The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

Chapter 5: The Wedding Night

Emily

I woke to pale morning light filtering through silk curtains and the distant sound of rain against the windows. For a moment, I forgot where I was—this room was too grand, too quiet, nothing like the cramped apartment I'd shared with my family where David's alarm clock always went off at six and Mom's morning cough echoed through thin walls.

Then reality crashed back. The Blackwood mansion. My wedding night. Aiden's midnight rescue mission for Clara.

I glanced at the ornate clock on the nightstand: 7:23 AM. He'd been gone for over four hours, and I had no idea if he'd even come home.

Why do you care? I asked myself, but the answer was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

A soft knock interrupted my brooding. "Come in," I called, expecting maybe a maid or housekeeper.

Instead, Abraham Blackwood entered, carrying a silver tea service that looked far too heavy for a man his age.

"Good morning, granddaughter," he said warmly, setting the tray on the small table by the window. "I thought you might appreciate some company for breakfast."

I sat up, suddenly conscious of my silk pajamas and tousled hair. "Abraham, you shouldn't be carrying heavy trays. Where's the staff?"

"I gave them the morning off. Sometimes an old man needs to feel useful." He settled into one of the chairs with a small grunt of effort. "Besides, I suspected you might need someone to talk to after... last night's events."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "You know about—"

"My dear, when someone tears out of the driveway at midnight with his tires screaming, it tends to wake the household." Abraham's expression was gentle but troubled.

"Aiden received a call from Clara around eleven-thirty. She was... distraught about something."

I climbed out of bed and joined him at the table, grateful for the warmth of the tea he poured for me.

"Do you know what happened?"

Abraham hesitated, clearly debating how much to share.

"Clara's European engagement fell through rather spectacularly yesterday. The family discovered some... financial irregularities in her background. The wedding was called off, quite publicly, and she's been effectively blacklisted from their social circle."

I nearly choked on my tea. "Yesterday? She knew all this at my wedding reception and said nothing?"

"Clara Whitmore is many things, but she's not one to show weakness publicly. She waited until she was alone to fall apart." Abraham's weathered hands wrapped around his teacup.

"Aiden has always been her safety net, the one person who would drop everything to help her."

The bitter taste in my mouth had nothing to do with the tea. "Even on his wedding night."

"Especially on his wedding night, I'm afraid." Abraham's eyes met mine across the table. "Clara has excellent timing when it comes to emotional manipulation."

I stared out at the rain-soaked gardens, trying to process this information. "So she's available again. Free to pursue whatever she wants."

"Yes. And what she wants has always been Aiden."

"Then why didn't she fight harder to keep him two years ago? Why choose the European merger over him?"

Abraham's laugh was dry and humorless.

"Because Clara believed she could have both—marry for advantage while keeping Aiden as her emotional insurance policy. She didn't count on him actually moving on, even temporarily."

"But he hasn't moved on, has he?" The words came out more vulnerable than I'd intended. "Last night proved that."

Abraham studied me carefully. "What do you think about my grandson, Emily? Not as his contracted wife, but as a woman. What do you see when you look at him?"

The question caught me off guard. I set down my teacup, considering how to answer honestly.

"I see someone who's afraid," I said finally.

"Someone who's built so many walls around himself that he's forgotten how to let people in. Someone who confuses love with weakness and vulnerability with failure."

"And?"

"And I see someone worth fighting for, which is the most inconvenient thing I could possibly feel right now." The admission slipped out before I could stop it.

Abraham's smile was knowing and a little sad.

"Clara sees those same walls, but instead of wanting to tear them down, she reinforces them. She convinces Aiden that emotional distance is strength, that business-like relationships are safer than messy, complicated love."

"Maybe she's right," I said quietly. "Maybe this whole arrangement would be easier if I could keep my feelings as detached as his seem to be."

"Is that what you want? To spend the next year as strangers sharing a house?"

Before I could answer, we heard the front door open downstairs, followed by heavy footsteps on the marble floor. Aiden was finally home.

Abraham rose carefully from his chair.

"Think about what you want from this marriage, my dear. Not what the contract says, not what's safe or practical, but what you actually want. And then decide if you're brave enough to fight for it."

He paused at the door. "For what it's worth, I believe you are."

After he left, I sat alone with my tea, listening to the sounds of Aiden moving around downstairs. Part of me wanted to go to him, to ask if Clara was alright, to play the concerned wife. But another part—the part that remembered his complete lack of defense at the reception—held me back.

Twenty minutes later, another knock came at my door.

"Come in," I called, expecting Abraham to return.

Instead, Aiden appeared in the doorway, still wearing his clothes from the reception. His hair was disheveled, his bow tie hung loose around his neck, and exhaustion shadowed his eyes.

"We need to talk," he said without preamble.

"Do we?" I remained seated at the table, not making this easy for him. "I thought everything was perfectly clear."

Aiden stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "About last night—"

"Which part? The reception where your ex-fiancée publicly humiliated me while you stood there saying nothing? Or the part where you abandoned me on our wedding night to go running to her rescue?"

My voice was calmer than I felt, but Aiden flinched as if I'd slapped him.

"Clara was in crisis. Her engagement fell through, and she—"

"I know about the engagement," I interrupted. "Abraham filled me in on the details."

Aiden's jaw tightened. "My grandfather had no right—"

"To what? Tell me the truth about why my husband disappeared on our wedding night?" I stood up, finally facing him fully. "He had every right, Aiden. I'm your wife now, remember? Even if it's only temporary, even if it's only business, I deserve basic courtesy and honesty."

"You're right," he said quietly, the admission seeming to surprise him as much as it did me. "You deserved better than that."

"Yes, I did." I moved to the window, needing some distance between us. "So what happens now? Clara's available again, you're clearly still in love with her, and I'm the inconvenient obstacle in your way."

"It's not that simple—"

"Isn't it?" I turned back to face him.

"You have a choice to make, Aiden. You can spend the next year pining after a woman who chose someone else over you, someone who only wants you now because her other options fell through. Or you can try to make something real out of this arrangement we're both stuck with."

Aiden stared at me, something shifting in his storm-gray eyes. "And what would you want to make of it?"

The question hung in the air between us, loaded with possibilities I wasn't sure either of us was ready to face.

"I want to matter," I said honestly. "I want to be more than just a placeholder in your life. I want you to defend me when someone attacks me, to consider my feelings before you go racing off to play hero for your ex-fiancée."

"Emily—"

"I want you to look at me the way you looked at her last night," I continued, my voice growing stronger. "Like I'm someone worth caring about, worth protecting, worth... loving."

The last word came out as barely a whisper, but it might as well have been a shout for the way Aiden reacted. He took a step back, his face closing off.

"Love isn't part of this arrangement," he said carefully. "We agreed—"

"No, you decided," I corrected. "You decided that love was too risky, too messy, too dangerous. But I never agreed to spend a year pretending to be someone I'm not just to make you comfortable."

Aiden was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on something beyond the window. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with exhaustion and something else I couldn't identify.

"Clara needed help. She was... she was talking about doing something stupid, something permanent. I couldn't just ignore that."

The implications of his words hit me like a physical blow. "She threatened to hurt herself?"

"She was drunk, alone, and devastated. Her entire future just collapsed in the span of twenty-four hours." Aiden's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I've known her since we were children. I couldn't let her—"

"I understand," I said quietly, and I did. Whatever else Clara might be, whatever games she might play, the thought of someone in that kind of despair was heartbreaking. "Is she okay now?"

Aiden nodded slowly. "I got her to a friend's house. Someone who can keep an eye on her for a few days while she figures out what comes next."

"Good." I meant it, even though the situation complicated everything between us.

"But Aiden? Next time something like this happens, I need you to tell me. Not leave me wondering where you went or why. I may not be your real wife, but I deserve basic consideration."

Something in his expression softened. "You're right. I should have said something before I left."

"Yes, you should have."

We stood there in awkward silence for a moment, both of us processing the weight of what had just been said.

"I should let you get dressed," Aiden said finally. "Margaret wants to go over your schedule for the week, and there are some social obligations—"

"Aiden?" I interrupted.

"What?"

"This year doesn't have to be miserable for both of us. We can be friends, at least. Partners in this charade." I managed a small smile. "What do you say?"

For the first time since I'd known him, Aiden's smile looked completely genuine.

"I'd like that," he said. "I'd like that very much."

After he left, I found myself smiling too. It wasn't love, it wasn't the fairy tale ending little girls dreamed of. But it was a beginning.

And sometimes, that was enough.