The Billionaire's Secret Paper Wife

Chapter 4

Word Count: 842 | Released on: 09/05/2026

ew York City Hall bites a

mple white button-down shirt and black slacks.

Maybach pulls

charcoal suit that looks like armor. He does not look at her. He does not

ls into ste

es them past the crowded waiting area,

racticed smile. "Do you have rings to

a thick, notarized folder. "I have arranged for the marriage records to be sealed at the highes

ck. She bites the inside of her cheek until it bleeds. I

rriage certifica

across the desk. Dell takes it, doesn't

out of the

. "Three o'clock," he says, his eyes

car pulls away, leaving her

ped apartment in Queens. She packs her en

ives her Honda Civic t

y swing open. She drives up the short, immaculate cobblestone path, her cheap car look

e suit is waiting

ing slightly. "I am Reginald Poole, the e

ssion perfectly neutral, but Chantal feels the

house is a museum of cold ma

aircase and down a long hallway. H

down the hallway to a set of double doors at th

ance between the

down at her hands. Her mind flashes back to Dell's office, to the scorching heat of his palm and that sudden, terrifying memory of the dark room. A shiver races down her

s the sound of a car eng

lks out of her room and

has loosened his tie,

landing. The air between the

house," Dell says, his voice a low, dan

stiffens. She

ays," Chantal fires back. "I have no

title. He glares at her for one

he door to the master suite. The s

ds frozen on

rds: Thank you. Chantal lets out a heavy sigh, her thumb hovering over the screen before she locks it. She barely has

k. A wire transfer of fifty

exhausting relief washes over her, but the massiv

Chapter End

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The Billionaire's Secret Paper Wife

Breeze Romance

“Chantal Lewis's family legacy was twenty-four hours away from a fifty-million-dollar foreclosure. Desperate to save her parents, she sold her soul, offering herself as a paper wife to Dell Valdez, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire needing a quick PR fix. But Dell didn't just buy her; he trapped her in a living nightmare. He forced her into a brutal three-year repayment plan she could never afford, treated her like a disposable prop, and deliberately leaked a scandalous paparazzi photo to destroy her hard-earned professional credibility. Worst of all, the first time his calloused hand touched hers, a violent, terrifying flashback assaulted her brain. The scorching heat of his palms and the distinct, dark scent of his cedarwood cologne perfectly matched the repressed memory of a pitch-black room where she was pinned to a mattress against her will. Chantal didn't understand why her cold-blooded fake husband felt exactly like the monster from her unspoken trauma. She understood even less why, after months of ignoring her, he was suddenly acting violently jealous and possessive when she merely smiled at another man! Why did his scent match her attacker, and what was he truly planning? Furious, she called him to threaten a divorce, only for his voice to drop into a lethal whisper. "Try it. See what happens." Before she could process his deadly threat, her office phone rang. "Ms. Lewis," her receptionist trembled. "Your brother is in the lobby. He owes money to some very bad people, and they are coming here right now."”