The CEO's Contract Wife

Chapter 2: The Wrong Foot

The contract was thicker than most novels.

Layla sat across from Jasper in a marble-floored office that smelled of old money and quiet power. Everything around her screamed wealth—massive windows overlooking the skyline, crystal chandeliers, leather-bound books lining every wall. And Jasper Tate, silent, commanding, leaned back in his chair like a king watching his subject squirm.

“I don’t see the hesitation,” he finally said, voice low and bored. “You agreed to this.”

Layla stared at the pages in front of her. Every line was clear: she would marry Jasper Tate. She would live under his roof. She would bear his child. And in return… one billion dollars.

All for her sister.

“I’m not hesitating,” she muttered.

“Then sign it,” he said coldly.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up the pen. One signature. One future. No way out.

She signed.

Jasper didn’t smile. He didn’t congratulate her. He just stood, took the file, and left the room with one word:

“Move in today.”

---

Four hours later, Layla stepped into his mansion.

If his office had been intimidating, the mansion was something else. Dark wood, black stone, endless hallways. The air felt colder, as if it didn’t welcome strangers. And she was very much a stranger here.

A tall housekeeper named Mary greeted her politely but with zero warmth. “You’ll be in the west wing. The Mr. Tate’s quarters are east. No need to cross paths unless summoned.”

Unless summoned. Like a servant.

She was shown to a suite bigger than her entire apartment. A king-size bed, a walk-in closet, and a view of the city that could have belonged in a movie. But it still didn’t feel like hers. It felt like… a cage dressed in silk.

She barely had time to unpack before Mary returned.

“Mr. Tate wishes to see you for dinner. Formal attire. Dining room in thirty.”

---

Layla wore a simple black dress. She didn’t want to impress him. Not tonight.

She found Jasper already seated at the long dining table, dressed in black on black. His expression unreadable as always.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up.

“I’m two minutes early.”

“You’re late to me.”

Layla sat down, jaw clenched. “Charming.”

They ate mostly in silence. At one point, she looked up and found his eyes locked on her—analyzing, cold, distant.

“So,” she said finally. “Do you always treat your... future child’s mother like a stranger?”

“You lied to my face the first night we met. Forgive me if I don’t play the romantic husband yet.”

She flinched. “You knew exactly what this arrangement was.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Exactly. So don’t confuse it for anything else.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

His voice was like ice. Sharp. Dismissive.

But it stung more than it should have.

---

Later that night, Layla wandered the mansion, unable to sleep.

She found a small library tucked behind a hallway—cozy, filled with old books, and somehow more alive than the rest of the cold house. She curled up on the velvet couch and opened a book at random, just to escape.

That’s when Jasper appeared.

No sound. No warning. Just his tall frame leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her.

“You read?” he asked.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“You don’t look like someone who has time for books.”

She snapped the book shut. “And you don’t look like someone who would ruin someone’s night for fun.”

His mouth curved. A rare smirk. “I ruin things without trying.”

Layla stood up. “Then maybe try being human, for once.”

A silence stretched between them. For a second, something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe. But it vanished.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Layla,” he said finally, turning away.

“You can call me Lana,” she said bitterly.

He stopped. “No. You only lie once with me.”

Then he disappeared down the dark hallway.

---

She knew she was supposed to be the one manipulating this deal. Getting paid to save her sister. Just business.

But now that she was inside his world…

It felt like he was the one pulling every string.

And worst of all?

A part of her hated how much she still wanted to understand him.

---