The Widowed CEO's Contract Bride
Love sometimes arrived when people least expected it, and often through the last person they would've imagined.
At forty years old, Daniel lived a life built around routine. His days revolved around managing the family company as its CEO while raising his three children alone. After losing his wife, grief slowly consumed him and turned him into a distant, guarded man over the years.
Meanwhile, Deanna lived an ordinary life. She worked part-time while studying at the School of the Arts, determined to achieve her dream of becoming an opera singer. With only one year left before graduation, her life suddenly changed when her friend Harry came to her in desperation and begged for help.
An old family tradition stood in Harry's way and prevented him from marrying his pregnant girlfriend. According to the family's rules, Daniel, his older brother, had to marry first.
In order to help Harry out of the situation, Daniel and Deanna agreed to fake a relationship and enter a marriage of convenience.
They were complete opposites, yet the attraction between them slowly became impossible to ignore. Daniel found the warmth and comfort that had long disappeared from his life, while Deanna experienced love again after suffering through a painful breakup.
For the first time in years, Daniel finally had a chance to rebuild the family he thought he'd lost forever.
However, not everyone wanted to see them together. Hidden motives, outside interference, and countless schemes constantly threatened to drive them apart.
Their journey wasn't easy. Aside from dealing with people determined to complicate their relationship, they also had to confront their own fears and insecurities. A fifteen-year age gap was never going to be simple to overcome. Still, the heart followed its own path, and love rarely listened to reason.
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Chapter 3
Daniel reached the apartment ahead of everyone else. He had only stepped inside a handful of times over the past few years, yet this visit felt different. Laura's presence showed in the smallest corners of the place, making it obvious the two of them had settled into living there together for a while.
Something about the situation unsettled him. The whole setup pulled him back to those awkward dinners his mother used to arrange, where he had to sit across from strangers and pretend interest. This time, though, no one pushed him into it. What weighed on him was different. For once, he wasn't the one doing the judging. He was the one being measured.
Then the doorbell broke the quiet, and Deanna arrived. The second she stepped inside, Daniel felt the shift. Whatever he expected, it didn't come close to this. Her smile carried across the room with ease, filling the space before she even spoke. Warmth seemed to follow her in, and it settled around everything. Soft waves of caramel-colored hair rested over her shoulders, framing her face as she moved.
Without thinking, Daniel pushed himself to his feet, like his body moved ahead of his thoughts. Deanna walked straight toward him and stopped in front of him, meeting his gaze without hesitation.
"Hi, I'm Deanna. You're Daniel, right?" she asked, holding out her hand with a steady smile.
"It's good to meet you, Deanna. Yeah, I'm Daniel. Harry's brother," he replied, taking her hand. "Glad you could make it."
At that moment, Laura came in with drinks and snacks in hand. She greeted Deanna with ease, and the two women fell into a natural exchange. Even so, a faint tension hovered in the room. Harry, as always, jumped in with his usual stream of chatter, trying to smooth things over before the silence could grow.
This meeting needed to go well. Everything depended on it. In a way, it did work out. Just not in the direction any of them expected.
"So, you're in the same program as Harry and Laura?" Daniel asked, choosing his words with care.
"We actually met in university," said Deanna.
Curiosity crept into Daniel's voice as he continued, "And what field did you choose?"
"I studies classical singing."
A low sound slipped from him. "Mmm..." That tone didn't sit right. It carried something sharp beneath it, and she caught it right away.
Harry's warning echoed in her head. He really did mean it.
She didn't let it slide. "What's that supposed to mean?" said Deanna.
"It doesn't mean anything."
"Come on, you didn't just say 'mmm' for no reason."
"It's nothing... I respect artists, that's all."
Before either of them could push further, Laura stepped in. "Why don't we start eating?" she said, trying to cut the tension before it grew.
Letting Daniel go unchecked would only make things worse. At the same time, Deanna wasn't the type to stay quiet. If they didn't step in, it would turn into something else fast. All they could do was hold things together for as long as they could.
For a while, the meal moved along without trouble. Light conversation filled the table, and the mood settled enough to seem normal.
Then that subject came up, and everything shifted again.
"We don't have much time, so we need to sort this out fast," said Harry. "You don't realize how much this means to us."
Gratitude showed on Laura's face as she spoke. "I really mean it. Thank you so much for doing this."
Daniel didn't ease into it. He went straight to the terms. "While we're married, I'll handle your university costs for that year. It's fair, since you'll be stepping away from your studies."
That caught her off guard. "Wait, stepping away? I'm not stopping school."
"You'll need to. Being married to someone still in university won't reflect well."
"I'm not taking your money."
"This isn't about the money. You're giving something up, and that deserves something in return."
"So that's how you see it. A sacrifice."
Across the table, Harry and Laura shared a look. The tension they tried to manage had slipped.
Her tone sharpened as she continued, "You are aware I have three kids, right?"
"I know."
"Then we need clear rules about how you deal with them."
Turning her head, she glanced at Harry. He met her eyes with a tired expression, already bracing himself for how the rest would go. Quietly, he hoped his friend could stay through the evening without calling everything off. Meanwhile, Daniel carried on like he was finalizing a deal, not stepping into a marriage.
"There are house rules you'll need to follow. They already work, and I'm not changing them."
"What kind of place is that? Sounds like a military camp."
"I expect you to adjust, even if you don't seem interested in what I'm saying."
"It's not that I don't care. It's just hard to take this seriously when you come across so rigid."
"Rigid isn't the word. It's discipline. And while we're at it, you might want to rethink your clothes," he said, motioning toward her knees.
"What is this, a convent?"
"Hey, let's just calm down—" Harry tried to intervene.
But it was already slipping out of control. Every rule Daniel laid out was met with resistance from Deanna. The polite tone he usually kept didn't hold this time.
"If we want this to be convincing, these are basic expectations. You're not exactly the kind of woman I usually choose."
"That's good to know. I get what you're trying to say, but you're talking like this is some business deal."
"I'll speak with my lawyer about a prenup tomorrow. This marriage may not be real, but it has to look real. Everything needs to be accounted for."
"So let me understand this. I follow your rules, I leave university, I study how to deal with your kids, and I even change how I dress. I get the prenup, but everything else?"
"Good. That means we understand each other."
"Understand each other? That's your list, not mine. I've got conditions too."
"Go ahead. Let's hear them."
"Since I can't continue university, I'll set aside one day each week for private singing lessons."
"That's fine. I'll pay for it."
"No need. I already work."
"You'll have to leave that job, so I'll take care of it."
Frustration rose in her chest, but Laura's anxious look held her back for a moment. Drawing in a breath, she steadied herself.
"Alright... if you're handing out money that easily, then I want my own space in your house. A room I can use as a music studio."
"That can be arranged. Anything else?"
"For now, that's enough."
Silence settled over the table, and no one seemed willing to meet another's eyes. Harry and Laura exchanged tense looks, both realizing they had been holding their breath the entire time.
Breaking the quiet, Daniel spoke again. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to our parents. We'll set up a family meeting so they can meet her properly. Laura, I assume you'll help her get used to everything."
"Yeah... alright," responded Harry, glancing at Deanna with quiet apology. In his head, he could already hear everything she'd say about Daniel once they were alone.
Nothing about the man made sense. He spoke without restraint, like everyone around him worked under him and had no choice but to comply.
She couldn't take it anymore. "I'm heading out," said Deanna.
Harry suggested, "I can book you a cab if you want."
Before she could answer, Daniel cut in, "That won't be necessary. I'll take her home."
"Daniel, that might not be the best idea."
"And why wouldn't it be? She'll be my wife soon. There's nothing strange about it. Come on."
Without waiting, he moved toward the door and paused there, expecting her to follow. With a quiet sigh, Deanna said her goodbyes and stepped out after him.
The drive passed in silence. Neither of them spoke as the car moved through the streets until they reached her building.
"So this is where you stay?"
"It is. Thanks for the ride. Goodnight."
That ended it. She stepped out and walked inside without looking back.
For a few moments, he remained in the car, his eyes fixed on the entrance. His thoughts drifted as he sat there.
If she didn't fall in line with what he expected, their story wouldn't hold. No one would buy it. She wasn't someone who bent easily. She spoke her mind, carried herself with ease, and had that warm smile that didn't match the situation at all.
What had he gotten himself into?
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8.1
Elinor's frail daughter, Cece, died in a sterile hospital room while waiting for her father to take her to Disney World.
But her billionaire husband, Derick, never showed up. At the exact moment Cece's heart monitor flatlined, the hospital TV broadcasted Derick affectionately holding the hand of his mistress and he has booked a clearance of the entire Disneyland to celebrate mistress's daughter's birthday!.
When Elinor confronted Derick with their daughter's ashes, he sneered and accused her of hiding the child just to get his attention. Elinor's heart was torn to shreds. How could a father be so blind and ruthless? Did Kamryn use his power to steal the very kidney that belonged to Cece? Why did her innocent baby have to die for their sick affair?
The suffocating grief inside Elinor finally crystallized into a sharp blade. She wiped the blood from her lips, canceled the simple divorce, and began her ruthless revenge.
9.7
For three years, I was the dutiful wife of billionaire Ervin Valdez.
On our third wedding anniversary, he came home smelling of his mistress's perfume, pinned me down, and brutally mocked me.
His mistress, Sylvia, had even sent me a fake ultrasound report to force me out of the picture.
In Ervin's eyes, I was just a vicious, calculating liar who used a pregnancy to trap him into marriage.
He didn't care that I had actually lost that baby, nor did he know the trauma of my gambling father selling me to a dark club where I was assaulted by a stranger.
When I finally handed him the signed divorce papers, giving up all assets, and left the penthouse with nothing but an old suitcase, he just sneered.
"She is playing a game of hard to get. She won't last three days before she comes crying back."
He froze all my bank accounts, let his mistress humiliate me in public, and waited coldly for me to starve and beg.
He thought my entire existence relied on his wealth, completely confident that I would inevitably surrender to his control.
But he was wrong.
I calmly opened my old laptop, bypassed the complex encryptions, and looked at the dozens of unread emails from top-tier global brands begging for my return.
I resurrected my hidden identity as the legendary jewelry designer "R," and walked straight into the top design firm in Manhattan.
"It is time to find myself again."
8.6
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.
7.4
Alaya woke up in the sterile hospital room to a devastating reality: her six-month-old baby was gone, lost in a horrific car crash.
But as the memories crashed into her, she realized she had been reborn. She was back three years before her ultimate death, back to the moment she remembered lying bleeding on the asphalt while her husband, Hardy, shielded his mistress from the freezing rain.
When Hardy finally showed up at the ward, he coldly dismissed the crash as a mere accident and immediately left to comfort his young lover. To make matters worse, Alaya secretly checked her medical files and found a terrifying detail: someone had intentionally slipped beta-blockers into her system, a lethal drug for her transplanted heart. And Hardy didn't care about her dead baby or her irreversible infertility. He only coldly confirmed with the doctor that her heart was still viable.
A horrifying suspicion made Alaya's blood run cold. Why was her husband so obsessed with protecting her transplanted heart while treating her like garbage? And why was his perfectly healthy mistress secretly racking up massive bills at an advanced cardiac hospital?
Realizing she was nothing but a vessel in a twisted, deadly game, Alaya didn't shed another tear.
She packed her belongings, left her flawless diamond wedding ring on the cold marble table, and vanished from their penthouse.
When Hardy finally tracked her down, she threw a thick stack of documents onto the table.
"Sign the divorce papers," she said, her eyes completely dead.
8.6
Aubree pushed Ezra down the grand staircase, crippling the only man who silently protected her.
She thought she was finally escaping his control to be with her true love, Foster Newton.
But she had no idea it was a vicious trap meticulously set by Newton and her sweet, innocent cousin, Brandi.
Once Ezra was driven out of New York in despair, Aubree's life became a living hell. Her father completely disowned her. Brandi smoothly took over her home and her millions in inheritance.
"You were just a stepping stone for us, Aubree."
That was the last thing Newton sneered before leaving her to die.
Lying on the freezing floor, her warm blood pooling in her palms, Aubree finally saw the horrifying truth. She had destroyed her own family and ruined the one man who genuinely cared for her, all for a pair of greedy parasites.
Endless regret and suffocating hatred consumed her fading consciousness. Why was she so blind? Why did she let them manipulate her into destroying her own life?
Then, her eyes snapped open.
A violent wave of dizziness hit her. She looked down at her pale, flawless hands. There were no deep cuts. There was no sticky blood.
She was back. She had miraculously returned to the exact night she pushed Ezra, just two hours before his private jet was scheduled to leave forever.
Hearing her father's furious roar outside her bedroom door, Aubree didn't cower.
She wiped the smeared makeup from her face, her eyes turning dead cold. This time, she was going to make Ezra stay, and she was going to send those leeches straight to hell.
9.0
I died on the cold delivery table, bleeding out while the heart monitor flatlined.
Through the blinding surgical lights, I heard my husband Damon's cold, final order to the doctors.
"The child is the priority."
He didn't care about my life. To him, I was just a vessel to produce an heir, a tool to fulfill his prenuptial clause and secure his billionaire empire.
While I took my last agonizing breath, he was already planning his future with his fragile, theatrical mistress, Jasmin.
In my past life, when he first brought her into our home claiming she was a helpless victim, I shattered.
I screamed, threw vases, and played the hysterical wife perfectly.
My desperate pleas for his affection only gave him the exact weapons he needed to ruin my reputation, isolate me, and ultimately force me onto that fatal delivery bed.
Until my very last moment, the suffocating pain in my chest wasn't just physical.
I couldn't understand how the man I loved could treat my death like a simple business transaction.
Why was my absolute devotion rewarded with a carefully calculated execution?
But then, my eyes snapped open.
I was sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, exactly three years before my death.
From downstairs, I heard Damon's voice echoing in the foyer, bringing Jasmin into our home for the very first time.
This time, the scream building in my chest turned to ice.
I didn't cry or throw a fit.
Instead, I calmly swallowed a secret birth control pill, smiled at his mistress, and dialed the most ruthless divorce lawyer in Manhattan.