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The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

Chapter 3 No.3

Word Count: 748 | Released on: 15/01/2026

ous places in SoHo where the menu was a c

t from a street vendor. She had changed into jeans and a sweater she

him throug

that was tight in all the right places and a leather jacket that

e had silver hair pulled back in a sev

behind a ne

and patted Dominic's hand. It looke

manila envelope

ave the woman a charming, practiced smile. The ki

wave of disgust warring with

up, smoothed her

in his chair, staring out the

th. She pushed open th

o his table and sat do

aze away from the street. Reco

d. "Come back for you

isha said. She didn't was

ed. "Can I get

. Black. And the c

Dominic. She took

said softly. "I know w

he boredom vanished, replaced b

Aisha said. "Sh

n, the corner of his mouth twitched. He lean

golo," he stated. I

isha lied. "But I

e sound that made heads turn. "Honey,

pulled out a napkin. She grabbe

it across

" she said. "I need you

at the number.

rand buy me?" he asked, hi

, but she held his gaze. "A husban

ter. He coughed, thumpin

garding a trust fund. I need someone who looks good in a

this morning. I can give you a monthly stipend. Five thousand a month,

ed at the napkin, then at he

and dollars every time the stock market ti

ess pursuit of more power. And this woman... this woman who thought he was a pr

d smoothly. "Big ones.

m. Once I get my trust fund unlocked

" he repeated,

d her hand across the table. Her

small hand. He looked

r hand in his. His palm was wa

said. "Mrs.

Chapter End

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The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

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“I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it-she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother's trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent-or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father's entire empire.”