Chapter 5

• Ever heard of a “wife for hire”? Absurd, right? Well, it was a brand-new concept to me too. As I stared at the billionaire sitting across from me, one thought rang loud and clear in my mind. 'This man has lost it.'
• How did I go from interviewing for a cleaner’s position to this? An offer to “marry” a billionaire? The words had barely left his lips before I scoffed, unable to help myself.
• “Is this some kind of joke?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him, skepticism dripping from every word.
• He tilted his head to the side, his expression oddly calm. His brows lifted slightly as his sharp gaze locked onto mine. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice steady yet tinged with what seemed like guilt—or maybe embarrassment. “Did I offend you? If I have…” He trailed off, leaving the room thick with awkward silence.
• “No, no, no… it’s not that,” I interrupted quickly, shaking my head. Relief flickered across his face as he exhaled, his lips curving into that warm, disarming smile.
• “It’s just…” I sighed, struggling to find the right words. “I didn’t think you were serious. You want me to be your wife? Why?”
• “Huh,” he muttered, shifting in his seat, clearly confused.
• “I mean, no offense, but… look at you.”
• His brows furrowed as he glanced down at himself, then back up at me, his expression silently asking, ‘What’s wrong with me?‘
• “You’re tall, handsome, rich,” I continued, gesturing toward him as if to underline my point. “Any woman out there would swarm around you, dying for the chance to be with you. So, why me? Unless there’s more to it. Unless there’s… a motive.”
• He blinked, his expression unreadable now, but I pressed on.
• “Sure, you have a son, but that alone isn’t convincing. You wouldn’t lie to your son and pretend I’m his mother. And you certainly wouldn’t marry me just because I remind you of your late wife. That would only hurt more, wouldn’t it? Seeing me every day, being reminded of her—and of the fact that she’s gone, and you couldn’t save her.”
• The room fell into a heavy silence. He didn’t meet my gaze anymore. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, eyes shutting as though retreating into his thoughts.
• Was I right? Was he weighing whether or not to tell me the truth? Or had I gone too far, and now he was upset?
• The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my nerves fraying with each passing second. 'Way to go, Amber. Big foul mouth strikes again.'
• “You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low and heavy. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, as though searching for answers in the plaster. “That’s not the real reason I want to marry you.”
• He sat upright, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. My stomach tightened, but for some reason, my treacherous gaze drifted to his lips. 'He has such succulent lips' I thought absently, before quickly snapping myself out of it.
• He looked away again, his fingers drumming an irregular rhythm on the desk. I waited, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.
• “Before she passed, she left me a message,” he finally said, his voice quieter now. “She had just traveled to New York to visit her family. She was on her way back when it happened.”
• He stood abruptly and strode to the side of the office. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a small key and used it to unlock the lower one. From inside, he retrieved a phone and walked back, setting it down on the desk in front of me.
• Wordlessly, he pushed it toward me. The screen displayed a single voicemail message.
• I picked up the phone and pressed play. Her voice filled the room, shaky and urgent. She was trying to tell him something. Something about someone in his family. But then there was a loud screech, her panicked scream, and nothing but silence.
• When the message ended, I let out a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. The weight of what I’d just heard pressed down on me like a boulder.
• He nodded slowly, his jaw tight. “I think someone in my family was involved in her death,” he said, his voice grim. “I think they killed her.”
• His words hit me like a slap. My stomach churned as I tried to process the implications. This wasn’t just about helping him or his son. It was about stepping into the life of a woman whose death may have been orchestrated by someone close to him.
• And if they saw me. Someone who looked so much like her, they might think their job hadn’t been successful.They might try again.
• The realization chilled me to the bone. This wasn’t just risky, it was practically a death sentence.
• Why would I even consider taking on something so dangerous? For a stranger I barely knew?
• I could understand revenge. I could even respect it. But risking someone else’s life to achieve it? That was where I drew the line.
• “I promise to protect you, Amber.”
• His voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, drawing my eyes to his. The way he looked at me, earnest, worried. It made it feel like he’d peeked into my mind and seen the storm of hesitation raging there.
• “Trust me,” he continued, his voice firm but pleading. “This time, they won’t touch you. I’ll protect you as best as I can, and I’ll find them.”
• I wanted to believe him. I really did. But his promises weren’t enough. Empathy stirred in my chest, yet logic screamed louder.
• For crying out loud, I’d come here looking for a job. A real, paying job. Not a death wish wrapped in the guise of being a billionaire’s wife. Not a game of Marco Polo with a murderer who’d be living ‘under the same roof’ as me.
• Every instinct I had begged me to pull away, to reject this lunacy and leave as though none of this had ever happened. As though a billionaire hadn’t just offered me a front-row seat to the end of my life.
• “Can I… at least think about it?” I finally asked, my voice quieter than I intended. The weight of it all pressed down on me like an avalanche. I pushed the phone back toward him, desperate for a moment of reprieve.
• “Sure.” His lips curved into a faint, defeated smile. He reached into the breast pocket of his suit and pulled out a sleek black card. “But you only have three days. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’ll assume you’re not interested, and the offer will be off the table. Deal?”
• My eyes flicked down to the platinum business card in his outstretched hand, then back to his face. The way he looked at me was almost enough to make me second-guess my instincts. Almost.
• “Deal,” I said finally, plucking the card from his hand.