Six Months To Conceive (Heiress Contract Husband)

Alice Jacob always believed hell had a specific address. Her father’s office. The glass doors slammed behind her as she stood there—chin raised, spine straight, eyes cold enough to frost steel. The entire executive floor fell silent. Assistants ducked behind computers. Board members pretended to study documents. Even the security guards stiffened. Everyone knew: When Alice Jacob walked with that expression, someone’s life was about to be ruined. And she didn’t disappoint. She marched straight to the long mahogany table where her father, Chairman Jacob, sat with her stepmother at his right hand and her stepbrother lounging smugly at the far end. Alice didn’t bother sitting. “What did you say?” she demanded, voice sharp enough to cut glass. Chairman Jacob removed his glasses slowly, as if savoring her fury. “It’s simple, Alice,” he said. “You have six months to get married and conceive a child. Or your mother’s entire inheritance reverts to the Jacob Group.” Her heart stopped. For a second, she forgot how to breathe. Her fingers curled into fists. “You’re insane.” Cynthia, her stepmother, smiled with practiced innocence. “It was in your mother’s will, dear. You know that. She wanted the legacy to continue through her grandchildren.” “She wanted it to be mine!” Alice snapped. “She never said anything about pregnancy!” Chairman Jacob shrugged. “Well, I’ve had the will reinterpreted. Legally. If you can’t produce a pregnancy test within six months, the inheritance comes back to the rightful family.” Rightful family. Meaning his side. Meaning Cynthia and her disgusting son. Alice’s pulse thundered in her ears. “You’re doing this because you know I hate men,” she spat. “Because you know I don’t want a husband—” “That’s not my concern,” her father cut in. “Six months. I expect results.” **Results.** As if she were a production line. Alice’s jaw locked. “And if I refuse?” Her father clicked his pen, completely unmoved. “Then everything your mother left behind goes to Matthew. The houses. The companies. The royalties. Even her jewelry collection.” Matthew—her stepbrother—lifted his chin with a lazy smirk. “I mean… I don’t mind helping the family manage the assets. But if you insist on throwing a tantrum…” Alice wanted to claw his smug face off. Her voice dropped lower, darker. “You won’t get a single piece of my mother’s legacy.” “Then get pregnant,” Chairman Jacob said simply. It was a knife to her chest. Her stepmother folded her arms. “You’re twenty-four, Alice. It’s not so impossible. Women younger than you already have two or three children.” Her vision blurred. Anger. Disbelief. Betrayal. It all slammed into her at once. “I will never forgive you,” she whispered. Chairman Jacob gave a bored wave. “Drama later. Deadline starts now.” --- Alice stormed out of the boardroom so violently the glass walls trembled. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Anyone who tried to stop her would end up fired… or dead. Her heels punched the marble as she entered the private elevator. The doors closed. And the moment they did— She exploded. “How dare they? How dare they—” She kicked the elevator wall. “Six months? Pregnant? Me? Have they lost their minds? I don’t need a man! I don’t even want a man in my house, near my life, breathing my air—” The elevator dinged. She stomped out. Assistants scattered like mice. Alice wasn’t done. She needed to break something. She marched straight into her office, grabbed the nearest vase, and hurled it at the wall. It shattered in a satisfying explosion of glass. “That’s better,” she muttered. But it wasn’t. Not even close. Her chest tightened. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her mother’s memory—her last safe place—her last hope to escape her father’s control—was under threat. She felt trapped. Cornered. And she hated that feeling more than anything. She slumped into her chair, buried her face in her palms, and forced herself to breathe. Six months. Six months to find a husband. Six months to get pregnant. Impossible. She didn’t date. She didn’t trust. She didn’t even like the idea of sharing her space with someone. Men were users. Liars. Manipulators. Her father had taught her that well. She exhaled shakily. “Well,” she whispered to the empty room, “if I must get married, I’ll do it my way.” Fast. Quiet. Contractual. No emotions. No intimacy. No complications. She turned on her laptop and began typing furiously. --- Six-Month Contract Husband Confidential. Strict rules. No emotional involvement. High payment. Apply only if discreet. She added one more line: Must not irritate me. Alice hit POST. She tossed her phone aside and closed her eyes. She never imagined that the man who would respond to the post… would be someone far more dangerous than her father. Someone she couldn’t control. Someone she shouldn’t touch. Someone she would fall for—against every rule she ever set. But for now, all she knew was anger. And the storm she had unleashed… was already on its way to her.