Billionaire Contract Wife: Eight Months in His Cage
"Be my wife for eight months and I will save you from this hell. But if you fall in love with me? I will destroy you."
She wasn't sold for a price. She was lost in a bet.
A dark deal made in the shadows between a father who sold his own daughter without thinking twice and the man who runs the Blackwood empire. The CEO who doesn't just own money. He owns the city. He owns the law. He owns the men and their fates.
She was just a normal designer until she became his wife on paper. A wife to a man who knows no mercy. A man who never loses a deal. A man who refuses to let the woman carrying his name be weak.
Eight months. A marriage with no love. Strict rules. Forbidden feelings.
But what happens when the deal turns into a deep hunger? What happens when the contract becomes a cage? What happens when she finds out that running away from her father put her in the trap of a man who is a thousand times more dangerous?
Her father sold her in a bet. And her only escape was the man who owns the city.
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Chapter 5
Eleanor Vance POV
I froze in the corner of that bathroom the moment Major General Julian Blackwood's voice filled the room. I turned around slowly. My legs felt like lead. When I finally faced him, I met his deep, dark eyes. I felt like he wasn't just looking at me. He was looking straight into my soul.
I quickly wiped away the tears on my eyelashes. My fingers were shaking. I tried to think of something to say. There was no logical reason for me to be here in this fancy place, looking like a mess.
He pulled a dark pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He took one out with his index and middle fingers. His hands looked strong and serious. He slowly raised the cigarette to his lips. I waited for him to look away. I just wanted him to blink so I could breathe, but he didn't.
Even when he lit the lighter, he kept his eyes on me. The orange flame reflected in his dark pupils. He was intentionally keeping me trapped in his gaze. I felt like a bird in a cage, unable to fly away. He didn't say a single word.
My anxiety got worse. My eyes darted around. I could barely stand on my feet because of my father's threats. My breath became shallow and messy.
I was trapped. Outside this room, away from the protection of the Major General, were the debt collectors. They would find me sooner or later.
My eyes shimmered with new tears. I struggled not to cry in front of the man who was watching me like a silent painting. He blew out a cloud of smoke slowly. It swirled around him like a thick, dark mist.
"I am still waiting for an answer!"
Julian reminded me. He narrowed his eyes, studying my frozen face.
I looked at him, my mind spinning. I had no other choice. I had to tell him. Maybe he could help me. He was a Major General, after all.
I took a deep breath and tried to stay steady.
"Mr. Blackwood, please help me."
I whispered it. I was so helpless. I squeezed my hands into fists so hard that my knuckles turned white and the bones showed through my thin skin. I bit my lip in distress.
I looked up at his dark eyes again. The moment our eyes met, a shiver ran down my spine. It made it hard to breathe. He leaned his head back against the marble wall. He acted like he hadn't even heard my plea. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached.
"I am being followed. There are men looking for me."
He looked at me with cold indifference. Then he stood up straight, showing his tall, powerful height.
"And?"
"Can you help me get out of here without them seeing me?"
I begged him. I looked at the door. I was trembling. I could hear loud noises in the hotel hallways.
My heart dropped into my stomach. Many footsteps were coming our way. They sounded like war drums getting closer and closer. The sound of my racing heart was the only thing I could hear in the quiet room.
Doesn't he understand? Can't he see the terror in my eyes?
Finally, he decided to speak. He crossed his strong arms over his chest. He moved his tongue inside his mouth in a mysterious way.
"And what do I get in return?"
When his deep, masculine voice hit me, it felt heavy. My fingertips went numb. My brain stopped working. I blinked over and over. In return?! How could he ask for something from a girl who was about to drown?
"What could I possibly give you in return for your help?"
He kept looking between my eyes. His focus was so intense it stole my will. Without any hesitation, he spoke firmly.
"Be my wife for eight months. Then we will get a divorce."
My eyes went wide with shock. I felt the cold air dry out my throat. My mouth fell open. I couldn't believe it. What the hell did the Major General just say? Was he joking?
I ran my hand over my face. I gave a bitter, angry laugh.
"What??"
"My offer is on the table. I am waiting for your answer before those men walk in."
I gave a desperate, shaky smile.
"Don't joke, Mr. Blackwood. Joking doesn't suit you."
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip slowly. The movement made me swallow hard.
"Do I look like I am joking, little one?"
My smile disappeared. His serious face and confident eyes told me he meant every word. Marriage?! I stared at the marble floor. The light from the fancy chandeliers reflected on the ground. I couldn't speak. I hadn't even known him for an hour!
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what you heard. I will protect you from those men following you. In return, you will be my wife for a while. Then you will be free."
He said it simply, like he was giving a military order. He took confident steps toward me. He got so close that I had to hold my breath. I stepped back until my back hit the wall.
He kept coming until his shiny black shoes touched mine. He leaned his face down toward me. I felt the heat of his breath. It smelled like tobacco. It danced over my skin.
He moved his index finger under my chin slowly. His skin felt rough and warm. His cheek brushed against mine for a split second. It made my blood boil in my veins. Then he leaned toward my ear and whispered.
"Time is running out, Miss Vance. They will be inside at any moment."
I looked at him boldly, even though I was shaking.
"And who would you be to protect me from them?"
I saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips. Then he dropped the final blow near my ear.
"My woman."
I froze. That word hit me like an arrow through my chest. I felt my heart jump into my throat.
"Your woman?!"
He stepped back quietly. He rubbed the tip of his nose with his finger.
"That is if you agree, of course."
Suddenly, he blew a cloud of smoke right into my face. I looked away and coughed. The strong tobacco choked my lungs.
I was about to answer him. But then, the door burst open. A group of huge, brutal men rushed into the room. They ruined the quiet of The Savoy with their violence.
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8.7
Brought back from a humble life in Montana, Nora found out she was the true biological heiress of the ultra-wealthy Beaumont family.
But her biological parents didn't love her; they loved the fake daughter, Olivia, much more.
The moment she arrived, her father pushed an engagement termination agreement across his massive desk, forcing her to give up her wealthy fiancé so Olivia could have him.
Her mother looked at her with pure disdain.
"You should know your place. Don't reach for things that were never meant for you."
To break her spirit, they moved her into a cramped, dusty servant's room. They even ordered the butler to feed her cold kitchen scraps and gristle.
They wanted to humiliate her, to make her feel like a piece of trash rather than a daughter.
They expected her to cry, to beg, and to be absolutely crushed by the realization that her own flesh and blood saw her only as a liability to their reputation.
They thought the country girl would easily fold under their united front of cruelty.
But Nora felt no sting of betrayal, only the calculating clarity of a chess player.
She calmly signed the paper, pulled out the Beaumont family trust rules, and looked them dead in the eye.
"Since I am the legal heir, I demand what belongs to me. I'm taking the master bedroom."
7.3
Ella Hart was adopted into a wealthy household, but she never lived like a daughter.
While her adoptive mother, Nora, indulged in luxury and high society, Ella was treated like little more than a servant, forced to do the hardest chores and surviving on scraps of affection.
Until the day her biological family finally found her and brought a shocking revelation.
Years ago, the Hart family had arranged a marriage alliance with the Sterling family. The bride was meant to be either Ella... or her beloved sister, Piper.
That day, the impossibly handsome man arrived in worn-out clothes. He was instantly rejected by Piper.
To escape her old life, Ella agreed without hesitation, but she would never have imagined the man in front of her was the richest CEO in the city...
9.4
Ashley gave Nicolas ten years of love and five years of loyalty as his perfect housewife, only to be repaid with betrayal, humiliation, and death at the hands of him and his mistress.
After being reborn, she vowed to make them pay.
She tore apart the mistress, kicked her useless husband aside, and returned as the heiress of a top-tier family.
Surrounded by billions, luxury, and a parade of elite bachelors, Ashley became the woman everyone wanted-including a cold, powerful tycoon.
When Nicolas came begging for forgiveness, she smiled coldly. "Fuck off! My man is worth a hundred of you."
9.8
My four-year-old daughter was dying of leukemia, waiting desperately for a bone marrow transplant.
I begged my billionaire husband to just call the registry or visit her, but he claimed he was too busy with board meetings to care.
Until the hospital informed me that my daughter's life-saving bone marrow had been suddenly reallocated to another patient.
When I walked down the VIP hallway, I found my husband.
He wasn't at a board meeting. He was gently peeling an apple, playing the loving father to his widowed mistress's daughter.
When my pale, sick daughter called out for him, he instinctively stepped back in disgust.
I later discovered the mistress had bribed the hospital to swap the registry numbers, stealing my daughter's marrow for her own child.
When I demanded a divorce, my husband laughed in my face.
"You haven't worked a day in four years. You're a purchased asset. You don't get to walk away."
He threatened to freeze my accounts, assuming I would be starving on the streets and begging to come back.
His family and the mistress publicly mocked my background, waiting for me to be utterly humiliated.
They thought I was just a useless, penniless housewife who relied entirely on his last name to survive.
They didn't know I never needed a single cent of his money.
I packed my bags, took my daughter, and made a single phone call.
Three days later, at his family's elite banquet, my husband waited to see me beg.
Instead, the most powerful corporate magnate in North America walked right past him, bowed to me at a perfect ninety-degree angle, and spoke.
"Welcome back to the throne, Madam."
9.5
I married Clive Harrington, the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, under a strict contract that forbade any emotional burdens. When I needed a high-risk surgery to save my sight, I checked into the clinic alone, hiding the procedure from a husband who saw me as nothing more than a legal asset.
I thought I could handle the darkness in silence. But while I was blind and bandaged in my hospital bed, my biological mother called, screaming that if I didn't produce a Harrington heir by the end of the fiscal year, she would cut off the life-saving treatments for my disabled sister.
I was crawling on the cold hospital floor, desperately feeling for a cane I had dropped, when I touched a pair of expensive leather shoes. It was Clive. He was supposed to be in London closing a multi-million dollar deal, but there he was, watching his "contract wife" groveling in the dark like a beggar.
He didn't walk away in disgust. He carried me to a five-thousand-dollar-a-night VIP suite and sat by my bed, listening in chilling silence as another voicemail from my mother filled the room, calling me a "useless broodmare" who was only worth the trust fund disbursements my marriage secured.
I expected him to remind me of Clause 34B or hand me divorce papers now that I was "damaged goods." Instead, I felt his thumb brush a stray tear from my cheek, his presence shifting from a statue of ice into a predatory shield.
"I thought I was just currency to you," I whispered, my voice trembling behind the gauze. "Just an investment."
Clive didn't answer with words. He picked up his phone and called his head of legal with a single, terrifying command: "Kill the Douglas family’s credit lines. Every debt, every lien—trigger them all. If they want a war, I’ll give them a massacre."
As he leaned down to kiss my bandaged forehead, I realized the contract was dead. My husband wasn't protecting an asset anymore; he was hunting the people who had dared to touch what belonged to him.
9.4
Vera thought her life was over the moment she caught her fiancee cheating with his ex.
Broken and filled with pain, she is approached by a billionaire who presents a simple contract to her. Let's get married.
Sylas Gold is the man admired by the entire world. He is untouchable, powerful and incredibly controlled. Their marriage was supposed to be a contract. A performance. It was a way for both of them to win.
When Vera is kidnapped by a man who looks at her like she's already his, she learns the truth Sylas never told her, about his mafia empire, the blood, and the brother who was supposed to be gone.
Cassian Gold is the man who wants everything his brother has, including Vera.
Now caught between two brothers bound by hatred, power, and obsession, Vera must decide who to trust in a world where love is dangerous, loyalty is fragile, and desire might just be her downfall.