The Billionaire's Price for My Salvation

Chapter 2 2

Word Count: 524 | Released on: 02/04/2026

y with the smell of boiled cabbage and the low, persistent drone of the television her mother kept on simply to chase away the silence. Piled

tal bills, mortgage statements, maxed‑out credit cards left by her fathe

gaze fixed on the flickering game show, but Adelynn knew she was not truly watching. She was ad

l, sweetie?" Helen asked,

e and tucked the most terrif

mail, Mom.

believe-a fragile truce against th

glowed with an unfinished design: a flowing, elegant dress that seemed to mock her from the digital canvas. It w

er, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

tian

d Midas touch. He had taken over Mercer Holdings at twenty‑five, following his father's sudden retirement, and tripled the company's value. H

Only five years

r comprehend-a world where a spilled coffee was an

harply on the nigh

ame that sent a sharp, tan

fer

hat revealed a flicker of something beyond his icy control. He stared slightly off-camera, and for a split second, his ex

annoyed at her own fooli

r. A king in his

f the scenery he ow

ut her

ingered in

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The Billionaire's Price for My Salvation

Da Caomei Romance

“I was a Parsons-trained designer, but with my family drowning in over half a million dollars of debt, I delivered coffee just to survive. One clumsy mistake-spilling a latte in a corporate lobby-put me on the radar of the city's most ruthless billionaire, Christian Mercer. A week later, I wasn't fired. I was summoned to his office on the 85th floor, where he laid out a contract. He knew everything: my student loans, my mother's crippling medical bills, the foreclosure notices piling up on our kitchen table. He offered to wipe it all away, plus pay me five million dollars. The price was one year of my life as his wife. He called it a "mutually beneficial transaction," coldly stating my desperate circumstances made me the perfect, compliant candidate. I wasn't a person to him, just an asset to be acquired to solve a problem he refused to explain. But when I found the eviction notice taped to our apartment door, my pride was a luxury I could no longer afford. I signed his contract. After a sterile City Hall ceremony, he left me alone in his cold, empty penthouse with a final, chilling instruction. "The public part of our agreement begins now, Mrs. Mercer," he said, his voice void of any emotion. "Act accordingly."”