The Contract Wife’s Secret

Everyone in New York knows my marriage to Brandy Sterling is a sham.

It’s a role I’ve played for three whole years.

For three years, the heir to the Sterling Group has drifted between exclusive parties and supermodels, never once setting foot in our Manhattan penthouse.

His scandals are relentless. Day after day, he's photographed leaving a different hotel with a new woman on his arm.

The next day, those photos would be plastered across the headlines of every gossip rag.

He never cared about my feelings, because in his eyes, I had stolen the place that rightfully belonged to his first love.

My friends all pity me, whispering behind my back that I’m nothing more than a pathetic, decorative wife.

I never correct them. I just smile, manage his latest PR crisis, and play the part of the perfect Mrs. Sterling.

But what they don't know is that our marriage is nothing more than a business arrangement. I signed a secret prenuptial agreement with his father, Arthur.

Brandy needed a wife to secure his inheritance, and I needed the Sterling family's top-tier medical resources.

Once the contract expires, I can get a divorce, receive a massive trust fund, and use it to pay for the medical care of my beloved Stephen, who lies in a deep coma.

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1

Everyone knows that Brandy was forced by his family to marry me.

That's why he hates me. He hates me for stealing the position that should have belonged to his unforgettable first love.

After his first love, Emily, abandoned him for a new life in Europe, Brandy went completely off the rails. To get him to settle down, his family strong-armed him into marrying me.

After the wedding, I dutifully played my part as the perfect wife.

No matter how late he stumbled home or whose perfume clung to his suit, I never said a word.

Of course, he almost never came home at all.

When the tabloids would catch him leaving a hotel with some famous starlet and the photos hit the headlines the next day, Brandy's mother, Eleanor, would summon me. Her voice dripping with disdain, she accused me of being unable to keep my husband in line and shaming the family name.

Every single time, Brandy would just stand there, a mocking glint in his eyes, swirling the whiskey in his glass as if he were watching an amusing little play unfold.

My friends all said I was pitiful and that Brandy was a first-class bastard.

But deep down, I felt no hatred, no resentment. Hate takes energy, and I had none left to waste on him.

I would plaster on a smile and help him smooth over every scandal.

I accompanied him to business events with a practiced smile, playing the part of the perfect wife for all the world to see.

Because in one more month, our contract would finally expire.

I could take the money—enough to cover all of Stephen's medical expenses—and walk away.

But before I could even taste the freedom, Emily came back.

And on the very first day of her return, they flaunted an intimate photo together across all their social media.