Contracted Wife: 90-Day Marriage

02. Contract Offer

The bell rang softly as Celina entered the café. The café was quite busy that afternoon, but not too noisy—suitable for the important meeting she was having.

She paused momentarily at the threshold, scanning the entire room. Unfamiliar faces met her gaze, until finally, from the farthest table, someone raised a hand.

Their eyes met briefly. Just briefly, but enough to take Celina back to memories of the past.

It was indeed him.

The grown-up version of the man who once played a significant role in her life. Prince Dalton.

His face had changed a bit—sharper, more defined, more ... captivating.

Age had shaped him with almost perfect precision, adding a maturity he once lacked. However, his eyes still held the same look: calculating, calm, and hard to penetrate.

Oddly enough, Celina felt as if she were looking at a stranger—someone she once knew so well, but now felt distant, almost untouchable.

She took a deep breath, then confidently walked toward the table.

“Hi, sorry for being late. I got stuck in traffic outside,” she greeted, keeping her tone calm.

“No problem. Please sit down.”

Celina sat. Her chair hadn't even had a chance to warm up when the man's words suddenly came out—just like that.

“Marry me. For just three months.”

She wasn't really surprised. More accurately, she had no reason to be surprised.

Because if not for something like this, why would an ex-lover who had long disappeared suddenly reappear?

If you asked whether her heart skipped a beat because of the proposal? No. Not at all.

Those feelings—that once ran wild in her heart—had long died. Sucked away by time. Buried with memories she never wanted to unearth again.

“Isn't that your job, after all? Being a contract wife for men in need.”

Celina's eyebrow arched briefly. Then slowly lowered, replaced by a thin smile that felt more like irony than friendliness.

“How did you— I mean, how do you know what I do for a living?”

“Your last ex-husband. He's my colleague. He said you're very professional. A woman I can pay for a short marriage. Without involving feelings.”

Celina leaned back against her chair. Just then, a waitress came bringing two drinks. Her gaze was directed at the glass placed in front of her before she thanked softly.

“Stephlla latte is still your favorite drink, right?” asked Prince.

Celina looked at the glass again for a few seconds, then shook her head. Without much talk, she swapped her drink with Prince's iced americano.

“Sweet flavors do indulge the taste buds, but the bitter ones are more realistic,” she said casually. “I prefer americano now. And, thank you for the drink.”

Prince remained silent. He observed every movement of Celina—the way she sipped, set the glass back down, and adjusted the strands of hair that fell on her forehead. Everything about her seemed different. But somehow, she seemed more intriguing than he remembered.

"So?" Prince asked again. "Will you accept my offer? Whatever payment you ask for, I don't mind."

Celina leaned slightly forward. Her gaze was direct, sharp, but not intimidating.

"Why?" she asked. "All my clients always explain their motives before marrying me. Wouldn't it be easier to work together if I knew why?"

Prince paused for a moment. His breath was heavy, as if weighing something complicated.

"I... want to reconcile with my ex-wife. But since I've already divorced her twice and our divorce is public knowledge, we have to be careful. Family reputation and media attention are also considerations. So, I need a distraction—someone I can present. Someone who appears legitimate as a wife... even if only for three months."

Celina raised an eyebrow—as if questioning why it had to be so complicated just to reconcile?

But she chose to remain silent. It wasn't her business either. No need to dig deeper than necessary.

For Celina, that explanation was sufficient. Moreover, the offer was too tempting to refuse.

Three months is a short time—it would surely fly by. And the promised payment could be the final payout before she truly retires from her profession as a contract wife, then starts a new life abroad.

So, with an outstretched hand and a formal smile typical of client interactions, Celina nodded firmly.

"Alright," she said. "Let's go through with... the marriage."

It's fine if her retirement plans change slightly.

After all, she still has time to manage her citizenship transfer while doing her last job. And once this contract is over—she would leave, never looking back.

Prince then accepted her outstretched hand. His expression was somewhat relieved, though still inscrutable.

"A smart choice, Celina. Let's discuss the contract details... and your fee, at our next meeting."

***

Prince Dalton, thirty-two years old, the youngest child of the Dalton family—one of the most renowned conglomerates in Indonesia. He serves as a director at a famous instant noodle manufacturing company. Handsome, standing at 185 centimeters, his life seems perfect: successful, established, and born into a respected family. But in matters of love, he is unlucky.

How could he not be considered unlucky, eight months ago his wife's affair scandal was exposed. Numerous media outlets covered it, and many reporters pursued Prince just to get his response. The scandal was quite shocking, causing the company and the reputation of both families to be shaken. The Dalton family's shares plummeted, as did the good name of his wife's family.

To manage the situation, Prince's father—Prince Miguel Dalton—ordered him to cover up the chaos with power. Meanwhile, his mother—Alicia Kusumaningrum Handriatmadja—firmly asked him to immediately divorce his wife.

Having no other choice, Prince went through with it. And as usual, he did it perfectly.

Now, as the situation has stabilized and the public has accepted the fact that he is a widower, another reality surfaced that he couldn't manage. Despite being betrayed, he couldn't truly hate his ex-wife. Their two-year marriage indeed ended in betrayal, but there was still some love left for Stephanie Peterson—the ex-wife.

Then when the woman came, begging for a second chance and wanting to reconcile, Prince couldn't refuse her. Love can indeed make one foolish, forgiving the unforgivable. And when Stephanie knelt, asking for a second chance, Prince relented.

However, it wasn't that easy to trust again. Prince set a condition: if she wanted to reconcile, she must wait until he married another woman. Not merely as "punishment," but also as a test. He wanted to see if jealousy could prove that Stephanie's regret was genuine.

Then, upon hearing that his business associate once had a contract marriage with a professional woman, Prince became interested. He immediately sought information.

And that led him to the name Celina Collins.

A woman from his past, whom he never expected to be in this line of work.

Their meeting at the café ended with an agreement: Celina agreed to be his contract wife for three months.

Prince felt a bit relieved. It was that easy to use her services. He thought it would be more complicated, considering Celina had asked why he needed a temporary marriage.

And now, he went home with one matter settled.

In the next meeting, he would inform Celina of what she needed to do while being his wife—and what she would receive from Prince.

The plan was well-prepared, and Prince was confident everything would proceed as intended. Regardless of what happened in the past, he believed that neither he nor Celina would mix old feelings into professional matters.

The story between them was over. Only memories remained. There was no room for nostalgia.

Prince now loved someone else, and Celina was reputed to be very professional in her work.

“Boss, where are we heading next?”

The driver's question brought Prince out of his reverie. His gaze, which was initially directed out the window, now turned forward.

“To the main Dalton house. There's something I need to discuss with Mom.”

“Alright,” the driver nodded obediently, then refocused on driving and gradually increased the vehicle's speed.

Twenty minutes later, they entered the grounds of the Dalton family residence. As soon as the door was opened, Prince immediately got out of the car.

Buttoning his jacket that had been open, he climbed a few steps. The door opened from the inside before he could push it.

Two servants bowed in greeting. Prince only responded with a nod, while asking, “Where is Mom now?”

“In the greenhouse, Young Master,” one of the servants replied politely.

Prince immediately headed in the indicated direction. As he entered the greenhouse, the fresh scent of various flowers greeted him.

Various types of plants were neatly arranged—he didn't know their names, nor was he interested in knowing. His only goal was to meet and talk with Mom.

“Mi, can I have a moment?” he asked, when they were just a few steps apart.

In front of him, Mom was facing away—busy trimming the yellowing leaves.

“There's something I want to say.”

Mrs. Alicia Kusumaningrum Handriatmadja turned around spontaneously. Her smile widened as she put down the scissors and removed her gardening gloves.

“Just got here, dear?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Come sit over there,” she said, pointing to a long bench in the corner of the greenhouse. “Mom will listen to what you have to say.”

Prince complied and sat down obediently. After they both sat down, Mrs. Alicia focused her attention on her youngest son, while Prince took a slow breath. He needed a moment before finally saying,

“I've found a candidate for a contract wife.”

Mrs. Alicia's expression changed instantly. Her smile disappeared, replaced by a flat look that hinted at restrained anger.

“Are you really serious about reconciling with the woman who cheated on you, Prince?”

“Yes, Mom. I still love Stephanie.”

“Mom never thought love could make Mom's youngest child so foolish.”

Prince didn't respond; even though those words were hurtful, he didn't deny them. Because it was true—he was foolish because of love.

“Even if we oppose it, you'll still do it?”

“Yes,” Prince replied, without a hint of hesitation.

“Truly a slave to love,” Mrs. Alicia muttered, smiling wryly and shaking her head slowly.

Then, she spoke a cold but meaningful sentence: “Do as you wish, Prince. Mom won't speak any further, because I know you never really want to listen to Mom.”