The Contract Wife Chapter 02
Three years ago, Ashford Holdings was in the middle of an unprecedented crisis.
Hostile takeover attempts, downgraded debt ratings, major investors pulling out—the family empire was teetering.
What Nathan Ashford needed wasn’t just capital. He needed an alliance powerful enough to make the market believe in him again.
And I, as the heir to Sinclair Capital, offered myself.
Circles talked at the time. Some said the Sinclairs were taking advantage of another family’s misfortune—vultures picking at a wounded animal. Others called it a shrewd bottom-fishing move.
No one knew that I had been in love with Nathan for exactly seven years, ever since I first saw him in the Columbia library.
To spare him any pressure, and to leave him a way out, I asked my lawyer to draft an unusually generous prenup. The heart of it was that “three-year clause.”
For three years, we would present a united front to our families and appear at public events together.
After three years, if either party wanted a divorce, the other had no right to refuse.
On paper, this marriage gave me nothing.
I wanted nothing. I just wanted three years beside him.
Only later did I hear the whispers—that at the time, he’d been in the middle of a passionate relationship. That his parents had forcibly torn them apart to make him marry me.
After the wedding, Nathan treated me well. Nearly flawlessly, in fact.
Thoughtful. Gentle. Attentive.
He’d have his assistant deliver a warm dinner when I worked late. He remembered every anniversary and always had a gift ready. When I was sick, he stayed by the bed. Even in the bedroom, he fulfilled his role with dutiful care.
I thought that after three years together, he’d at least feel something.
Only now did I understand: everything he’d done was simply the diligent execution of the ancillary clauses in a business contract.
Love? Love had never been on the deliverables list.
I drew in a long breath and pressed my face into the sofa cushion.
A moment later, a wet patch had spread across it.