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Contract Marriage With My Secret Zillionaire Husband Novel Cover

Contract Marriage With My Secret Zillionaire Husband

My family went bankrupt overnight, leaving me to face a mountain of predatory debt. Instead of standing by my side, my billionaire fiancé's mother threw a five-million-dollar check on the marble table, demanding I take the money and disappear from her son's life forever. Meanwhile, my former social circle mocked my downfall. They secretly took photos of me meeting with ruthless loan sharks, waiting for me to come crawling back to beg for charity. I didn't give them the satisfaction. I legally took on my father's massive debt, threw the check back, and ruthlessly dumped my fiancé. To stop my heartbroken mother from worrying, I lied and told her I had already found a new, reliable boyfriend. But the lie was a ticking time bomb. My malicious rival even forced her way into my cramped apartment, demanding to meet this mysterious man, laughing that he must live in a dumpster. I was suffocating under the pressure. I had nothing, and I had no idea how I was supposed to magically produce a husband to get these toxic people off my back. Until a dying stranger I helped in the park made a final wish. His grandson—my cold, aloof high school upperclassman, Caleb Barnes—handed me a watertight prenuptial agreement at the hospital. "Marry me," Caleb said flatly. "I get to give my grandfather peace. You get a shield against your family." I picked up the pen and signed my name.
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Chapter 2

The bitter smell of espresso hung heavy in the Seattle downtown coffee shop.

Dahlia pushed the glass door open. Her eyes scanned the crowded room. She spotted the man in the black suit sitting in the corner booth. A thick scar ran down the side of his neck.

Vince slammed a massive stack of legal documents onto the marble table. The impact shook the surface.

Dark coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug. Several hot drops splattered onto the crisp white cuff of Dahlia's shirt.

Dahlia did not flinch. She pulled a paper napkin from the dispenser and dabbed at the wet stain. Her eyes locked onto the bold print of the debt transfer agreement.

Vince let out a harsh laugh.

"You are a bankrupt little girl," Vince said. "What makes you think you can guarantee this kind of money?"

Dahlia reached into her bag. She pulled out her iPad and unlocked the screen. She slid it across the table.

"Look at the data," Dahlia said.

The screen showed the steady revenue streams and explosive growth curves of her social media accounts.

Vince swiped his thick finger across the glass. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. He cleared his throat loudly to cover his surprise.

He tapped his knuckles against the table.

"I need a twenty percent excess late fee clause," Vince demanded. "For my risk."

Dahlia leaned forward. Her spine was rigid. She stared at the scratched-out numbers, a memory flashing in her mind. She remembered sitting in her father's mahogany office, listening to his corporate lawyer explain predatory lending limits just before the bankruptcy hit. The legal jargon had stuck with her. She took a slow, steadying breath, letting the confidence of her old life seep back into her posture.

"I recall the advice my father's corporate lawyer gave us," Dahlia stated. "I am pretty sure a rate that high is completely illegal here. You can try to enforce that clause, but my attorney will have a field day with it in court, and you get absolutely nothing."

Vince stared at her. The air between them felt thick enough to choke on.

He let out a heavy breath. He grabbed a red pen and violently scratched out the late fee clause.

Dahlia pulled the cap off her Montblanc pen. She pressed the nib against the signature line. She signed her name with fast, sharp strokes.

The crushing weight of her father's debt was now legally hers. Strangely, the tight knot in her stomach unraveled. She felt a bizarre sense of relief.

Vince shoved the papers into his leather briefcase.

"You have guts, kid," Vince muttered.

Dahlia paid for her coffee and walked out the door. The midday sun hit her face. It burned her red, sleep-deprived eyes.

Across the busy street, Eveline walked out of a high-end boutique. Several Chanel shopping bags hung from her wrists.

Eveline looked past the crawling traffic. Her eyes locked onto the corner. She saw Dahlia standing next to Vince.

Eveline knew exactly who Vince was. Everyone in her circle knew the ruthless distressed-asset buyer.

A cruel smile stretched across Eveline's face. She pictured Dahlia being hunted down by loan sharks.

Eveline dropped her bags. She pulled out her iPhone and zoomed the camera lens all the way in. She snapped a photo of Dahlia's back as she stood next to the scarred man.

Dahlia felt a prickle on the back of her neck. She turned her head toward the street. A massive double-decker bus roared past, blocking her view of the boutique.

Eveline ducked behind a window display. She opened her group chat and attached the photo.

Her phone screen lit up instantly. Notifications flooded in. Her friends sent strings of laughing emojis, mocking Dahlia's incoming jail time.

Eveline locked her phone. She was certain Dahlia would come crawling to the Rose family to beg for a bailout.

Dahlia pulled her coat tighter against the autumn wind. She walked down the concrete stairs into the subway station.

She swiped her card at the turnstile. Her phone started ringing. The sound was sharp and piercing.

She pulled it out of her pocket. The name "Mrs. Rose" flashed on the screen.

Dahlia's heart dropped into her stomach. Her blood ran cold.

She took a deep breath. The roar of the incoming train filled the station. She pressed the green answer button. Her jaw set hard.

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