Fated To Love You: The Cold CEO's Contract Wife

The plane had not yet landed, but Sean Zobel already felt the weight of his family's name pressing against his chest. It was not the turbulence. It was not the long flight from New York to Vesterra. It was the reason he was going back. His phone buzzed beside him. The screen lit up with a familiar name, and for a moment, his shoulders relaxed. *Alexandra.* "Are you there yet?" her voice asked the second he answered. It was soft, impatient, and still faintly accented with the New York cadence she had picked up after living there for years. "Not yet. We're about to land," Sean replied quietly, glancing at the flight attendant walking past the aisle. "Thirty minutes." There was a pause. Then Alexandra spoke again, slower this time, as if she were choosing her words carefully. "Sean, promise me one thing." He already knew what she would say. They had talked about it a hundred times in the past two weeks, on the phone, over video call, even at three in the morning when she could not sleep. "I know." "No, say it," she insisted. "Say you will not get close to her." Sean closed his eyes for a second. The view outside his window was clouds and sky, endless blue, nothing like the world he was about to return to. "Alex, I promised you. I am only going to Valdoria because Grandpa is sick. He wants to see me before anything happens. That's it." "Your grandpa is not just asking you to visit, Sean," Alexandra said, her voice sharper now. "He is asking you to marry the caretaker's daughter. The daughter of your family's helper in Valdoria. Do you understand how that sounds to people here?" "I understand," Sean answered, keeping his voice low. The man beside him shifted in his seat, pretending not to listen. "But I made my choice. You know that. I'm yours, not hers. I'm just doing this to make him happy while he still can be happy." Alexandra did not answer right away. When she did, her voice was quieter, almost fragile. "Then don't make me regret trusting you. Don't be kind to her, Sean. Don't spend time alone with her. Don't let her think this is real." Sean let out a slow breath. "I won't." After the call ended, he stared at his phone for a long time. He could still picture Alexandra's face, the way she looked when they first met in New York three years ago. She was confident, elegant, the kind of woman who belonged in glass buildings and expensive restaurants. She was not just beautiful. She was Alexandra, a famous fashion designer in New York. Her designs were worn by models and celebrities, and her name was known in every high fashion magazine. She was powerful, successful, and independent. She had a career, a future, and a life that made sense. She was not someone who grew up sweeping the floors of someone else's mansion. That was the world he had built for himself abroad. Clean. Predictable. Far away from the obligations of his family name. But the world waiting for him in Valdoria was different. It was older. It was heavier. And it was ruled by one man who had never once broken a promise in his life. Don Ricardo Zobel. Sean's grandfather. The moment the plane touched down in Vesterra, the capital of Valdoria, Sean felt a familiar ache in his chest. It was not nostalgia. It was guilt. He had not visited in almost four years. He had made excuses, work, meetings, flights, everything he could think of. But when his mother called him two weeks ago, her voice breaking on the phone, he could no longer pretend. "Sean, your grandfather is sick," she had said. "He is asking for you. He says he wants to see you before... before he closes his eyes. Please, come home." And so he came home, to the country where his family had built everything. At the airport, his family's driver was waiting for him with a small sign that read "Mr. Sean Zobel." The driver bowed his head slightly when Sean approached, the way all the staff in their house always did. Respectful. Careful. As if Sean was something fragile and untouchable. "Good afternoon, Sir Sean," the driver said, taking his luggage without waiting for permission. "Don Ricardo is waiting for you. He is very happy you are here." Sean nodded. "Thank you, Miguel." The drive from Vesterra to their estate in the countryside of Valdoria took almost two hours. The roads were beautiful, lined with olive trees and old stone walls. The villages they passed were small and quiet, with white houses and red roofs. Valdoria had not changed. The sun was still bright, the air was still warm, and the smell of the countryside still felt like home. And then, the car stopped in front of the Zobel estate. It was still the same house from his childhood. White stone walls, tall pillars, a garden so green it looked like it belonged in a magazine. The house was quiet, but there were signs of life everywhere: the gardener trimming the bushes, the maid cleaning the front porch, and an old woman carrying fresh towels from the laundry room. But the moment Sean stepped out of the car, he felt something he had not expected. Someone was watching him. He turned his head toward the small house behind the main mansion. It was the staff quarters, a separate building where the caretakers lived. It had been there since before he was born. His grandfather had always said that the people who lived there were not just staff. They were family. They had taken care of the house, the garden, and the entire estate for decades. And standing near the doorway, with a basket of laundry in her arms, was a young woman. She was not looking at him directly, but Sean knew she had noticed him. Her posture straightened, her shoulders tensed, and she quickly lowered her gaze, as if she was afraid to be caught staring. Sean frowned slightly. There was something familiar about her, though he could not quite place it. She looked simple, almost too simple for someone who lived in a house like this. She was wearing an old white shirt, faded jeans, and her hair was tied in a low bun. But even in those plain clothes, there was no denying that she was beautiful. She was beautiful in a way that did not need makeup or designer clothes. Her skin was smooth and slightly tanned from the sun, glowing naturally under the light. Her face was soft and innocent, with a small nose, full lips, and eyes that were dark and expressive. Her long black hair was tied up, but a few loose strands fell around her face, making her look even more delicate. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, but instead of making her look dirty, it made her look real and human. She was not the kind of woman Alexandra would ever be friends with. She was not polished. She was not dressed in designer clothes. But there was something in her eyes, even from a distance, that made Sean pause. She looked calm. And steady. Like someone who had never needed to impress anyone. Like someone who was beautiful without even trying. Sean wanted to ask the driver who she was, but he already knew. Xyriene. He had heard the name so many times in the past few weeks that it felt like a word he had memorized without ever understanding it. Xyriene, the daughter of their caretaker in Valdoria. Xyriene, the girl his grandfather wanted him to marry. He had laughed when he first heard it. He thought it was a joke. Now, looking at her from across the garden, it no longer felt like a joke. Before he could say anything, the front door of the main house opened. His mother appeared, her eyes wide and bright with tears. "Sean!" she cried, rushing toward him and wrapping her arms around him tightly. "My son, you are finally home." Sean hugged her back, feeling her small body shake against his. "Mama, I'm here. I'm here now." "He has been asking for you every day," his mother whispered. "Every morning he asks, 'Is Sean here yet?' He is weak, but he is waiting for you. Come, come inside." She led him through the grand entrance, past the hallway with the old portraits, and into the living room where his grandfather lay on a hospital bed that had been placed near the window. Don Ricardo was not the strong man Sean remembered. He was thinner now, his skin paler, his hair completely white. There were wires and machines around him, but his eyes were still sharp. They were still the eyes of a man who had built an empire from nothing. When Don Ricardo saw Sean, his face lit up like a child's. "Sean," he said, his voice weak but full of emotion. "My grandson." Sean knelt beside the bed and took his grandfather's hand. It was cold and fragile, nothing like the strong hand that used to hold his when he was small. "Grandpa, I'm here. I came home to Valdoria." Don Ricardo smiled, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to cry. "Good. You are home. Now I can rest. Now I can see you before I go." "Don't say that," Sean said quickly. "You will get better." "Do not lie to an old man," Don Ricardo said, shaking his head slowly. "I know my time is almost up. That is why I called you. There is something I need to ask you, and I need you to promise me." Sean felt his stomach tighten. He knew what was coming. "Grandpa, I know what you are going to say. It's about Xyriene." Don Ricardo's eyes did not leave Sean's face. "She is a good girl. Her parents have served this family for twenty-five years in Valdoria. They are honest, loyal, and kind. I have seen her grow up, Sean. She is humble, hardworking, and she has a good heart. I want you to marry her. I want to see you settled with someone I can trust." Sean opened his mouth to argue, but his grandfather continued. "I know you have a life in New York. I know you have someone there. But that girl does not know our family. She does not know what it means to serve, to stay, to be loyal even when there is no money. Xyriene knows. She grew up here in Valdoria. She knows our house, our people, and our values." "Grandpa, you can't just arrange a marriage like this," Sean said, his voice low but firm. "It's not the old times anymore." "I am not asking you to love her today," Don Ricardo said, his grip on Sean's hand tightening slightly. "I am asking you to give her a chance. Marry her. Let her live here as your wife. If after one year you still do not love her, I will release you. I will sign anything. I will free you. But please, Sean. Let me see you married before I die. Let me see you with someone I trust." Sean looked at his mother's face. She was crying quietly. She did not say anything, but he knew she agreed with Don Ricardo. She had always trusted Xyriene's family. He looked back at his grandfather. The old man was waiting, his eyes pleading. Sean thought of Alexandra. He thought of the promise he made on the plane. He thought of the life he had built far away. And then he thought of the girl with the laundry basket, standing in the garden of Valdoria, looking at him like she was afraid he would ruin her life. He swallowed hard. "Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I will marry her, Grandpa. I promise." Don Ricardo closed his eyes, and for the first time in days, he smiled with peace. "Good," he whispered. "Then I can finally rest." Outside the room, Sean did not know that Xyriene was standing in the hallway, her hands trembling, her heart breaking as she heard every word. She had not chosen this. She had not asked for it. But in that moment, she knew her life would never be the same again.