The Billionaire’s Accidental Wife

The tray shook in my hands. Not because the drinks were heavy. But because the man at Table 7 looked exactly like the man I married... and forgot. One year ago. Vegas. Drunk. Dumb. I woke up with a ring, a hangover, and zero memory of a husband. I told myself it never happened. But now Damien Cole was here. In my restaurant. In a 3-piece suit that cost more than my rent. And his cold grey eyes were locked on me like he’d been waiting 365 days. He stood up. The whole room went quiet. "Miss." His voice was deep. Dangerous. "A word." I pasted on my best waitress smile. "Can I get you anything else, sir?" His lips twitched. Not a smile. A warning. "Yes. You can start by explaining why my wife is serving tables." He slid an envelope across the table. Inside, Our marriage certificate. `Ava Thompson + Damien Cole. Las Vegas, 28 July 2025.` My blood froze. "I... I don’t—" He leaned in. Smelled like power and expensive cologne. "Mrs. Cole," he whispered, so only I could hear. "It’s time we made our marriage real." --- The lips twitched. Not a smile. A warning. "Yes. You can start by explaining why my wife is serving tables." He slid an envelope across the table. Inside, Our marriage certificate. `Ava Thompson and Damien Cole. Las Vegas, 28 July 2025.` My blood froze. "I... I don't—" He leaned in. Smelled like power and expensive cologne. "Mrs. Cole," he whispered, so only I could hear. "It's time we made our marriage real." I dropped the tray. The clatter of plates made the entire diner go silent. Customers stared. My manager stared. And Damien Cole? He just looked amused. Like this was entertainment. Three weeks ago I was drunk in Vegas. Three weeks ago I woke up with a ring on my finger and no memory. I told myself it was fake. That I'd gotten it annulled. That "Damien Cole" was just some random guy with a common name. I was wrong. He pulled out a chair and sat down like he owned the place. Which, given the look of his $10,000 suit, he probably could. "You're fired," he said casually to my manager. "My wife doesn't work here anymore." "Excuse me?" I found my voice. "You don't get to—" "I do," he cut me off. Dark eyes locked on mine. "Because you signed a contract, Ava. A marriage contract. With a 2 billion dollar clause if you break it." My knees went weak. 2 billion dollars. That was more money than my entire family would make in 10 lifetimes. "So here's how this works," Damien continued, tapping the certificate. "You come home with me. We play happy couple for 6 months. Then we get a divorce and you walk away a millionaire." I stared at him. At the ring he was now wearing too. Matching mine. "And if I say no?" His smile was sharp. Dangerous. "Then I enforce the clause. And take everything your family owns." The diner was still silent. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. "Mrs. Cole," he stood up and held out his hand. "Shall we?"