PRESIDENT'S CONTRACTUAL WIFE

The Phone call

The first thing Erika noticed was the steady beeping sound.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Her eyelid felt unusually heavy. Slowly, she forced them open.

“Bright white light greeted her. She stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, her mind black.”

“Where I’m?” Erika panicked

Then the memories of the warehouse, kidnapper, her mother, and then Damien appearing of nowhere rushed back.

“ Erika’s eyes widened. “

“She tried to sit up, but a sharp dizziness hit her.”

“Miss Sinclair. “ A voice sounded behind her.

She turned her head, and a nurse hurried over. “You shouldn’t move too quickly , you aren’t stable yet.” The nurse warned.

“My mother. “ Erika said, panicking

The doctors are examining her. “But She’s safe.” The nurse smiled, reassuring.

Erika felt her entire body relax.

“And the man?”

“Where is he?”

“He was..”

Just then, the hospital door room opened.

Assistant Ashford stepped inside.

The moment he saw her a wake, relief crossed his usually composed face.

“You’re finally awake?”

Erika immediately looked behind him.

“Mr Blackwood...”

Ashford’s face changed instantly.

Erika’s heart raced.” Is he...ok?”she asked, her voice trembling.

“Erika...”

Tear quickly filled Erika’s eyes before assistant Ashford could anything Erika was already on her feet, pulked out the Iv, and ran to the exit.

They tried to stop her, but she’d gone wild.

“Let me go, I want to see him”

Erika listen he’s ...

“He’s fine”

The answer came from the doorway

Erika froze.

Damien Blackwood walked into the room still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, though his jacket was gone.

His expression remained calm, but there were dark circles beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept at all.

For a moment, neither of them spoke

Heat rushed to Erika’s face.

“I...I was only asking because–“ Erika’s throat went dry

Damien frowned

Ashford couldn’t help but smile.

“You look terrible. “ Damien finally said

“What!” Elena exclaimed

“You’ve been unconscious nearly for twelve hours.” He said.

“I’m sorry”

Damien raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Foe causing trouble.”

The room fell silent.

Assistant Ashford quickly looked away

Damien stared at her, their eyes locking at the moment. Something twisted in his heart

He coughed slightly

“A bout the kidnapper, we haven’t found anything valuable” He side breaking the silence

But we shall truck them down if they use the card. The kidnapper had fled with one million and the black card Erika had offered him.

Erika’s eyes darkened. “She’d a suspect in mind who would dare use dirty tricks on, but she didn’t dare tell Damien because she needed more proof.”

Someone has been moving pieces on a chessboard. He said, his eyes darkening at the moment

“Do you have enemies or someone you have wronged?” Damien asked. Because we noticed that someone had been following and watching your every move at the office.

“Follow!”

Erika felt a chill run down her spine.

“You found something?” She asked

Damien exchanged a glance with assistant Ashford.

Ashford placed a tablet on the bed.

“Not enough”

He tapped the screen. But we found something interesting.

Erika looked down, her face instantly paled.

“A photograph filled the screen.”

A woman wearing sunglasses leaving Blackwood Palace Hotel the night of the incident

The timestamp was only minutes before Erika arrived.

She didn’t recognise the person.

“what does this mean?” she asked

Ashford zoomed in. The woman was holding a phone to her ear.

“According to the hotel records,” Ashford said. “This woman made a phone call from the hotel shortly before the fake instruction about the file was delivered. “

Erika’s heartbeat quickened

“Who’s she?”

Damien’s expression turned ice cold.

“We dint know yet”

His gaze remained fixed on the image.

“Who ever she is, she’s her to destroy you or me.” Damien said.

Erika’s mind raced. “ She had thought of her family, but the woman in the picture was neither of them.”

Her mind was interrupted by the sudden ring of Damien’s phone.

“I will pick this” He said before walking out of the room.

A few minutes later, Damien returned.

I have an urgent matter to handle at home. He said

Erika’s heart ached. Is it because of the phone call that he is leaving?. She mattered

Miss Sinclair, in case of anything, you can give Assistant Ashford a call. He said before walking toward the exist assistant Ashford trailing behind.

Erika wanted to say something, but the figure had already disappeared before she could.

“Who was on the call.” Erika wondered.

Meanwhile, in the car, Damien sat quietly in the back seat.

Assistant Ashford kept staring at him in the rare mirror while his had gripped the staring wheel.

Damien looked worried, and a hint of tiredness showed clearly on his face.

“To the Blackwood Jewellery store. “ He said

Ashford nodded and focused his eyes on the road.

A few minutes later, their car came to halt in front of a luxurious building that sparkled like stars.

Greetings, Mr Blackwood.

Greetings, Mr Blackwood .

Workers greeted him one by one, bowing their heads.

His expression was unreadable. He neither smiled nor responded. He just nodded

Mr Blackwood, what a pleasant visit. The store manager said his smile wide.

“Get me the most expensive Diamond ring that you have, Custom made.” He said

Assistant Ashford’s eyes widened.

“Was the boss planning to propose.?“ He muttered

“Yes sir.” The manager quickly directed the lady behind the counter, whose eyes were focused on Damien the moment he stepped in.

Damien also picked a necklace made of pure gold.

Assistant Ashford held the well packed items while they walked toward the exit.

“Sir,” He said

“Are you...?”

Damien shot him a dangerous glare that sent a shiver down his spine.

The car was a gain in silence until they parked in front of a villa.

“Pick me by 8:00am” Damien commanded

Ashford nodded

“Yes sir.”

The villa was silent.

Damien stepped in.

“I’m home,” she’d said.

That was all it took. He’d ended the call, told Ashford “Blackwood Jewellery,” and walked out. Didn’t plan it. Saw the window display and thought Jennifer.

His suit was sharp. Fresh from the store. The only sign of the day was the slight pull at his tie.

He scanned the room.

There she was.

A tall silhouette first. Then, the TV glow caught her. Jennifer. Stretched across the couch like a living ad — blonde hair twisted up, loose pieces at her neck, silk robe parted at the thigh, bare feet, no makeup.

Still the most beautiful thing he’d ever put his money behind.

She was laughing at the sitcom. Didn’t hear him come in.

The day fell off his shoulders. Deals, boardrooms, Blackwood — gone. Just her. Chanel No. 5 and home.

“Jen.” Low.

Her head snapped up. Her face broke into that smile — the one that closed Versace contracts and ended his self-control. “Damien!”

She was across the room before he dropped

the Blackwood bags. Arms around his neck, silk and warmth, and Paris clinging to her skin.

“God, I missed you,” she breathed against his jaw.

He locked his arms around her. Exhaled for the first time all day. “You’re here.”

“You sound surprised.” She pulled back to study him, fingertips brushing his cheek. “You look tired. Did your merger try to kill you?”

He huffed a laugh. Finally. “Something like that.”

“Milan. How was it?”

That did it. She grabbed his hand, dragged him to the couch, and tucked herself against his side. And she talked. Three shows. Two shoots. The cathedral campaign. “Lucien Sterling’s photographer was a creep — tried to call it ‘art’ when he asked me to lose the top. Please. Art doesn’t pay for this robe.”

Damien’s hand settled on her knee, thumb stroking silk. Listening. Really listening. This was Jennifer unfiltered — sharp, brilliant, his.

His other hand stayed in his jacket pocket. Two Blackwood boxes. Heavy.

When she paused for air, eyes bright, cheeks flushed from talking, he moved.

“I got you something.”

First box. Black velvet. He flipped it open.

Jennifer’s hands flew to her mouth. “Damien…”

Gold chain — thick but elegant. Diamond pendant cut like a tear, catching the TV light. He shifted behind her, lifted her hair, and the clasp clicked at her nape. His mouth grazed her pulse point. “Welcome home, baby.”

She twisted in his arms and kissed him. Slow, deep, and grateful. “You’re insane. I love you.”

His pulse was a drum.

Now.

Other pocket. Other box.

He pulled back just enough to see her, thumb brushing the new diamond at her throat.

“Jen.”

She hummed, eyes still on the necklace. “Mm?”

“When do you think—” His voice dropped. Steady. Certain. “When could we get married?”

She stilled.

The smile didn’t drop. It froze.

Then she laughed — light, breathless - that PR laugh she used on red carpets. She tucked hair behind her ear. “Damien, come on. Not yet.”

His hand paused on her neck.

“I have to build my brand.” Quick. Like she’d rehearsed it. “You know this. Marriage is a whole thing — commitment and commitment mean kids eventually.” She sat up, gesturing to herself with a wry smile. “I didn’t kill myself for this body to blow it up with a baby. One pregnancy, and I’m over. No covers, no campaigns. I’d be irrelevant before I’m thirty.”

The sitcom laugh track filled the silence.

Damien didn’t laugh.

He just looked at her. Really looked.

Then he stood. Slow. Controlled.

“Damien?” Confused now.

“Jet lag,” he said. Flat. “You should sleep it off.”

He walked. Past the champagne he’d delivered. Past the Santorini photos on the wall. Up the stairs, one at a time. The bedroom door clicked shut.

Quiet.

He reached into his pocket. Second box. Flipped it open.

2.5 carats. Emerald cut. Flawless. Jennifer engraved inside the band in his script.

His jaw worked.

She’d said I love you with a new necklace on her neck. She’d said not yet to his name.

His thumb closed the box.

Downstairs, the TV kept laughing