A CONTRACT WIFE FOR THE BILLIONAIRE CEO

SCARLETT The air thickened, turning into something heavy and sludge-like that I couldn’t quite pull into my lungs. My fingers curled around the edge of the porcelain sink, gripping so hard the ceramic bit into my palms, but I welcomed the sting. It was the only thing grounded me against the white-hot fire roaring in my chest. My lungs felt like they’d shriveled into raisins, and my head was a mess of ringing sirens as I hung onto my sanity by a single, fraying thread. Just breathe. Come on, Scarlett. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I tried to anchor my mind, to find some kind of North Star in the middle of the static. If I didn’t get this under control right now, I’d lose my job, and honestly? Probably my life too. I splashed my face with freezing water, letting the sharp shock of the stream gush against my skin. I did it again. And again. Slowly, the ringing faded. The air felt a little less like lead. I gasped for oxygen, greedily pulling it in as I leaned against the mirror. My reflection was staring back, and she looked pathetic. I was a total mess. My chestnut hair was a bird's nest, and my eyes were swollen, underlined by dark, bruised-looking bags that told the story of every hour of sleep I’d missed. My pale skin was glistening under the harsh fluorescent light, and my uniform looked like a tent on my thinning frame. I looked like I was fading away. I let out a ragged sigh and splashed my face one last time. I had more important things to worry about than a panic attack—which, let’s be real, was just my body’s way of screaming that it had reached its limit. I knew that. I wasn't stupid. But I had bills to pay. I had debts piling up like a mountain, and slacking off wasn't an option. Resting? Resting was a luxury for people who weren't drowning. It was a luxury I couldn't afford. Not today. Not ever. Slowly, I lowered my gaze and pressed a hand over my stomach, right where the dull ache lived. “Please don't fail me now,” I whispered to my only surviving kidney. “Just hold on a little longer.” My workload was suicidal, I knew that, but what choice did I have? Hospital bills don't just vanish because you're tired, and my landlord certainly didn't accept 'exhaustion' as a currency for rent. I grabbed a rough paper towel, wiped the counter, and forced myself to walk back out into the chaos of the busy café. “Scarlett,” the manager called out the second he spotted me. “You’re still here? Your shift ended fifteen minutes ago.” I knew it had. But fifteen minutes of pay wasn't going to save me. Don't do it! Don't! You'll literally kill yourself! I ignored the internal warning blaring in my head and stepped closer to him, trying to look way more energized than I felt. “I was thinking...” I tugged at the hem of my red “Spring Café” top, my heart thumping. “If I could work extra shifts... I kinda need the money. Like, bad.” “No.” He shattered the hope before it could even fully form. “Look, as a businessman, that means more profit for me. But as a human—” He shook his head and stroked his beard, looking at me with way too much pity. “I can't do it. You’re already working two shifts, dear. It’s too much for one person. You’re going to collapse.” He was right, but being right didn't pay for my meds. “I’m not complaining. I promise, I can do it. I'm fine.” “Indeed you aren't complaining, but your body is doing the talking for you. Don’t think I don’t see how much you’re sweating or how easily you run out of breath. You need a break, Scarlett. A real one.” It wasn't weakness. It was just my body's annoying way of reminding me I was flirting with death every single day. “But I—” “No buts! Go home. Go and rest. I mean it,” he added, his tone turning stern. “Fine.” The look in his eyes told me he wasn't going to budge. “I’ll change and leave.” “Good.” He turned his focus back to a customer who was already starting to nag about the foam on their latte. Typical. I hurried back to the tiny changing room, swapped the scratchy uniform for my black tank top, an oversized white shirt, and my favorite worn-out jeans. I twisted my hair into a messy bun that probably looked terrible and headed out into the night. It was 7:25 PM. Before I could actually call it a day, I had one more stop to make: Leon’s home. I needed to sort things out. I couldn't bear to see him in pain anymore. Leon was everything to me. He and Teresa were my family—the only people who made me feel like I wasn't just a ghost drifting through a machine. They were the ones who made this hellhole of a world worth living in. The cold night breeze slapped my face, and for once, I didn't mind. I soaked in the comfort of the chill as I walked toward the taxi stand. “Taxi!” An old, beat-up car pulled up. “Collins Estate.” I slumped into the seat, feeling every muscle in my body protest the movement. Leon was going to be absolutely pissed that I was here, but I had to talk to his parents. He was an only son, the supposed heir to an empire, but he just wasn't CEO material. He was a creator. He wanted to see the world, to let his creativity lead him. His parents? They didn't get it. They threw him out into the cold without a second thought the moment he defied them. Now, he was living with me in my shabby, cramped apartment. He deserved the best. He deserved the world, especially after everything he’d been through. He’d been so sick, suffering for months in that hospital bed, only for his own blood to cast him out the second he was cured. It was sick. I swallowed hard and leaned my head back against the cracked leather seat. My back was screaming from hours of standing, my legs were thrumming with pain, and my fingers felt numb. But this was the mission. I could rest when he was safe. “Ma’am, I can’t go any further,” the driver said, pulling over near the massive, imposing black gates. “Don’t worry.” I climbed out, paid the fare with the last of my cash, and headed toward the entrance. The guards hesitated at first, but they’d seen me here enough times with Leon to know my face. They knew we were dating, even if the 'Master' of the house wasn't home. My sneakers clicked softly against the expensive tiles as I approached the mansion. It was a massive, intimidating structure coated in white and cream. No matter how many times I came here, I couldn't stop staring. The sitting room alone was bigger than my entire apartment building, every corner filled with something expensive and dazzling. “Good evening, Miss Scarlett.” A maid bowed, a small, practiced smile on her lips. “Good evening. I was hoping to see Mrs. Collins. It’s urgent. I won’t take much of her time, I promise.” “Mrs. Collins is busy right now. She should be out in about fifteen minutes.” I nodded, my heart starting to hammer against my ribs again. There was nothing to be afraid of, right? She was Leon’s mother. Even though she looked at me like I was something she stepped in and clearly hated the sight of me, she loved Leon. That was the one thing we had in common. “In the meantime, you can wait with the Master.” Confusion pricked at the back of my brain. “Master? Who?” “Master Leon.” My eyes went wide. Leon was here? I thought he’d been completely disowned. Had his mother finally caved? Had she let him back into the fold? If that was true, why wouldn't he tell me? Why keep me in the dark? I shook the thought off as a wave of excitement bubbled in my chest. Finally! Things were looking up. “Sure. Where is he?” “In his room.” I smiled so wide it actually hurt my face and hurried toward the grand staircase. I knew the way by heart; I’d spent weeks staying with him throughout his recovery. I stepped into the long, silent hallway, heading for the door at the very end. As I got closer, the air felt weirdly damp. A chill ran down my spine, making the hair on my arms stand up. Something was off. I could feel it in my very bones. I glanced around, but everything looked perfect, just like always. My breathing slowed. I hated this feeling. I couldn't let anxiety ruin this moment. I shoved the dread deep down and reached for the gold knob. I pulled the door open, ready to surprise him. “Fuck... harder!” The moan spilled from his lips, echoing through the room and hitting me like a physical blow. I froze. My breath hitched, stuck in my throat. My heart just... stopped. There, right in front of me, was Leon—naked, sweating, and completely lost in the woman beneath him. As she arched her back, her hair fell away from her face, and I saw her. Teresa. My best friend. I felt the last bit of my soul shrivel up and die.