FATED HEART:a contract marriage

Reyes Couture The strong smell of disinfectant filled the private hospital room, mixing with the faint beeping of the heart monitor. Isabella Reyes stood tall, dressed in a silk cream blouse and black office pants, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she walked towards the bed. Her grandmother, Doña Felicia, looked so weak, her gray hair spread over the white pillow. She had raised Isabella single-handedly after her parents passed away. She was Isabella’s only family. “Grandma…” Isabella whispered. “The doctors said you should rest. Don’t stress yourself, please.” Doña Felicia held her hand tightly. “Bella I don’t need medicine. I need peace of mind.” She coughed weakly. “I want to see you married before I die.” Isabella’s chest tightened. For years, her grandmother had tried to set her up with successful men, but Isabella refused them all. She had her empire Reyes Couture, Manila’s top fashion house. She didn’t need a man to complete her life. “Grandma, please,” Isabella tried to smile. “Stop spouting nonsense. No one is dying. You will live long enough to see me walk the Paris runway with my designs. Marriage isn’t….” “No, Bella,” her grandmother interrupted firmly. “Promise me. Promise me you will bring a man to me as your husband. Only then will I feel better and stronger.” Isabella swallowed hard, her throat dry. “Fine,” she said, her tone low but firm. “If it makes you happy, I will get married. But you must promise me one thing you must stay healthy and strong.” Later that night, as Isabella left the hospital, her driver opened the door of her sleek black Rolls Royce. She slid inside and stared blankly out the window. “Oh my God” she muttered to herself. “Grandma, how will I even find someone? I don’t have a boyfriend, not even a crush! Gosh… I’m doomed . Monteverde Wines The glass walls of the 35th–floor office reflected the city lights of Manila. Adrian Monteverde sat behind his massive desk, a glass of red wine in his hand, his expression unreadable cold as always. His father, Emilio, stood in front of him with arms crossed. “Adrian, you’re thirty seven years old. Yet you have no wife, no heir to represent you. When will you get married?” “Father, I’ve told you already. I don’t need a wife. I don’t need a woman in my life.” “Adrian,” Emilio’s voice hardened. “If you don’t get married soon, I will announce to the world that you are gay.” “What?” Adrian’s voice sharpened. “I am not gay.” “But that’s what people believe,” Emilio shot back. “No one has ever seen you with a woman before. How will you produce an heir?” “If I want an heir, I can get a woman to carry my child,” Adrian replied coldly. “Once she gives birth, I’ll take the baby. I don’t need a wife for that.” “You’re only trying to escape your duty,” Emilio said firmly. “Never. You must get married. You need a wife by your side.” Adrian’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “And you? You had a wife, Father. Where did it end? You and Mother divorced.” Emilio’s jaw tightened, but he ignored the remark. “I won’t repeat myself. If you don’t get married soon, I will tell the whole world you are gay.” Adrian leaned back in his chair, unfazed. “And if I am, what difference does it make to the business?” “Don’t play games with me, Adrian,” his father snapped. “You know this country. People will talk. Investors will panic. Everything we’ve built will crumble.” “So what do you want me to do?” Adrian asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Take a random woman from the street and marry her?” “I don’t care how you do it,” Emilio said, his tone final. “You are the CEO. But without a wife, you are incomplete. People are already questioning you. The board is restless. Get married, or I will take matters into my own hands.” With that, Emilio turned and stormed out of the office. The room fell into silence, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioner. Adrian raised the glass of wine to his lips and took another sip, his expression dark. He hated being cornered. He hated being told what to do. But deep down, he knew one thing: if he wanted to protect his empire, he would need a wife. Isabella left the hospital that night with her chest heavy. Her grandmother’s words still echoed in her mind Frustrated and stressed, she told the driver to go home then she drove herself to a rooftop bar . She needed a drink, something to cool off her head. Inside the bar, Adrian Monteverde was already there, seated alone with a glass of wine.The bartender accidentally mixed up their drinks. Adrian’s cold voice cut through the air. “That’s mine.” Isabella looked at him sharply, her patience already thin. “Oh? I didn’t see your name written on it.”Adrian raised a brow. “Do you even know who I am?” She scoffed, downing the glass in one go. “I don’t give a damn who you are. Get lost.” She pushed past him and stormed out, her heels clicking angrily against the floor. Still thinking about her grandmother’s words, Isabella was a little tipsy but fully aware of her surroundings. As she approached her car in the parking area, a man suddenly appeared, blocking her path. “Pretty lady, where are you going? Stay with me a little” he said, reaching for her arm. “Get away from me!” Isabella snapped, trying to push him off. But the man didn’t let go, his grip tightening. Before she could scream, a shadow fell over them. “She’s with me.” Adrian’s deep, cold voice made the man pause. The stranger glared, “And who are you to her?” Adrian’s eyes darkened, his aura so sharp it made the air heavy. “Her boyfriend.” He said the word flatly, but his tone carried a warning. When the man still hesitated, Adrian stepped closer. “Leave. Or I’ll make sure you regret staying another second.” The man paled at his icy expression and bolted into the night. Isabella pulled her hand free, glaring at Adrian. “I didn’t need your help.” Adrian slid his hands into his pockets, his expression nonchalant. “I didn’t do it to help you. I just didn’t want a scene in front of my car.” “Unbelievable,” Isabella muttered, rolling her eyes. He smirked faintly. “By the way, the drink you stole? That was mine.” “No one asked you. You’re just too proud,” she shot back. He scoffed softly, amused by her fire. Then his gaze sharpened. “What is a young lady like you doing in a bar at this hour anyway?” “Why do you care?” she said, folding her arms. But after a pause, the alcohol loosened her tongue. “Fine. If you must know I’m looking for a husband. My grandmother won’t stop pestering me.” Adrian blinked, surprised by her honesty. A slow, cold smile tugged at his lips. “Interesting. Because I’m also looking for a wife.” She froze, narrowing her eyes. “What?” “Don’t misunderstand,” he said smoothly. “I don’t need love. Just a deal. You need a husband. I need a wife. Why don’t we help each other?” she opened her mouth to refuse but no words came out