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The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract

Chapter 6 No.6

Word Count: 747    |    Released on: 05/02/2026

ned directly int

us. The walls were mostly glass, offering a panoramic view of Ce

silence of Lydia's apartment,

her fifties, wearing a severe grey unifor

t was German. She looked at Dawn, her eyes scann

lushed

d handed it to the woman. "Marta, this

d. "Master suit

was unbuttoning his cuffs. "The maids talk. If we sle

bed is big enough for four people. I won't touch yo

said it so easily t

" he

ng with art. Real art. She stopped in front of a painting.

ists," Marta said, n

wn's entire apartment in Queens. The bed was indeed ma

ere," Marta said, openin

ked in a

filled. Rows of dresses, blouses, c

t over an hour ago," Mart

k blouse. It was soft as water.

ld say yes. Or he was that pr

h," Marta said. "

e stripped off the red dress and the trench coat. She sank in

rs that mixed with the bathwater. She was saf

she found in the closet. They were a pale blue.

ck out to the

aptop open on his knees. He was speaking German

ntence. He pulled the headset off

r," he

s set for two. But instead of a fanc

said. "Marta said you looked pa

t smelled like rosemary an

opposite her. He watched h

ood," s

picked up

few minutes. The rain la

ck tomorrow," Da

ting. "I told you,

oice was firm. "There's a box. Under my bed. I need to get it myself. Lydi

He saw the fear in her

s in t

s," she sa

wly. "Fine. But you don't go alone. My

" Dawn

mmanded gently. "

first time in ye

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The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract
The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract
“My bank account showed exactly $42.18, and my student loan notifications were flashing red. I lived in a sweltering Queens apartment with my Aunt Lydia, where the air was thick with the smell of stale frying oil and the constant threat of being homeless. Lydia handed me a grainy photo of a man twice my age and told me she had already "sold" me to him. He was a dry cleaner looking for a wife, and in exchange for my hand, he would pay off her credit cards and my debt. If I didn't show up for the date that night, my boxes would be on the curb by midnight. I arrived at the cafe in a state of panic, my selective mutism making it impossible to even breathe. In the crowded room, I accidentally sat at the wrong table. Instead of the man from the photo, I found myself facing Gerhard Holcomb-the cold, terrifyingly handsome billionaire whose family owned the very museum where I worked. He didn't send me away; instead, he studied my trembling hands and offered me a different deal: a two-year contract marriage, a two-million-dollar payout, and a strict clause forbidding any children. I signed the papers and moved into his Park Avenue penthouse, thinking I was finally safe. But when I went back to the old apartment to retrieve the only memento of my dead parents, Lydia lashed out, leaving me bleeding from a head wound. Gerhard's retaliation was absolute-he had her arrested and her building foreclosed on within hours, claiming he was simply "protecting his assets." As I recovered in his silent, glass-walled home, I saw a call from a famous socialite flash on his phone, and a cold truth settled in my gut. I wasn't just a wife; I was a placeholder, a silent shield used to fend off the women from his past. I looked at the massive pink diamond on my finger and realized the silence I had lived in my whole life was about to become my most expensive prison. I had traded a life of poverty for a high-stakes game of shadows, and now I had to survive the man who claimed to own me.”