The Contract Bride

I balanced three plates on my left arm while refilling coffee cups with my right. Thank God, the lunch rush was finally dying down.

"Table six needs extra napkins," Jenny called from behind the counter.

"Got it," I replied, grabbing a handful from the dispenser.

I'd been working double shifts for three months now, ever since Maya's treatments got more expensive. Another twelve-hour day, another sixty dollars in tips if I'm lucky. At this rate, I'll need to work until I'm ninety to afford Maya's medical bills.

The door bell chimed as a man walked in with a young boy. I glanced up from wiping table four and felt my breath catch.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with military posture. His son—had to be his son with those same serious blue eyes—trailed behind reluctantly.

"Just pick anywhere," I called out. "I'll be right with you."

The boy chose a booth by the window. Eight, maybe nine years old, with dark hair that needed cutting and clothes that cost more than I made in a week.

I approached their table with menus and an ice water pitcher. "Hi there, I'm Rose. What can I get you?"

The man looked up. Those eyes were intense. "Coffee for me. Tommy, what do you want to drink?"

"Orange juice," the boy mumbled without looking at me.

"Coming right up." I poured the man's coffee and reached for the juice pitcher. "How's your day going, Tommy?"

Tommy shrugged. His father—Marcus, according to the credit card on the table—watched carefully.

This kid looks like he'd rather be anywhere else.

I poured the orange juice, but Tommy's elbow was right where I needed to reach. He suddenly gestured while talking to his father.

Splash.

Orange juice covered my uniform, the table, and Tommy's lap.

"Oh no!" Tommy's eyes went wide with panic. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

I set the pitcher down calmly and grabbed napkins. "Hey, it's okay. Accidents happen all the time."

"But I ruined your shirt," Tommy said, looking like he might cry.

"This old thing?" I smiled and started cleaning up. "I've got extras in my locker. No big deal, sweetie."

Marcus watched me clean without a hint of annoyance. "I'm sorry about that. He's usually more careful."

"Really, it's fine. The washers here have seen worse." I looked at Tommy, still mortified. "Want me to get you a new juice? This one's on the house."

Tommy nodded gratefully.

Marcus left a generous tip. I noticed but didn't comment.

I was heating leftover soup when someone knocked on my door. I wasn't expecting anyone—Maya was staying overnight at the hospital for observation.

Through the peephole, I saw a man in an expensive suit holding a briefcase.

"Ms. Martinez? I'm James Chen. I represent Marcus Blackwood." He held up a business card. "We met briefly at the diner today."

I opened the door but kept the chain lock on. "I don't understand."

"May I come in? I have a proposition that could benefit us both."

I let him in. My apartment was small but clean—a worn couch, kitchen table with two chairs, and medical bills stacked on the counter.

Chen sat down without being invited. "Mr. Blackwood needs a wife. You need money. I'm here to discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Excuse me?"

"A marriage contract. Twenty-four months. Eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

Chen opened his briefcase and pulled out a folder. "Your primary responsibilities would be living in his home, caring for his son, and accompanying him to business events."

I stared at him. "You're talking about a fake marriage."

"I'm talking about a legal marriage with clearly defined terms and compensation."

"Why me?"

"You were kind to his son today. Tommy is particular about people. You passed his test without knowing there was one."

Eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Maya's treatment costs eight hundred thousand.

"What exactly would I have to do?"

"Live in his house. Help with Tommy—the boy needs stability. Attend social functions as his wife. In return, you receive full compensation upfront, plus living expenses."

"And the... marital aspects?"

Chen's expression didn't change. "Purely for public appearances. Mr. Blackwood is not looking for romance."

I looked at the medical bills on my counter. "I need to think about this."

"Of course. But Maya Martinez's condition is deteriorating rapidly. The experimental treatment she needs isn't covered by insurance."

Chen stood up. "You have until tomorrow evening to decide.

I sat beside Maya's bed, watching her sleep. Maya looked small under the hospital blankets, her skin pale and bruised from the IVs.

"You're staring again," Maya said without opening her eyes.

"Sorry. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck, but I'm alive." Maya opened her eyes and smiled weakly. "The doctors seem optimistic about the new treatment protocol."

My heart clenched. The doctors had told me the opposite—without the experimental treatment, Maya had maybe six months.

"Maya, what if... what if I told you someone wanted to help with the medical costs?"

"Like a charity?"

"Something like that."

Maya studied my face. "Rose, what aren't you telling me?"

I can't tell her I'm considering marrying a stranger. She'd never let me do it.

"There's a family that wants to help. They've been through this before, and they want to pay it forward."

"I don't like taking charity."

"Maya, please. Let me handle this. I can't lose you too." I grabbed her hand. "Danny would want you to fight."

Maya squeezed back. "If it means you won't sacrifice everything for me..."

"I'm not sacrificing anything. I'm making a choice."

I sat across from Marcus Blackwood in a conference room. He was even more intimidating in a business suit, but he kept checking his phone—probably worried about Tommy.

"The terms are straightforward," Chen said, sliding papers across the table. "Twenty-four month marriage contract. Mrs. Martinez receives full compensation of $850,000 immediately upon signing."

Marcus looked at me. "Are you sure about this?"

"Are you?"

"I need someone who can help with Tommy. My business requires certain... appearances. A stable family life."

He talks about marriage like a business transaction. For Maya, I can do this.

"What about Tommy? Does he know?"

"He knows you'll be living with us. He doesn't know about the contract." Marcus's jaw tightened. "As far as he's concerned, we're... together."

"That means lying to an eight-year-old."

"It means giving him stability. His mother left when he was three. He doesn't need to know this is temporary."

I felt a pang of sympathy. "What about your ex-wife?"

"Elena made her choice. She's not coming back."

Chen cleared his throat. "If you're both ready?"

I picked up the pen. Eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Maya's life. Twenty-four months of pretending to be someone's wife.

I signed my name: Rose Martinez-Blackwood.

"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Blackwood," Marcus said, but his voice was all business.

I looked at the check in my hands—more money than I'd ever seen.

What have I just done? I've sold myself into marriage to save Maya. Danny, I hope you'd understand.

"When do I move in?" I asked.

"Tomorrow," Marcus replied. "Tommy's expecting you for dinner."