Contract Marriage With My Secret Zillionaire Husband

Dahlia pushed against the heavy oak doors of the Ballard Estate. The central air conditioning blasted her face the second the gap widened. The sudden freeze made her shiver. She dug her fingernails into the cheap canvas strap of her tote bag.

The crystal chandelier in the foyer blinded her. She squinted, her retinas burning as they tried to adjust to the aggressive luxury. It was a stark contrast to the dim, flickering bulb in her cramped apartment.

Heel clicks echoed against the marble floor. Eveline Ballard descended the spiral staircase. She held a martini glass in her right hand.

Eveline stopped dead in the center of the hallway. She positioned her body to completely block the path to the living room.

Her eyes dragged up and down Dahlia's faded trench coat. A smirk pulled at the corner of Eveline's mouth.

"I heard about the Mcdonald family auction last week," Eveline said. Her voice was light, floating in the cold air. "It must be devastating to watch your entire life sold off to the highest bidder."

A sharp pain pricked the center of Dahlia's chest. She forced her spine to snap straight. She locked her eyes onto Eveline's.

Dahlia's gaze drifted down. She noticed the clasp on Eveline's limited-edition Cartier bracelet. It was fastened backward.

The metal dug awkwardly into Eveline's skin. It was a glaring sign of someone trying too hard to wear something they weren't used to. The insecurity of new money trying to intimidate old money.

Eveline took a step forward. The smell of strong gin and expensive perfume invaded Dahlia's space.

"Don't even think about eyeing the Ballard family trust fund," Eveline whispered. Her grip on the martini glass tightened. "You are a charity case now."

Dahlia let out a short, flat laugh.

"I have zero interest in anyone's charity," Dahlia said. Her voice was steady. The air around them seemed to shift, the pressure entirely on Eveline now.

Footsteps sounded from the second floor. Cindi Matthews appeared at the top of the stairs. She lifted the hem of her silk dress as she walked down.

Eveline's face transformed instantly. The malicious sneer vanished. A sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her lips.

"Cindi, you look beautiful tonight," Eveline called out at her stepmother.

Dahlia's stomach churned. The bile rose in her throat at the fake display. She swallowed hard, forcing the nausea down for her mother's sake.

Acie Ballard walked down right behind Cindi. He wrapped a thick arm around her waist. He looked every bit the protective patriarch.

Acie walked straight toward Dahlia, his heavy footsteps muffled by the expensive rug. He stopped just short of Eveline's line of sight, shielding his next move from his malicious daughter. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto Dahlia's face. He reached slowly into the inner pocket of his tailored suit jacket. His fingers emerged holding a crisp, pre-written check.

"Take this," Acie said. His voice dropped to a low, tight murmur meant only for her and Cindi's ears. "It is enough to settle the immediate creditors. Just don't make a scene and embarrass us."

Cindi clasped her hands together. Her eyes pleaded with Dahlia. She wanted her daughter to take the easy way out.

Eveline's knuckles turned completely white around the stem of her glass.

Dahlia stared at the slip of paper. A wave of disgust washed over her. She remembered how his corporate maneuvers had cornered her father. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced her breathing to remain slow and steady. She raised her hand, her movements deliberate. She pressed her fingertips against the cold paper of the check and pushed it gently back toward Acie's chest.

"Thank you, Acie," Dahlia said. "But my digital content creation is generating revenue. I can support myself."

Acie's face flushed. He awkwardly slid the check back into his pocket. Cindi let out a heavy sigh that sounded like a physical weight dropping to the floor.

Eveline's shoulders dropped. The tension left her body. A flash of pure triumph crossed her eyes.

The butler stepped into the hallway. He announced that the French dinner was served.

They moved to the long dining room. The clinking of silver forks against bone china echoed off the high ceiling.

Eveline leaned forward over her plate.

"So, Dahlia," Eveline said loudly. "How is Kirt Rose doing? Is the wedding still on?"

Dahlia's hand jerked. The serrated edge of her steak knife scraped hard against the porcelain plate. The screeching sound made everyone flinch.

Dahlia took a slow breath. She let the oxygen fill her tight lungs. She chewed her food, swallowed, and set her knife down.

"That is none of your business," Dahlia said.

She pushed her chair back. The wood scraped against the rug. She excused herself to the bathroom to fix her makeup.

She locked the bathroom door behind her. The silence was immediate.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. A text message glared from the screen. It was from Vince, the Wall Street debt collector.

Dahlia turned on the faucet. She splashed freezing water onto her face. The shock of the cold cleared her mind.

She dried her face with a heavy towel. She typed her reply.

"I will meet you downtown at nine tomorrow morning."