CONTRACT MARRIAGE WITH THE COLD BILLIONAIRE BOSS

Sasha’s POV A month from today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. My wedding day. My fresh start. My forever. But fate… had something else in mind. I walked out of the bridal shop hugging my newly purchased gown to my chest, still breathless from happiness. I had just completed the last installment — a big achievement for someone like me. The cashier smiled and asked, “Your groom didn’t come with you today?” I forced a small smile. “He had some business to handle.” I stepped outside and waited. Ten minutes. Twenty. Two hours. He never came. Eventually, I took the bus home, my chest tight with disappointment. When I finally arrived, spotting Bennett’s car parked in front of my house was like a burst of relief. He came. He actually came. Or so I thought. The streetlight cast a pale glow into the car, outlining two figures inside — too close, too intertwined. My heart stuttered. I refused to assume the worst. I stepped closer. Then I heard her thin cruel voice. My stepsister. “Babe, do you think your fiancée is prettier than me?” Bennett’s voice followed, low and careless. “Prettier? She’s not even worthy of looking at you.” “Then come here,” she whispered. “Give me a kiss.” A chorus of suggestive sounds filled the car — enough to leave no space for doubt. A soft ripping sound. Their muffled laughter. Her voice again, taunting, coated in poison. “So… do you think my sister is wilder than I am?” “Never,” Bennett muttered. “She runs from me like I’m contagious. You, on the other hand…ride me like crazy”. “Then suck those titties till they don’t have the strength to stand”. Their voices blurred into more intimate sounds — too explicit, and unmistakably adult sounds. I froze. My hand on the car handle trembled. Tears dripped onto my fingers before I even realized I’d been crying. Twenty agonizing minutes later, Olivia spoke again: “You owe me a new Chanel dress. This one’s basically ruined.” Bennett chuckled. “I’ll buy you the latest one.” Then Olivia lowered her voice, fake sadness lacing her tone. “It still hurts me… seeing my man marry someone else. My step-sister, of all people.” “Relax,” he said. “Once I get her mother’s ancient herbal recipe, I’ll divorce her and marry you immediately.” That was the moment something inside me snapped like a brittle bone. My mother’s herbal recipe — the only inheritance she left me — and they dared to plot against me for it. I stepped back into the shadows, hit record on my phone, and captured everything. Every word. Every sound. Then I walked back inside as if nothing had happened. The month passed in a strange silence. And I made sure they kept on thinking nothing was wrong and they had me fooled as usual. Bennett kept pretending, whispering sweet nothings, acting like the perfect groom. Olivia even apologized to me — for the first time in her life — claiming she wanted us to “start over.” I smiled politely. They had no idea for what’s coming to them. The wedding day arrived. The church smelled of roses and polished marble. Guests filled the seats in bright colors. Music flowed. Cameras flashed. I walked down the aisle, veil floating, dress delicate around me. Bennett stepped forward, holding a bouquet of red and white roses. Then — dramatically — he dropped to one knee. “Sasha… you’ve brought so much joy into my life. I can’t imagine waking up without you by my side. I want you to be the mother of my children. The woman of my future. Sasha… will you marry me?” Cheers burst around us. But I just stared at him — cold, empty. Then I reached out, took the roses… and crushed them under my heel. Gasps echoed. Phones lifted. Cameras zoomed in on us fast. Good. Let them record every second. Bennett’s smile faltered. “Sasha… don’t make a scene. This is our wedding.” I let out a humorless laugh. “You know what’s funny? You suddenly know what the sentence ‘make a scene’ means. So tell me—” I raised my voice, “—what do you call sleeping with my step-sister?” Silence slammed through the hall. Olivia rushed forward, eyes wide and fake tears already forming. “Sasha! How can you accuse me of—” I ignored her completely. Instead, I walked straight to the DJ booth, plugged in my phone, and hit play. The hall filled with the recording — every mocking word, every intimate sound, every plan to use me and throw me away. Then the dash-cam footage appeared on the giant screen behind the altar. Parents covered their children’s eyes. Guests whispered. “How shameless.” “With her sister’s fiancé?” “What a vixen…” “A snake!” When the video ended, both Olivia and Bennett were speechless. I stepped forward, picked up the microphone, and said clearly: “This wedding… is over.” Then I turned and walked out of the church. A month ago, something inside me broke. Today, that broken piece sharpened into something new — something fearless. And I was more than ready for whatever will come next.