The billionaire contract husband

_Ryder's Brooklyn Apartments_

The Manhattan skyline towered over, casting a shadow over the small Brooklyn apartment where Ryder Wilder sat, his mind suffocating under the weight of their struggles. The faded walls seemed to close in around him, a constant reminder of their struggling life.

His sister, Luna Wilder, burst into the room, her bright pink hair a vivid contrast to the drab surroundings. "Ryder, what's going on? You've been holed up in here for days."

Ryder's gaze drifted toward the window, where the sounds of car horns and chatter filled the air. "Just thinking, Luna. Trying to figure out our next move."

Luna plopped down beside him, her eyes sparkling with determination. "We'll get through this, Ryder. We always do. But you can't carry this burden alone. Let me help."

Ryder's thoughts mixed with memories of their father's passing, the funeral expenses, the medical bills... the never-ending cycle of debt. He couldn't bear the thought of losing his mother too.

"I feel like we're drowning, Luna. Like the city's swallowing us whole."

Luna's grip on his shoulder tightened. "We won't let that happen, Ryder. We'll find a way to save Mum. We have to."

As they hugged, Ryder's mind raced with desperate thoughts. He would do anything to save his mother – anything. He couldn't lose her too.

In the silence, Luna's words echoed in his mind: "We'll figure something out, Ryder. We always do." But this time, he wondered if they could.

"Luna, what if we can't?" Ryder's voice cracked, the fear and uncertainty pouring out.

Luna's expression turned fierce. "Don't say that, Ryder. We can't give up. Mum's counting on us."

Just then, Ryder's phone buzzed on the table. He hesitated before picking it up, his heart racing with anticipation.

"Ryder, it's Dr. Lee from the hospital. I need to speak with you about your mother's condition."

Ryder's grip on the phone tightened, his mind bracing for the worst. "What is it, Doctor?"

"Ryder, your mother's cancer has progressed to stage IV pancreatic cancer. We need to act fast. She requires immediate surgery, but I'm afraid it's going to be expensive."

Ryder's heart sank. "How much?"

"The total cost will be around $200,000. I know it's a lot, but we can't delay. Every minute counts."

Ryder felt like he'd been stunned. "What are her chances if we don't get the surgery?"

Dr. Lee's voice was grim. "Without the surgery, her chances of survival are slim to none. The cancer will spread, and... Ryder, I don't want to sugarcoat it. It's a death sentence."

Ryder's vision blurred, his mind racing with desperation. He would do anything to save his mother. Anything.

_Bedford Avenue_

Ryder mind reeling, he stepped out onto the bustling streets of Brooklyn, specifically onto Bedford Avenue. He pulled out his phone and began dialing numbers, hoping his friends could offer some assistance.

As he walked and talked, a sleek black Bentley Continental GT pulled up beside him. The windows were tinted, but the passenger side window rolled down, revealing a stunning woman in her early fifties. Her hair was a rich, dark brown, wavy hair that fell down her back. Her eyes were a piercing green, with fine lines around them, a testament to her age and experience. She wore a tailored black dress, adorned with silver trim and embroidery, and on her neck was a glittering diamond necklace.

Her perfume wafted out of the window, a strong scent of Chanel No. 5 and something else, something more exotic. Ryder's eyes widened as he took in her luxurious appearance.

"Hello, handsome," she said, her voice deep and confident.

Ryder's phone still clutched in his hand, he hesitated for a moment before responding. "Hi."

The woman's gaze seemed to pierced into Ryder's soul, as if she knew all his secrets. "My name is Vivian Blackwood. And you are...?"

Ryder's eyes darted back to the phone, then to Vivian. "Ryder Wilder. Nice to meet you, Ms. Blackwood."

Vivian's smile was warm, inviting. "Please, call me Vivian. And Ryder, I couldn't help but notice you look like a man with a problem. Would you like to talk about it?"

Ryder's reluctance was evident, but something about Vivian's kind eyes put him at ease. "It's just... my mom's sick. She needs surgery, and I don't have the money."

Vivian's expression turned sympathetic. "Hop in, Ryder. Let's talk about it."

Ryder hesitated, unsure if he should get into a car with a stranger. But something about Vivian's warm smile put him at ease. He ended his call and slid into the passenger seat.

Inside the car, Vivian turned to him, her eyes sparkling with determination. "I can help you, Ryder. I have a job that needs doing, and I think you're just the man for it."

Ryder's eyes narrowed, unsure what to make of Vivian's offer. "What kind of job?"

Vivian's smile grew wider. "All in good time, Ryder. First, let's get to know each other a little better."

As the car glided through the streets of Brooklyn, Ryder found himself opening up to Vivian in ways he never thought possible. And Vivian, well, she seemed to be hiding secrets of her own.

_Vivian's Grand Mansion_

As they drove through the streets of Brooklyn, the scenery shifted from bustling city life to a more serene and affluent neighborhood. The Bentley Continental GT glided smoothly up a curved path, lined with perfectly trimmed bushes and tall trees, leading to a majestic mansion that seemed to glimmer in the fading light. The gate, a masterpiece of modern design, was adorned with intricate ironwork, and a hint of diamonds. It swung open with a gentle creak, revealing a secluded haven that seemed to belong in a fairy tale.

The man operating the gate, a tall, imposing figure with a stern expression, tipped his hat as Vivian's car approached. "Welcome home, Honey," he said, his voice deep, as he gazed at Vivian with a mixture of admiration and fear.

Vivian's eyes narrowed, her gaze flashing with annoyance. "Ah, Marcus, you're late again. I swear, I don't pay you to slack off."

Marcus' expression turned apologetic, but before he could respond, Vivian's hand flashed out, delivering a sharp slap to his cheek. "Don't bother making excuses, Marcus. Just do your job."

Ryder's eyes widened in astonishment as he watched the exchange. What kind of relationship did Vivian have with her employees? He thought to himself. He had never seen anyone speak to a staff member like that before, let alone physically strike them. He wondered if he had made a mistake getting involved with Vivian.

As they stepped out of the car, Ryder couldn't help but stare at the opulence surrounding him. The mansion towered above, its exterior a masterpiece of modern architecture, with floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek lines, and a pool that seemed to merge seamlessly into the sky.

Marcus, still rubbing his cheek, approached Vivian, his eyes cast downward. "I'll take your coat, Honey."

Vivian handed him her coat, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Thank you, Marcus. See that our guest is comfortable. And Marcus?"

"Yes, Honey?"

"Don't think this little incident will be forgotten. I expect better from my staff."

Just then, Alex rushed out of the house, carrying a red carpet. "Welcome, my Queen!" he exclaimed, unrolling the carpet at Vivian's feet.

Vivian's eyes flashed with anger as she gazed at the red carpet. She raised her hand, and with a swift motion, slapped him across the face. "Can't you see I'm wearing a black dress?" she spat. "Why can't you get a black carpet to match?"

Ryder's eyes widened in astonishment as he watched the exchange. He couldn't believe the way Vivian was treating her staff. They were all calling her "Honey" and "Queen", but she was treating them like dirt.

Why does she feel the need to belittle them? Ryder thought to himself. And why are they putting up with it?

As Vivian stepped onto the red carpet, her expression turned icy. "Get a black carpet, now," she commanded.

Alex rushed away, rubbing his cheek, as Vivian swept into the house. Ryder followed, his overwelmed with thoughts. What kind of person was Vivian? And why was she treating her staff like this? He couldn't shake the feeling that he had entered a strange and twisted world, one where the rules of normal society didn't apply.

As they entered the mansion, Vivian led Ryder to a luxurious sitting room, adorned with velvet sofas in a rich hue, marble tables with golden details, and chandeliers that sparkled. The room was filled with the sweet scent of fresh flowers, and the classical music played in the background, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance.

Vivian gestured for Ryder to sit, and he complied, taking in the opulence surrounding him. She pressed a small bell on the coffee table, and a maid, Elena, in her early 60s, with silver hair styled in a bobbed hair and a kind face, appeared promptly.

"Bring the juice pitcher, Elena," Vivian commanded.

Elena nodded and brought the pitcher, but instead of pouring the juice herself, Vivian took it from her and poured it into a glass. However, as she was about to hand it to Ryder, she hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Not this glass, Elena. Can't your brain tell you to use the crystal glass with the gold trim for our guest?"

Elena's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly exchanged the glass, spilling a little juice on the tablecloth in the process. Vivian rolled her eyes and handed the glass to Ryder, her voice dripping with sophistication. "Here, Ryder. Freshly squeezed orange juice."

As Ryder took the glass, Vivian called out, "Maria, come clean this up immediately!" Maria, a younger maid with a nervous expression, rushed in to clean the spill.

Vivian turned to Ryder, her eyes shining with amusement, but a hint of hesitation flashed across her face before she began to speak. "Now, let's discuss... the arrangement, Ryder." She paused, her voice trailing off for a moment before she continued. "You'll be my contract husband, Ryder. In exchange for your mother's surgery and other... benefits, you'll agree to obey my every command, including whenever I need you in the bedroom."

Ryder's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing with the implications. What had he gotten himself into? He set the glass down, his hand trembling slightly. "What do you mean, contract husband?" he asked, his voice cautious.