MY CONTRACT HUSBAND IS A RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE

The chandeliers above us cost more than my mother's hospital bill. I stood beside Alexander Virel in a black silk gown, my hand resting on his arm like I belonged here. Like I wasn't shaking inside. Flash cameras. Whispers. The entire elite of Manila was staring at us. "Who is she?" "Is that Alexander Virel's wife?" "She looks familiar... wasn't her mother a janitor in Virel Corp?" I smiled. Perfect. Practiced. The smile I learned in 3 months of being Mrs. Virel. Alexander leaned down, his voice low and cold in my ear. "Smile wider. The investors are watching." "Yes, Mr. Virel." He frowned. "Alexander. In public, you call me Alexander." Right. My husband. On paper only. Three months ago I was desperate. My mother was dying in ICU and I had 200 pesos to my name. Today I'm wearing a 2 million peso dress and standing next to the most feared CEO in the country. All because of one contract. Marry him for 6 months. Play the perfect wife. In exchange: My mother gets the best doctors. I get 3 million pesos. No love. No feelings. Just business. A reporter stepped forward. "Mr. and Mrs. Virel! How did you two meet?" Alexander's arm tightened around my waist. His gray eyes were empty when he looked at me. "She applied for a job at my company." He lied smoothly. "I was impressed." I almost laughed. Impressed? He blackmailed me. "And the wedding was so sudden!" another reporter added. "When you find the right partner," Alexander said, looking straight at the cameras, "you don't wait." The word 'partner' tasted bitter on my tongue. Because the truth is... I'm not his partner. I'm his secret. His contract. His 6-month deal. And in 3 months, this all ends. But as he pulled me closer for the photos, I wondered... Why does his touch feel less like ice... and more like fire?