Mr.CEO's Contract Wife

# POV Sheira “Dad, please! Just lend me some money so I can take Mom to the hospital,” I pleaded, kneeling in the courtyard, prostrating myself before the man who should have supported me—my father. I wasn't asking for myself; it was for Mom, who was sick and needed help. I had no money, and all I could do was appeal to Dad's compassion. In front of me stood three people, their mocking gazes cutting deep: my biological father, my stepmother, and my stepbrother. “Your mother who proudly refused to be my wife and left our home—now she’s sick, and you come here hoping for my mercy,” Dad rejected me outright, dismissing my tears without a second thought. “Dad, I didn’t ask for a handout; I just needed to borrow some money. I promise to pay you back,” I insisted earnestly. “Sheira, what do you have that would justify a loan? The amount you’re asking for is significant,” Mira, the woman who shattered my family, chimed in, subtly urging my father to deny me. I shot her a look filled with disdain. “Why don’t you just leave now?” Mira’s words were harsh as she pulled Dad toward the house, leaving me to return home empty-handed. The rain began to fall, mirroring my sorrow, as if the heavens mourned my predicament. My once joyful life had slowly crumbled due to the presence of a third party in my family. “Sheira,” came Arsen’s voice, unmistakably the son of Mira. I refused to acknowledge him, knowing he might only want to belittle me. Instead, I limped away, trying to stave off the cold that seeped into my bones. “I want to help you!” Arsen shouted, reigniting a flicker of hope in my heart. I turned around to look at him, a smile breaking through my despair. “But it’s not free; you’ll need to work with me tonight,” he added. “That’s fine, as long as it means I can get money for Mom,” I replied impulsively. “Alright, go home and get ready. I’ll pick you up at 9 PM,” Arsen instructed, and I nodded obediently. With that, I left my father’s house—the home I once shared with Mom—now under Mira’s control. When I arrived at my rental house, I looked at the modest structure that had become my home after Mom decided to leave Dad. I never envisioned life would change so drastically; the happiness I once felt had been obliterated by Mira’s interference. “Sheira, is that you?” Mom called from her room as I opened the door. I quickly wiped my tears and went to her. She was sick, and I had no money to take her for treatment. I hoped that the job Arsen had offered would be enough to help us. “Yes, Mom, it’s me,” I said, forcing a smile. I didn’t want her to know what had happened at Dad’s house; I feared it would only worsen her condition. “Sheira, you’re soaking wet,” she said, concern etched on her face. Even so, I maintained a cheerful façade. “Yes, I was out for a bit. It started raining just as I was on my way home, so I hurried to avoid waiting too long,” I explained. “Where were you? Were you at your dad’s?” Mom guessed correctly, but I shook my head vigorously. “No, I was just looking for a job, Mom,” I lied, hoping to shield her from the truth. The last thing I wanted was for her to be hurt by what Dad had done to me. “Did you find a job?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with hope. I nodded, smiling as I told her I would start working tonight, though I omitted the details about who had offered me the job. “I’m sorry, Mom, for not telling you the whole truth. If you knew it was Arsen who offered it to me, you wouldn’t approve. But I really need this opportunity; it’s vital to help you get better,” I thought silently. As the clock struck 9 PM, I was ready, waiting for Arsen outside my house. I wouldn’t allow him inside; I needed to protect the little peace we had. He had texted me to wear a dress because we were going to a party, though I was entirely unclear about what work awaited me. “Am I going to be a servant? Why do I need to dress up?” In the midst of my confusion, I spotted Arsen’s car approaching and stopped in front of the house. “Why are you waiting out here? You could have waited inside,” Arsen remarked. “You know my mom wouldn’t approve if she found out I’m working with you,” I shot back, and he merely nodded. “Let’s go,” he said. During the drive, I couldn’t shake the questions swirling in my mind. Where was he taking me, and what kind of job awaited me? Tired of being in the dark, I finally broke the silence, even though I was reluctant to engage him in conversation. “Where are we going?” I asked cautiously. “My friend is having a birthday party,” Arsen replied briefly. “And what’s my role at this party?” “You’ll be pretending to be my girlfriend. All my friends are bringing dates, and I’ll need you to accompany me. Don’t worry. I’ll pay well for your time,” he said nonchalantly, leaving me in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding. You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” I protested, but I felt powerless to refuse. “Why not? It’s easy; you just need to act like my girlfriend for one night, and you’ll earn money. You need it for your mother’s medical expenses, right?” His words hit me hard, and ultimately, I felt I had no choice but to accept. Thinking about Mom made me relent; I needed funds for her treatment. Throwing this opportunity away meant losing the chance to help her. “Alright, Sheira, just remember—it’s all temporary, just a facade,” I reassured myself. We finally arrived at our destination. As I glanced around, unease washed over me, and I felt compelled to voice my concerns. “Why are we at a hotel?” I asked, distaste evident in my expression. “Because that’s where the party is. Don’t worry, we’re not checking in unless you insist,” Arsen replied, eyeing me in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. “Why are you just standing there? Let’s go in,” he said, tugging my hand. Reluctantly, I followed him inside. The ballroom was lively, and Arsen seamlessly mingled with his friends, holding my hand and introducing me as his girlfriend. “Sheira, try to relax. Just enjoy the party,” he whispered in my ear, and despite my discomfort, I couldn’t help but feel unsettled by his possessive grip around my waist. “Arsen, could you please let go of my waist?” I whispered, annoyance creeping into my tone. “No, remember, you’re my pretend girlfriend today,” Arsen replied, and all I could do was sigh, frustrated.