Billionaire's Marriage Deal

Chloe's Point of View

A month had passed since I signed my life away to Jonathan Wells. Days bled into the next, a continuous circle of obligation and playacting. The original shock that our agreement had created faded out, leaving a cold, grey indifference in its wake. Even the most spurious display of civility now felt akin to a laborious task. My role was more defined now, the sacrifices I made were clearer, and the thought of it weighed upon me like a heavy, crushing burden. Every day, I did the tightrope balancing act between my own discomfort and keeping up the illusion of a perfect marriage, while the true cost of my decisions did not exactly dwell in the farther reaches of my cognition.

I stood in the master bedroom of our penthouse, staring out the window at the city lights extending below me. It was a spectacular view, yet I just couldn't muster up any enthusiasm. The lavishness, the overindulgence-it was all so hollow. Cold. Just like him.

Jonathan. My husband in name only.

I knew from the very start what this pact entailed. I kept telling myself it was only a contract, as simple as any business transaction. But with days passing into weeks, it was hard to recall anymore what I was doing this for.

He kept his word, of course. The medical bills for Emily were paid. I had the best doctors in the country monitoring her condition, but still, it wasn't enough. Her health was declining faster than any of us had anticipated. And that was the only thing keeping me here-Emily, my sweet, innocent sister who needed me. I would do anything to save her, even marry a man like Jonathan Wells.

But his ruthlessness was something beyond my anticipation.

From the outside, nothing had changed. We appeared in public together, played the part of the perfect couple: Jonathan, the cold-hearted billionaire, and me, his quiet, obedient wife. But behind closed doors, the distance between us was palpable.

Every time I saw him, he wore the same mask-expressionless, detached, like I was nothing more than a part of his business empire. He was colder now than he ever had been, and it was almost as if the contract between us gave him permission to shut off whatever semblance of humanity he still had. And how he spoke to me… always in that same icy tone, like I was one more inconvenience he had to deal with.

He hadn't touched me since the wedding day. Not that I expected him to, with terms as clear as: no emotions, no physical contact beyond what was necessary to keep up appearances. Sometimes, though, when he looked at me, I couldn't help but catch myself in the wonder of whether he regretted choosing me-if in his mind I was nothing but a burden he had to endure for the sake of his father's legacy.

I let my breath out in a sigh, leaning against the window as I let it weigh down on my shoulders. The man I worked for, the man I married, wasn't just cold; he was ruthless, and lately, seemed to feel he was testing just how much I could endure.

That very morning, he'd yelled at me in front of his employees for some minor mistake in the scheduling of a meeting. It wasn't even my fault, but Jonathan didn't care. He snapped at me in front of everyone; the words cutting like ice leaving his mouth. And I stood there, took it, and pretended it didn't affect me, that I wasn't humiliated, crushed under the weight of his impossible expectations.

I knew why he was doing it. Jonathan didn't want this marriage any more than I did. But while I was enduring it for Emily, he was enduring it for control. The company was his obsession and this marriage was nothing more than a necessary evil for him. A tool to keep his empire intact.

The door to the bedroom creaked open and I tensed up. Jonathan.

"Chloe," he said, his voice cold as ice. "We're going out tonight. There's an event. Be ready in an hour."

I turned to him, forcing myself to meet his gaze. He stood in the doorway, his suit impeccably tailored, not one hair out of place. He looked as he always did-perfect, unreachable.

"An event?" I asked, softer than I meant for. "What kind of event?"

"A charity gala," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if the question itself was an irritant. "It's for appearance's sake. We'll be seen together, and then we'll leave. Simple enough."

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'll be ready."

Without another word, he turned and left, the soft click of the door closing after him a stark contrast to the oppressive weight of the silence that followed him out.

I let my breath out slowly, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on me. A month into this marriage and it already felt like a lifetime. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up the charade, how much longer I could stand the coldness, the distance, the constant reminder that I was nothing other than a pawn in Jonathan's game.

But then I thought of Emily. The vision of her in that hospital bed rushed to my mind-the way she smiled upon my visitation, the pain etched in her eyes. She was fighting so hard, and I just couldn't let her down. Not now. Not ever.

Turning back to the window, my reflection stared back at me. I didn't know this woman anymore in that glass. But that wasn't important. What was important was survival through this marriage, putting up the pretenses, and seeing that Emily received the care she needed.

I'd put up with Jonathan's coldness, and the pain, because for Emily, I'd endure anything.