The Billionaire’s Fake Bride Is Carrying His Real Heir

Chapter 2

Adrian’s Pov

People think money buys you freedom, but they are completely wrong. The more money you have, the more chains your family wraps around your neck.

I learned that lesson from watching my father. He made the mistake of marrying for love, and it ruined him. My mother broke his heart, destroyed our family name, and left behind a legacy of weakness that I swore I would never repeat. Love is a sickness, a distraction that makes strong men weak. That is why my grandfather’s final rule—forcing me to marry before taking full control of Blackwood Enterprises—felt like a cruel joke.

Until I met Mia Carter tonight.

She is standing right here in my private office tower the next morning, looking at the marriage contract I had my lawyers draw up in record time. Sunlight pours through the massive glass windows, lighting up the golden strands in her brown hair. She looks young, barely twenty-four, but there is a fierce fire in her eyes that tells me she is not like the shallow socialites who usually try to catch my attention.

To anyone else, this contract is a cold transaction of mutual convenience. To me, it is merely a strategic chess piece required to secure my legacy. Yet, as she stands before me, holding my future in her delicate hands, the atmosphere in the room feels strangely altered.

"Read it carefully, Mia," I say, leaning back in my leather chair, masking my internal calculations behind a stoic facade. "Every rule is there to protect both of us."

Mia lowers the paper and looks straight at me. Her chin is tilted up, showing she is not intimidated by my office, my reputation, or the dizzying amount of zeroes attached to my net worth.

"I read it," she replies, her voice steady and clear. "Three months as your wife, we live in your penthouse to keep up appearances, and you make sure my uncle Ethan stays away from Carter Holdings. But I have one extra rule, Adrian."

I raise an eyebrow, genuinely amused. "A rule? For me?"

"Yes," she says firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just because we are doing a business deal does not mean you own me. You are used to people bowing down to your every command, but I am your partner in this, not your employee. If you try to control me, this whole thing is over."

I stare at her for a second, feeling a strange jolt of surprise ripple through my chest. Nobody talks to me like that. Board members shake when I walk into a boardroom. Employees whisper and look down when I pass them in the halls. But this tiny woman is standing right in my office, laying down the law to a man twice her business weight without a single tremor in her voice.

"Fine," I say, a small smirk playing on the corners of my lips. "As long as you play your part when we are in public, you can run your life however you want."

The real test comes three days later at a high-society charity dinner party hosted by the city mayor. The grand ballroom is packed to the brim with wealthy investors, politicians, and reporters holding cameras ready to capture every single move. Mia and I walk down the sweeping marble staircase together. She is wearing a stunning emerald-green dress that makes her look like absolute royalty, and her hand rests lightly on my arm, projecting the illusion of domestic bliss.

As we walk past a group of older business partners who are eagerly watching our approach, I turn to Mia and murmur quietly, "Smile and stay close to me. Do not talk unless someone speaks to you directly."

Instead of nodding and playing the obedient spouse, Mia instantly pulls her arm out from under mine. She stops walking dead in her tracks and glares up at me.

"Do not tell me what to do, Adrian," she says clearly, loud enough for the curious onlookers nearby to hear every word.

I freeze, my jaw tightening so hard my teeth ache. "Mia, keep your voice down," I hiss under my breath. "The press is right over there, and every tabloid will have a field day."

"I am not a prop," she says, her tone unwavering as she turns to face Mr. Sterling, one of the most powerful and ruthless investors in the city, who is watching us with wide, astonished eyes. "Hello, Mr. Sterling. Please excuse my husband. He sometimes forgets that I have my own voice."

Mr. Sterling blinks in shock, processing the unprecedented public defiance, and then suddenly bursts out laughing. "Well, Blackwood! It looks like you finally met your match! Good for her!"

Other people nearby start chuckling, amused by the unexpected spectacle. I feel my face grow hot with a dangerous mixture of anger and humiliation. I am Adrian Blackwood; powerful men fear me, and people do not publicly correct me or make me look like a fool in front of my peers. I reach out, grabbing Mia gently but firmly by the elbow, and pull her toward a quiet, shadowed corner behind a large marble pillar, safely away from prying eyes and flashing camera lenses.

"What do you think you are doing?" I demand, keeping my voice low, sharp, and laced with suppressed frustration. "You made us look ridiculous out there!"

Mia violently pulls her arm away from my grip, her brown eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated fire. "I told you in your office, Adrian! I am not one of your corporate employees who will just nod and smile when you snap your fingers! If you want a puppet, you should have married a mannequin. If you want a wife—even a fake one—you have to respect me."

I stare at her, completely speechless, the words catching in my throat. My chest tightens, but this time, it is not with anger. For the first time in my entire life, someone is standing up to me, refusing to bow down to my power or be intimidated by my status. And strangely enough... I find myself respecting her even more for it.

"Just... drink your champagne, Mia," I mutter, rubbing the bridge of my nose in defeat.

"Gladly," she snaps back, snatching a glass from a passing waiter's tray without missing a beat.