HIS TEMPORARY WIFE

Chapter Four

Alexander's Pov

Marcus dropped the contract on my desk Monday morning with more force than necessary.

"She signed it."

I looked up from my email. "When?"

"Ten minutes ago. Downstairs with legal." He crossed his arms, radiating disapproval. "She cried the entire time."

"That's not my concern."

"It should be." Marcus moved to the window, the same spot I'd stood three days ago when Emma asked why I didn't just marry for real. "You know what I think? I think you're punishing yourself for something, and she's collateral damage."

"Your psychology degree from Google is noted." I pulled up the digital copy of the contract, scanning Emma's signature. Neat, controlled handwriting. "Did the payment transfer?"

"One million dollars hit her account at 9:01 AM. Her mother is being moved to the Boston facility this afternoon." Marcus turned. "You're really going through with this."

"I told you I would."

"Telling me and actually doing it are different things." He sat across from me. "Alexander, once this starts, there's no going back. You'll be legally married to this woman. She'll be living in your home. Carrying a child you'll raise alone. Have you actually thought about what that means?"

I had. I'd thought about little else for three days.

"It means I keep my company and my parents lose their leverage. That's all that matters."

Marcus studied me with those knowing eyes that had seen me at my worst. "Is it really just about the company?"

"What else would it be about?"

"Maybe it's about proving you don't need anyone. That you can build a family the same way you built your empire, through contracts and control instead of actual human connection."

"Are you finished?"

He stood, shaking his head. "No, but I know when I'm wasting my breath. The wedding is scheduled for Thursday. Courthouse, minimal witnesses. I'll be there because someone needs to make sure you don't completely destroy this poor woman's life."

"Her life was already destroyed. I'm giving her a way out."

"Keep telling yourself that." He headed for the door, pausing at the threshold. "For what it's worth, I hope you're right about this. I hope it's as simple and clean as you think it'll be."

After he left, I sat in the silence of my office and allowed myself one moment of doubt.

Emma Chen would be my wife by the end of the week. We'd live together for two years. She'd carry a child that I'd raise alone after she left. It was a perfect plan with no emotional complications.

Except I kept seeing her face in the parking garage, the desperation and exhaustion that mirrored something I recognized in myself. I kept thinking about Marcus's words, collateral damage.

My phone buzzed. A text from Emma: "When do I move in?"

It was professional and discreet, exactly what I needed.

I typed back: "Friday afternoon. After the ceremony. My driver will collect you at noon."

"Okay."

One word. No questions, no protests. She was already becoming what I needed her to be.

***********************

The wedding itself was exactly as impersonal as I'd designed it. Thursday at 2 PM, downtown courthouse, Marcus as my witness. Emma arrived alone, wearing a simple blue dress that looked like something she'd owned for years. No flowers, no music, no pretense that this was anything other than what it was.

The judge, a woman in her sixties who'd probably seen everything, read through the abbreviated ceremony with practiced efficiency.

"Do you, Alexander James Hale, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Emma Rose Chen, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Emma's voice was barely audible. "I do."

"Then by the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The judge closed her folder. "You may kiss the bride if you wish."

We didn't. Emma wouldn't even look at me.

Marcus signed as witness, his jaw tight with disapproval. The whole thing took less than fifteen minutes. I'd spent more time negotiating supply contracts.

Outside the courthouse, Emma finally spoke. "I need to see my mother before I move in tomorrow. Tell her something."

"Tell her what?"

"I don't know yet." She clutched her purse like a lifeline. "Not the truth. A version of it that won't break her heart."

"You could tell her you married for love. People believe what they want to believe."

She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw something in her expression that made me uncomfortable. Pity, maybe. Or recognition of something I didn't want acknowledged.

"Is that what you tell yourself? That this is simple?"

"It is simple."

"No," she said quietly. "It's just easier than the alternative."

She walked away before I could respond, leaving me standing on the courthouse steps with a wife I didn't want and a marriage certificate that meant nothing.

Marcus joined me, hands in his pockets. "She's right, you know."

"Don't start."

"I'm just saying, for someone who claims not to feel anything, you look pretty unsettled right now."

I wasn't unsettled. I was in control. Everything was proceeding exactly according to plan.

That night, I stood in the penthouse preparing for Emma's arrival tomorrow. I'd had the guest suite renovated, fresh paint, new furniture, everything she might need. It was at the opposite end of the apartment from my room, ensuring maximum distance between us.

James, my butler of twenty years, supervised the final touches with his usual quiet efficiency.

"The room is ready, sir. Though I must say, it feels rather cold for a new bride."

"She's not a real bride, James. She's a contractual obligation."

"If you say so, sir." James had perfected the art of disagreement through tone alone. "Will you be joining her for meals?"

"No. We'll maintain separate schedules as much as possible."

"That will be difficult once she's pregnant."

The word pregnant still felt foreign in relation to my life. A child. An heir. The solution to every problem my parents had created.

"We'll manage," I said. "This arrangement works because it has boundaries. As long as we both respect those boundaries, there won't be complications."

James smiled slightly, the expression of someone who'd known me since I was ten and knew exactly how wrong I was about most things.

"Of course, sir. I'm sure it will be exactly that straightforward."

Friday arrived too quickly. I worked from home, telling myself it was to make Emma's transition easier but really because I didn't know what else to do. At noon precisely, my driver called to confirm he'd collected her from her apartment.

Twenty minutes later, I heard the elevator chime.

Emma walked in with a single suitcase and a backpack. That was it. Everything she owned that mattered fit in two bags.

"This is it?" The words came out wrong, almost accusatory.

"I don't have much." She looked around the penthouse, her expression unreadable. "I sold most of my things to pay for Mom's medications before... before this."

Before me. Before the contract that saved her mother and bought her life.

"James will show you to your room. If you need anything, just ask him."

"Where's your room?"

"Other end of the apartment. You won't be disturbed."

She nodded, but something in her face shifted. Disappointment? Relief? I couldn't tell.

James appeared like magic, taking her bags. "This way, Mrs. Hale. I've prepared the blue suite for you."

"Please, just Emma." She followed him, glancing back once. "Mrs. Hale isn't... I'm not really..."

"You are legally," I said. "You might as well get used to the name."

After she disappeared down the hallway, I returned to my office and tried to work. I tried to focus on quarterly reports and acquisition strategies instead of the fact that there was now a woman living in my home. A wife who wasn't a wife. A stranger carrying the solution to all my problems.

My phone rang. My mother.

"I heard you got married." Victoria's voice could cut glass. "Imagine my surprise when the press called for comments about a wedding I wasn't invited to."

"It was a private ceremony."

"It was an insult. Who is she, Alexander? What kind of woman marries a man without even telling his parents?"

"The kind who minds her own business. You should try it."

"I want to meet her. Dinner. Tomorrow night."

"No."

"That wasn't a request." Victoria's tone shifted, becoming the voice she used when making threats. "Bring your wife to dinner tomorrow at seven, or I'll make sure the board hears some very interesting concerns about your sudden, suspicious marriage."

She hung up before I could refuse again.

I found Emma in her room, unpacking her meager belongings. She looked up when I knocked on the open door.

"We will have dinner with my parents tomorrow night," I said. "Seven PM. Dress formally."

Her face went pale. "Already?"

"They're insisting. Fair warning: they're going to hate you."

"Because I'm not good enough for their son?"

"Because nobody is." I turned to leave, then stopped. "Emma? Don't take anything they say personally. They hate everyone equally."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"It's supposed to be honest."

I left her there, looking small and lost in a room bigger than her old apartment, and wondered, not for the first time, what I'd actually done.