barely audible in the quiet room. I was still leaning against the door, trying to calm my breathing. The image of what just happened kept replaying too close, too real, and far too dangerous for something that was supposed to mean nothing. "I'm such a fool." I murmured. I walked to the bed and sat down slowly. My hand drifted to my neck without thinking. "It's only because he was drunk," I told myself. "By tomorrow, he won't even remember." But somehow, that thought made the emptiness in my chest feel even worse. "And I should forget too." I whispered. But I knew I wouldn't be able to. I lay down, staring at the ceiling. The night felt long, my mind refusing to settle. The feelings I'd been trying to suppress slowly began rising to the surface. About Sebastian. About the distance between us. About something that should never have grown from the very beginning. Then my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I looked over immediately. The screen lit up. Dad. My heart warmed just a little. I quickly reached for it and answered. "Hello, Dad," I said softly. The voice on the other end sounded weak, but warm as always. "Bella, are you busy?" I smiled faintly, even though he couldn't see it. "No. I'm in my room." "How are you doing over there?" he asked. I was quiet for a moment. "Fine," I answered at last, even though the word felt heavy on my tongue. My father let out a soft sigh. "Is your husband treating you well?" That question made me stare blankly ahead. The image of Sebastian came back to me cold, distant, and tonight, far too close. "He…" I stopped. I didn't know what to say. "He's good," I said finally, choosing the safest answer. A brief silence on the other end. Then my father said quietly, "Bella, are you happy?" My chest immediately felt tight. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. "If you're not happy, you don't have to stay," he continued. "Dad doesn't want you sacrificing yourself just for my sake." My eyes began to burn. "I'm doing much better now," he added softly. "You don't have any reason to keep hurting yourself." My hand gripped the phone tighter. "I'm not hurting myself," I whispered. But even I wasn't sure that was true. Silence wrapped around our conversation again. Then, in a deeper voice, my father asked, "Bella, what was the real reason you were willing to marry Sebastian?" My heart felt like it stopped, and I froze. The question was simple yet for the first time, I had no idea how to answer it. Because that reason might have already changed.