The Dark Heir

Contract Marriage

Celline only realised the strangeness of it that afternoon.

She sat in her room, the window slightly open. The wind carried the unfamiliar scent of the garden—this house still felt like a temporary stop, not a home.

Her phone vibrated.

Mum.

Celline stared at the screen longer than usual before answering.

"Yes, Mum?"

Teresa's voice sounded warm. Too warm. "Have you eaten?"

Celline frowned. "Yes. This afternoon."

"Good."

A short pause. "Is Brandon treating you well?"

Celline glanced at the door, as if Brandon could hear her.

"He's... normal."

"Normal is enough," Teresa said quickly. "You have to be comfortable."

Must.

The word stabbed Celline. "Mum," she said softly, "why did you suddenly agree?"

Teresa chuckled softly. "Agree to what?"

"My marriage," replied Celline. "You never asked if I was ready."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Because I believe in you," Teresa finally said. "And I know Brandon is not just any man."

Celline clutched her mobile phone. "You also said my happiness comes first."

"And that's true."

"But..." Celline hesitated. "Why does Mum seem fine with losing Maxel?"

The answer came too quickly. "Maxel hasn't been Mum's priority for a long time."

Celline closed her eyes. That wasn't an answer. It was a distraction. "Mum," she said softly, "this isn't just about me, is it?"

Teresa took a breath, then said softly, almost sweetly. "You think too much. Just focus on your future."

The call ended.

Celline slowly put down her phone. Something was wrong.

That night, she met Brandon in the hallway.

Brandon had just come out of the study, his sleeves rolled up, looking tired. He stopped when he saw Celline.

"Aren't you asleep yet?"

Celline shook her head. "I want to ask you something."

"Ask."

"Is this... your plan?"

He looked at her straight in the eye. "This marriage."

Brandon paused for a split second. Too brief to be called hesitation—just enough to be noticed. "Partly," he answered honestly.

"Which part?"

"The part that makes everyone stop acting recklessly," he said.

Celline swallowed. "Including Mum?"

Brandon looked at her for a long time. "Especially your mother."

Celline's heart beat faster. "You know something," she said softly.

"I know enough not to trust anyone completely," Brandon replied. "Including myself."

Celline laughed nervously. "That's not reassuring."

"I don't intend to reassure you," Brandon said. "I want you to be aware."

Aware of what? The question hung in the air.

"If you want to back out," Brandon continued softly, "I won't stop you."

Celline looked at him. "And Mum?"

"She'll be angry," Brandon replied flatly. "And that will answer all your questions."

Celline was silent for a long time. "I don't know who's using me," she said finally.

Brandon took half a step closer. He didn't touch her.

"That's why I'm offering you a contract," he said. "Not a promise."

Celline nodded slowly. In her head, Teresa's words echoed: Just focus on your future.

**

The wedding was brief. There was no red carpet. No grand hall. No socialite invitations or official coverage. Just a small room in a business hotel in the city centre, one registrar, two witnesses, and the Hartwell family lawyer sitting stiffly with a thick folder on his lap.

Celline wore a simple ivory dress. Her hair was neatly pinned up, her face pale but calm. Brandon stood beside her in a black suit without excessive accessories. There were no exaggerated smiles. No tears of joy.

Just signatures. Just a legal bond.

"With that, the marriage is declared valid." The sentence echoed briefly—and ended just like that.

No kiss. Brandon just nodded briefly. Celline exhaled deeply, as if she had just come out of a stuffy room. They were officially husband and wife.

And that was it.

The first news appeared two hours later.

Not from the official Hartwell Corporation account. Not from a family statement. But from a well-known aggressive business gossip portal.

HARTWELL'S HEIR MARRIES HIS STEP-SISTER?

Celline was sitting in the back seat of the car when her phone started vibrating incessantly. Messages. Missed calls. Social media notifications suddenly flooding in.

She opened a link. A blurry photo. A slanted angle. Brandon and herself leaving the hotel. Brandon's face expressionless. Hers downcast.

A large headline. Capital letters. Provocative.

Celline closed the screen with trembling hands. "It's started," she muttered.

Brandon sat next to her, staring ahead. "Yes."

"You knew this would leak," said Celline.

"I leaked it," Brandon replied calmly.

Celline turned sharply. "What?"

Brandon finally looked at her. There was no regret there. "I needed the world to know."

"This way?" Celline's voice rose. "They call me your stepsister."

"I know."

"And you let them?"

"I wanted them to," Brandon replied flatly. "I want to see who reacts the fastest."

Celline was speechless. "This is crazy."

"This is a war of opinion," said Brandon. "And I need a map."

The car stopped at a red light. From a distance, two cameras could be seen on the pavement. A reporter was running towards them.

"The media has caught wind of this," said the driver quietly.

The green light came on. The car drove off.

The next morning, the front pages of the national media were filled with one topic.

Hartwell.

Not about innovation. Not about new acquisitions. But about morals.

"How could Brandon Hartwell marry his own stepsister?"

"Is this a loophole in the law or a manipulation of power?"

"A family scandal or a business strategy?"

Morning talk shows discussed it. Panels of legal experts debated. Family psychologists spoke up. Netizens were divided into two camps—those who condemned it and those who were curious.

On the stock exchange, red screens began to appear. Hartwell Corporation's shares fell three per cent before lunchtime. Five per cent before the market closed.

An emergency meeting is held. Brandon sits in the main meeting room, his face cold. Shareholders and directors speak in turn—their panic is unmistakable.

"Our reputation is shaken."

"Investors are questioning the stability of our leadership."

"This has a direct impact."

Brandon leaned back. "What's the percentage drop?"

"Seven point two."

"Not yet double digits," Brandon replied calmly. "It's still manageable."

"Did you leak this news?" James Chen asked sharply.

Brandon looked at him. "I didn't confirm anything."

"That's not an answer."

"It's a legal answer," Brandon replied.

Silence.

"I'll handle the media," Brandon continued. "You guys focus on calming the investors."

"How?" snapped one of the directors. "This is not a minor issue!"

“Precisely because it’s big, we can’t panic,” said Brandon. “If we’re defensive, the market will sense fear.”

“And if we stay silent?”

“The market will get bored,” Brandon replied coldly. “A scandal without developments will die on its own.

Not everyone agreed. But no one dared to argue too strongly. Brandon was the majority owner.

And that was an unchangeable fact.

Meanwhile, at the Hartwell residence, the atmosphere was much more tense.

Teresa stood in front of the television, staring at the screen without blinking. Her face was hard. Her lips were thin.

"He did it on purpose," she muttered.

Maxel sat on the sofa, reading the news on his tablet. His hands were clenched. "He's destroying the family name."

Teresa turned sharply. "This isn't your family."

"He's my wife's son!" Maxel snapped.

"And I raised him," Teresa replied coldly.

Maxel stood up. "Aren't you worried about Celline?"

Teresa was silent for a moment. Then she said softly, "I'm worried she's starting to think for herself." That was what made Teresa anxious. Not the media. Not the shares.

But Celline, who was now on Brandon's side—no longer entirely on hers. She was anxious that Celline would turn to Brandon's side. And that would destroy her dream of controlling the giant Hartwell Corporation business.

Outside the Hartwell Corporation building, a crowd of reporters waited.

Brandon came out with a steady gait. Celline walked beside him. Their hands were not clasped. They kept their distance. But the cameras captured every second.

"Brandon! Is it true that you married your own half-sister?"

"Is this just a strategy to secure power?"

"Celline, were you forced?"

The camera flashes were blinding. Celline held her breath.

Brandon stopped. He turned to face the reporters.

"I did not marry my biological sister," he said calmly. "And I have not broken any laws."

"What about ethics?"

"Ethics differ in every culture," Brandon replied. "The law is the only universal standard."

Cheers mixed with jeers. Brandon walked on.

Celline remained silent. In the car, her hands trembled.

That night, the financial reports came in. The decline in shares was officially recorded. The Hartwell name was discussed not as a symbol of success, but as a controversy.

Celline sat in her room, reading public comments.

Some called her an opportunist. Some called her a victim. Some called her a seductress. She closed her laptop with trembling hands.

Behind the door, Brandon stood. "You're not okay," he said.

Celline looked at him. "You knew this would happen."

"Yes."

"And you did it anyway."

"Because Teresa won't move unless the world forces her to," Brandon replied. "I need her to panic."

Celline laughed bitterly. "And I'm the price that has to be paid."

Brandon approached her. "I won't let you fall alone."

"Promise?" Celline asked softly.

"Contract," Brandon replied.

"Why are you doing this?" Celline asked.