My Contract Husband Is A Cursed Billionaire

The cold night air hit Chloe like a physical blow the moment she stepped outside. It sliced through her thin indoor clothes, raising goosebumps on her skin. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she grabbed onto the cold stone of a decorative lion flanking the doorway to keep from collapsing.

She had no phone, no money, no plan. Just the desperate, primal urge to get away.

As she stood there, shivering and trying to force her legs to move, a sleek black Bentley glided to a silent stop at the curb.

Before she could process its arrival, the rear passenger door was shoved open from the inside. A man in an impeccably tailored suit stumbled out, falling to his knees on the manicured lawn.

He curled into himself, his body wracked with violent convulsions, a strangled gasp caught in his throat. He was in agony.

Chloe's first instinct was to shrink back into the shadows. She had enough problems. But then she felt it. A foul, cloying energy rolling off the man in waves. It was the unmistakable stench of a curse, a particularly nasty one she had only read about in the Order's most forbidden texts.

The man on the ground was Aurelio Finley. He had come to the Sharp mansion to confirm the final details of his impending marriage, but the curse that had plagued him for years had chosen this exact moment to flare with unprecedented violence.

It felt like a thousand invisible needles were piercing his organs, setting him on fire from the inside out.

Chloe hesitated. Helping him would consume the last dregs of the life force she had just sealed within herself. It could kill her.

But as she focused, she sensed something else within him, beneath the layers of dark magic. An incredibly pure, potent life source, being devoured by the curse.

A reckless, desperate idea sparked in her mind. A forbidden ritual. If she could temporarily sever the curse's hold on him, she might be able to... borrow a sliver of his untainted energy to stabilize her own. It was a dangerous symbiosis, a magical gamble.

She didn't hesitate any longer.

Dragging her weak body forward, she approached him. Through the haze of his torment, Aurelio forced his eyes open. He saw a blurry figure, a woman with pale skin and eyes that seemed to burn in the darkness.

Chloe didn't speak. She dipped a finger into the blood still drying on her other hand and swiftly drew a small, sharp symbol on his forehead. Then, she pressed her palm flat against his chest, right over his heart. The ancient words of the rite fell from her lips in a low, urgent whisper.

It was a life-transference ritual, creating a temporary bridge between two souls.

Aurelio gasped. A cool, powerful energy flooded his body, pushing back the searing pain, encasing the curse in a shell of ice. The agony subsided, and the relentless drain on his life stopped.

At the same time, Chloe carefully siphoned a tiny, pure thread of his vitality into herself. It was like a drop of clean water in a poisoned well, instantly soothing the ragged, torn edges of her spirit.

The ritual was complete. Aurelio's breathing evened out, the torment receding.

But Chloe had pushed herself past her limit. The world tilted, the darkness at the edge of her vision swallowing everything. With a final, shuddering breath, she collapsed, falling directly into his arms.

Aurelio, now clear-headed, looked down in shock at the woman in his lap. She was pale, unconscious, with a smear of blood on her lips. The same woman who had just performed a miracle. For years, the world's best doctors had been useless against his affliction, yet this stranger had quelled it in seconds.

He recognized the house she had just stumbled out of. The Sharp mansion. This had to be his fiancée. Seraphina Sharp. And yet, she looked nothing like the woman in the file's photograph. Was the intelligence flawed, or was something else going on here?

He gently lifted Chloe into his arms. She was terrifyingly light, as if she were made of nothing but air and secrets.

He carried her to the Bentley and carefully laid her across the backseat.

"To the nearest hospital," he commanded his driver, his voice steady despite the storm of questions in his mind.

As the car pulled away, he studied the face of the unconscious woman who had saved him. He didn't know who she really was, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

He was not letting her go.

He would wait for her to wake. And then, he would get his answers.