Becoming the Perfect Contract Wife, But Ready to Leave You

Caroline's POV

The tray slipped from my hands, red wine splashing all over the drunk man. He was still wearing that smug grin when he deliberately stuck his foot out to trip me.

"Caroline! That precious little princess again!" The manager's voice boomed from behind the bar. "No pay this month, and if this happens again, don't bother coming back!"

I crouched down to pick up the glass shards, my fingertip getting cut in the process. This was the third time this month I'd have to pay for damages. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I bit them back.

At ten o'clock, my shift ended. I pushed through the bar's doors, ready to head to my next job. The cold night air hit my face.

Then I saw my ex-husband.

Adrian stood under the streetlight, wearing that familiar charcoal gray coat. Three years had passed, but he hadn't changed a bit—still those cold eyes, still that expressionless face.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked.

His eyes swept over me—disheveled hair, uniform stained with wine, blood on my hands.

"Theo misses you. He needs you," he said. "And I... I need you too."

Those words hit me like a punch to the chest.

Back in college, I was drawn to his looks and pursued him relentlessly. Later, during cherry blossom season, I discovered I was pregnant. My father, left with no choice, arranged a family alliance—a six-year marriage contract between us.

But three years into our marriage, I walked into his office one afternoon to find Harper, his so-called adopted sister, sitting on his lap.

I stormed in, yanked Harper up and shoved her aside, then slapped Adrian with everything I had. I grabbed his tie, pushed against his chest, swept all the papers off his desk, and demanded he kick Harper out of the Cole house.

Adrian grabbed my wrists: "Caroline, look at you throwing another tantrum!"

"I've told you countless times, Harper is just my sister. You, on the other hand, are not fit to be the lady of the Cole house, acting like this."

"If you want to continue, learn to be mature. If you don't want this marriage, we don't have to keep this contract going."

I took his rational words as provocation. The next day, I went to a law firm, signed the divorce papers, and left without taking anything.

Looking back, it was too impulsive. But back then, I was a Spencer heiress—I thought I had options.

I didn't want to compromise, but my bank account had only $127 left. I was three months behind on rent, and every night my landlord pounded on my door demanding payment.

"Fine, I agree," I said without hesitation.

Adrian blinked, clearly not expecting me to agree so quickly. He opened his mouth as if he'd prepared a whole speech, but now had no use for it.

"Are you sure?" he asked, confusion in his voice. "Don't you need time to think? Or... any conditions?"

I shook my head. As long as he could get me out of this miserable life.

"My car's over there," he finally said, still sounding puzzled.

We didn't speak during the thirty-minute drive. Outside the window, the rundown Lower East Side gave way to the tidy Midtown, and finally the glittering Upper East Side.

I wondered what I'd become these past three years. Waiting tables, washing dishes, cleaning—I couldn't hold any job for long. Either I was too slow, had a bad attitude, or the boss tried to take advantage. I was drowning in debt, living in a dingy basement.

I used to attend champagne parties; now I couldn't afford a decent cup of coffee.

The car stopped in front of the townhouse on East 84th Street. The place I'd stormed out of three years ago now stood brightly lit, waiting for my return.

Looking at my haggard reflection in the car window felt like a declaration of failure.

Adrian led me into the house, asking, "Do you want to shower first or eat?"

"Whatever."

I wondered what I'd face next. Did Harper still live here? Would Theo accept me back? Was this a real reconciliation or just another business arrangement?

But I didn't ask. I wasn't in a position to ask these questions anymore.

The master bathroom looked exactly the same, even the skincare products I'd bought three years ago were still in their places. I checked them—all expired. I threw them in the trash and ended up using Adrian's shampoo.

"Your pajamas are still in the same place," Adrian walked toward the closet, hope flickering in his eyes. "I even bought new ones. Let me get them for you."

I remembered how I used to depend on him for everything. He'd choose what I wore, bring me pajamas when I forgot them before showering, I'd even ask his opinion on skincare products.

Back then I thought it was love. Now I realized it was just dependency.

"No need," I walked to the closet. "The old ones are fine. I can find them myself."

"But you used to always ask me to pick out your pajamas," he said, disappointed. "You'd forget to bring them when you showered and ask me to bring them in."

I pretended not to hear and grabbed a set of pajamas from the drawer myself.

After my shower, when I came downstairs for dinner, I stopped at the dining room entrance. Theo sat at the table—he'd grown so much in three years, his baby fat gone.

I remembered wanting to take him with me during the divorce, but he chose to stay with "Daddy and Aunt Harper." It broke my heart then, but now I was grateful he hadn't come with me. What kind of life would he have had these past three years?

Seeing me, Theo's expression brightened, his lips trembling slightly: "Mommy."

That word made my eyes well up. The table was set with red wine braised beef, lobster, truffle pasta—all my old favorites, but now I could barely swallow.

Just then, Harper walked in carrying a cake box. When our eyes met, her smile froze—she clearly hadn't expected me to be back.

"Theo, you must be hungry," she placed the cake on the table, pretending I didn't exist. "This is your favorite cake. I got it specially for you."

Theo glanced at the cake, then pushed it away and looked at me: "I don't want it. Mommy doesn't let me eat cake during dinner."

Then everyone's eyes turned to me.