My Contract Husband Hides His Billions

My mother gave me an impossible ultimatum: find a wealthy man to marry in one week, or endure three agonizing blind dates every single day.

Driven to the edge after being humiliated by her latest arrogant candidate, I made a reckless move.

I asked my brother's old college roommate, Hunter, a seemingly average project manager, to be my fake boyfriend.

He calmly rejected the idea, telling me a fake boyfriend wouldn't stop my mother.

Instead, he suggested a legally binding marriage of convenience.

Exhausted by the constant pressure and still haunted by my ex who left me for a rich heiress, I actually agreed.

Within hours, we signed a strict one-year contract and got our marriage license.

I thought I had found the perfect, harmless loophole to buy my freedom.

But my illusion shattered when my brother called in a panic, screaming that the man I just married was a ruthless, manipulative shark.

My anxiety spiked further when my cheating ex suddenly showed up at my coffee shop, begging to get back together.

Before I could react, Hunter stepped out of the shadows.

The gentle project manager vanished, replaced by a man with glacial eyes and terrifying, absolute authority.

"I'm her husband."

His voice left no room for argument.

Staring at the expensive Bentley he drove and the man who just effortlessly claimed me, I finally realized the terrifying truth.

I hadn't married an ordinary man at all, and he had no intention of letting this just be a contract.