Chapter Two: The Contracted Bride
1186 Words
The ink on the contract was still wet when Maya stepped back into the world as someone else—not just Maya Delaine, the unemployed daughter of a sick mother, but Maya Delaine-Kessler, the soon-to-be wife of a billionaire.
Adrian had made it clear this wasn’t just a formal arrangement on paper. For the contract to serve its purpose—to appease his board, convince the public, and secure the impending family trust transfer—they had to sell it like the real thing. That meant public appearances, shared spaces, and press interviews. A life together, however fabricated.
But nothing in Maya’s life had ever felt more real—or more terrifying.
She sat in the backseat of Adrian’s chauffeured Bentley, a designer garment bag on her lap and a folder of strict guidelines he had given her. "Rules of Engagement," he’d called it, with an amused gleam in his eye. She hadn’t been amused.
Rule One: Never break character in public.
Rule Two: Appear affectionate, but not overly intimate.
Rule Three: Keep private life details confidential.
Rule Four: Always be punctual, polished, and prepared.
There were ten in total, each more corporate than the last. She couldn’t tell if she’d signed up for a marriage or a hostile takeover.
The car rolled smoothly through the upscale district of Belcrest Heights until it pulled into a private driveway lined with sculpted hedges and security cameras. The house—or rather, mansion—loomed ahead like something out of a lifestyle magazine. Modern glass architecture mixed with dark stone and sharp lines. It was cold, intimidating, and undeniably masculine. Adrian Kessler in architectural form.
The driver opened her door, and Maya stepped out, heels clicking against marble. Adrian waited by the front door, phone in hand, sharp in another custom suit.
“You’re late,” he said, not looking up.
“I’m right on time,” she replied.
He finally looked at her, a flicker of approval passing through his eyes. “Good.”
Without another word, he turned and opened the door for her.
Inside was all black marble, chrome finishes, and minimalist décor. Not a photo frame or cozy cushion in sight.
“You live here alone?” she asked.
“I value peace,” he said simply, leading her into the grand living area.
He motioned for her to sit. She perched at the edge of a sleek white sofa while he took the armchair across from her, crossing one leg over the other. A folder sat on the table between them.
“Our legal marriage registration is tomorrow. The media will catch on quickly. After that, your full-time residence is here. I’ll assign you a driver and personal assistant. You’ll be expected at several events this week, starting with the Kessler Foundation Gala Friday night.”
Maya blinked. “You don’t waste time.”
“I don’t believe in it,” he said. “We have twelve months. Every moment counts.”
She swallowed, the reality beginning to sink in. “And your family… Do they know?”
“No,” he said. “But my grandmother will. Soon. She’s the reason for all this. If she believes we’re genuinely married and I’ve settled down, the trust will transfer.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Adrian’s eyes darkened. “Then all of this is for nothing.”
Maya stood, nerves tight. “You know this is crazy, right?”
“Crazy is subjective,” he said. “But effective? Yes.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Alright. Let’s do crazy, then.”
The following morning was a whirlwind.
Maya stood in front of the full-length mirror in one of Adrian’s guest bedrooms—which, for all intents and purposes, was now her bedroom. A sleek cream gown hugged her curves tastefully, designed by one of the fashion houses Adrian had on speed dial. Her hair was styled in soft waves, and delicate makeup emphasized her eyes.
“You look like a bride,” said Tanya, Adrian’s personal assistant, who was now acting as Maya’s own.
“I feel like a con artist,” Maya muttered.
Tanya chuckled. “Welcome to high society.”
They met Adrian at the City Registrar’s office. It was supposed to be a quiet affair—no press, no cameras—but somehow, a photographer had caught them walking out, fingers lightly interlaced. Adrian didn’t flinch. He smiled for the cameras like a seasoned politician, leaned down to whisper something into Maya’s ear, and she smiled instinctively. Later, the tabloids would call it "the look of new love." Maya knew better. It was pure survival.
After signing the marriage certificate, Adrian arranged a formal dinner with his grandmother, the infamous Evelyn Kessler—a woman known for her sharp tongue and shrewd business instincts. Convincing her wouldn’t be easy.
“Do not mention the contract,” Adrian warned in the car, adjusting his cufflinks.
“You think I’m stupid?”
“I think you’re nervous. And when people are nervous, they talk too much.”
Maya narrowed her eyes. “What about you? Are you nervous?”
Adrian’s jaw flexed. “Always.”
It was the most human thing he’d said all day.
The dinner was held at the Kessler estate, a lavish, ivy-covered manor on the outskirts of the city. Evelyn Kessler sat at the head of a twelve-seat dining table, eyes sharp beneath silver curls. She looked Maya up and down.
“So this is the girl who finally managed to tame Adrian Kessler,” she said with a half-smile.
Maya took a breath. “He’s not as untamable as people think.”
Evelyn’s eyes twinkled. “Or maybe you’re just more stubborn.”
“I like to think so.”
Adrian watched the exchange silently, his expression unreadable. But later, as they left, he murmured, “That was well done.”
“Do I get a gold star?”
“You get to keep the illusion going.”
—That night, Maya wandered the mansion, unable to sleep. The echoing halls felt cold and unfamiliar. She found herself in the massive kitchen, barefoot and craving something sweet.
To her surprise, Adrian was there too, sleeves rolled up, sipping whiskey at the counter.
“You drink alone?” she asked.
He raised a brow. “You sneak sugar at midnight?”
“Touché.”
He gestured toward a box on the counter. “There are macarons. Tanya leaves them. I think she’s trying to soften my image.”
Maya opened the box, grinning. “Vanilla. My favorite.”
Adrian watched her quietly. “Why did you say yes?”
“To the marriage?”
He nodded.
She leaned against the counter. “Because I had no other option. My mom’s medical bills are piling up. And honestly… it felt like the first time someone saw me as useful.”
Adrian was silent for a long time. Then: “You’re more than useful, M
aya. You’re necessary.”
For the first time, the contract felt less like a trap… and more like something else entirely.
- Writer
