BOUGHT TO BREAK: The Billionaire's Disposable Wife

01

I V Y

Tears rolled down my eyes as I looked at my frail mom. She was laying on the hospital bed, machines hooked up to her. My mom was sick with cancer. The doctors said she had three months to live but can survive up to six months with proper treatments.

That was why I had two jobs. I worked as the cleaner and chef in the hospital. I had to do everything to keep her alive but the downside was that it didn't give me enough time to visit her until it was late in the night.

I was risking it being here by this time of the afternoon but I just needed to see her. Squeezing her hands, I got no response. But that was okay, because she was sleeping.

My eyes drifted to the heart monitor to make sure, and I sighed in relief. My lips wobbled as the tears continued down my face. She looked so still, so lifeless and pale. Sometimes it was scary to look at her.

The door opened and I turned to see Jemma. She had a deep scowl on her face as she glared at me.

"Aren't you supposed to be serving lunch at the cafeteria?" She hissed and placed her hands on her hip.

Jemma was the head chef of the hospital, so she was also my boss. I quickly wiped my face with the back of my hands. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'll be there soon."

"No." She shook her head. She was angry, her face was red and the veins on her neck popped. "To the kitchen. Now!"

"Please, Jemma. Let me just say goodbye–" I didn't get to finish my sentence when Jemma grabbed my arm. Her nails dug into my skin as she dragged me out of the room and roughly shoved me towards the elevator.

I winced in pain, sniffling while also looking back. I wanted to make sure my mom's door was closed properly. It eventually clicked shut after a few long seconds.

Nurses and doctors watched as I was being manhandled by Jemma. They didn't say anything, not like I expected them to. This was how they were. Uncaring. And also the same.

Sometimes they yelled at me for no reason. I often wondered if they were even treating my mom. Dr. Nathan assured me they were. He was the only one that was nice to me. Unfortunately he didn't work all the time.

Jemma shoved me into the kitchen, and I mistakenly slammed my head on the edge of the fridge. A cry left my lips as I reached up to touch it.

Blood coated my hands and the tears just kept falling as I stared at my bloody hands through blurry vision. The others gave me pitiful looks but said nothing.

"Wash up and get dressed." Jemma tossed my apron towards me then left after barking at some others to join her outside. It landed at my feet. With a soft nod, I washed up at the sink and dawned on the apron.

"Wait," Olivia called when I moved to step out. I stopped and turned to her. She held up a band aid. "Here. It's a small cut, but you're still bleeding."

I thanked her and took the band aid, placing it on my forehead. Then, I went to do my job. Serve.

My mom got cancer right after I was done with high school. She was the only one I had and she'd given up everything for me to go to college. Of course I couldn't just up and leave for college when she had cancer.

So I touched all our savings but it was never enough. She got weaker everyday, thinner. We knew it was time for her to be admitted to the hospital. And so I offered to work to pay the bills.

My dad had left us when I was only five. I didn't remember much of him anyway, but mom said he wasn't a good husband or father. It was just two of us against the world, and everyday I prayed that she wouldn't leave me.

Not yet. I wasn't ready to do this life on my own. I couldn't.

We served doctors, and nurses as they took their lunch break. This lunch floor was for the employees. There was another one on the ground floor for the patients and family of patients. I had never worked there.

I think Jemma didn't want them to see how I was treated. It would be bad for business. But what could I expect from a general hospital?

The money wasn't there to put my mom in a private hospital. I almost always begged Dr. Nathan not to leave but that would be selfish. He had his family to go back to. So I could only wait until his next shift.

Soon enough, I was done serving and it was time for my clean up job. Before I left, I went to Jemma, I had to ask for permission to leave.

My knuckles rapped on her door and her snarky "come in" met my ears. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and walked in.

"Hi, I just wanted to let you know I'll be going to clean," I told her. My voice was not more than a squeak.

She slowly raised her head to me, then rolled her eyes and let out an irritated sigh. Like I was nothing more than a lint on her clothes.

Then she uttered words that made my heart crack in my chest. "Your salary will be reduced by five percent. That's for the stress you put me through to go looking for you when it was time for you to work."

"Please, Jemma." I sank to my knees. "Please, don't do this. It's just once and I needed to see her, please," I begged and began to cry again.

My face burned from crying all day, and my head pounded in my skull. Jemma ignored me, going back to her paperwork.

I kept pleading, begging her. I needed all the money I could get. Every. Single. Penny. And here she was, cutting me off by five percent. I wasn't even making much in the first place so five percent was a big deal. Twenty dollars an hour was not enough to sort out my mom's bills.

"Leave my office, Ivy," Jemma snapped after she'd had enough of my sobs. But I shook my head and kept begging, hoping she would change her mind. This was the first time-in the four months I've worked here- that I turned up late to work. She could just spare me, pardon me. She could have a little compassion, knowing my situation.

I should've known. It was wishful thinking. Jemma's heart was as hard as ice, and it wouldn't thaw. Grabbing me by my arm again,-the same arm she dug her nails into-she threw me out of her office.

And I landed as a heap on the floor with tears running down my face. Then she slammed the door shut.

>>>>

It was finally evening and I had not stopped crying. I'd left my mom's room because I needed a breather. My mom had woken up a few times, but she was too groggy to talk so I shushed her back to sleep.

I nursed the chocolate bar I grabbed from the vending machine while sitting at the empty reception of the hospital. It was quiet and empty for the first time in months. Even the receptionist wasn't on her seat at the moment.

Taking the opportunity, I let my eyes drift shut as I chewed. If there was anything I needed, it was a miracle.

As if my thoughts had been answered, a click of heels forced my eyes open. And I stared at the lady that was currently walking towards me.

She was dressed in a brown trench coat that was tied around her waist, and high heels that looked too expensive. She smelled expensive too.

I shrunk in my chair the closer she got to me. My eyes darted left and right, and there was no one else here except for us.

Her hair was in long blonde waves, and when she reached me, I was blown away by how stunning she was. Her scent enveloped me like a warm hug, then she smiled at me. Red ruby lips spread into a large smile.

"Hello," she said, looming over me and forcing my head to tilt upwards. "I'm Marianne, and I have a proposal for you."

She held red painted hands out for a handshake. I eyed the hand warily, noting the diamond encrusted watch that adorned her wrists.

I blinked. Once. "I'm Ivy Cole," I told her then took another bite of my chocolate bar. It was a nervous tick.

"This date, time and venue." She handed me a card. "Five million dollars to marry my son, Elliot Grayson. One year. What do you say, Ivy Cole?"

02

I V Y

~One Week Later~

Yes.

That was the response I gave Marianne. Should I have taken my time to think about it? Probably. But I didn't. What could possibly go wrong? Anything that went wrong could be compensated with the five million dollars.

When she made that offer, my mom's bills were all I could think about. I'd even let myself think of my mom healthy, happy and cancer free.

So here I stood, at the venue where I was supposed to be married. I'd dressed up in what little presentable clothes I could find at home. A white knee-length dress with pink polka dots, and black loafers. I'd even managed to style my unruly brown waves.

"I'm glad you could make it," Marianne said once she walked in and saw me. Of course, I could make it. Jemma was not pleased, she threatened to cut my pay again. But I didn't need her, I would have five million at the end of the day.

Subtly, I looked for her son behind her shoulders but I couldn't find him. I didn't know what I was expecting, she hadn't shown me a picture of the man I was supposed to spend one year married to.

"Don't worry," she glanced at her wristwatch. "He'll be here in a minute."

I only nodded and took a seat. My knees bounced with nerves and I hoped I wasn't making a rash decision. Frankly, I didn't know these people.

The longer we waited, the more I felt like I was making the wrong decision. My heart pounded in my chest and before I could think too much about it, the doors slammed open.

A curly dark-haired man stormed in. He looked older than I was, but not by much. Maybe mid or late twenties. His eyes were red-rimmed and his shirt was worn haphazardly. He glared at Marianne when he spotted us, and his eyes passed over me. No acknowledgment. Nothing. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was still visible.

"That is Elliot Grayson," Marianne said with a tight lip smile. Then she stood to her feet, and grabbed me up. "He's your husband. Let's go."

She walked towards him and whispered words I couldn't hear. She looked tense, her eyes were hard as she spoke. Elliot's eyes washed over her and stopped on me.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze turned icy. Disgust and disdain swirled in his piercing grey orbs as they trailed down my frame. My heart sank to my stomach, and my mouth dried up. The greeting on the tip of my tongue fizzled out.

"... you will marry her, Elliot." I caught the end of Marianne's words and she turned to me with a smile that was forced and sickly sweet. Wiping my hands on my dress, we followed her out to the arena.

A clergyman stood at the end of the hall. Elliot and I walked to him. Not side by side, no. Elliot was already halfway there, while I lagged behind. I felt he was trying to be done with the marriage. He probably had a stunning girlfriend somewhere.

I wish I knew why he was forced to marry me. But I didn't. I asked but Marianne dismissed me. She said it was personal but I shouldn't freight.

When I was young, marriage had been my dream. I'd pictured my Prince Charming. Those were the thoughts that I fell asleep to almost every night. Until I realized dreams were just that... dreams. But I let myself hope.

Finally, I stood in front of the clergyman and he instructed us to face each other. Marianne sat somewhere at the back as the only witness to this sham of a marriage.

He didn't waste time. In fact, he rushed through our vows when Elliot snapped at him. "Does it look like I want to get married to this? Hurry the fuck up." He'd sneered, looking me up and down. The judgement was palpable and my eyes stung.

He looked at me the way everyone looked at me. Worthless. Pathetic. Poor. I fought the tears at his cruel jab. The words he didn't say were not hard to decipher when he looked at me. He hated me. I could feel it.

I didn't know the man. I should not feel bad that he hated me. But I assumed he would be decent. I wasn't asking for much, I only wanted to be treated like a human being and not a church rat.

The clergymen repeated the vows to me. "Do you, Ivy Cole, take Elliot Grayson as your husband till death do you part?" And I replied, "Yes, I do."

As soon as the vows were exchanged, Marianne brought the rings. Elliot flinched from my hold when I tried to put the ring on his finger.

"Don't you dare touch me. I don't need you spreading whatever disease you have," he said with a hiss. Marianne offered an apologetic smile. I gave a single nod and handed his ring back to Marianne then put my own ring by myself with shaky fingers.

We tied the knot and I felt like I'd just sold myself to the devil. The only consolation was that I was now five million dollars richer.

After that, Marianne led us to the courthouse where we signed our marriage papers.

"Girls like you are all the same. Eager to sink your gold digging claws into innocent men and spread your legs for a few pennies. I don't know how much she's paying you," Elliot spat after signing his certificate. He aimed a glare at both Marianne and I. "But I won't be around to find out. Congratulations, you're now a Grayson."

The words pierced my heart like an arrow. I liked to think he was wrong, but I knew better. After all, I jumped at Marianne's offer before she even completed her sentence.

I'd been holding my tears ever since Elliot walked into the venue. And everytime he opened his mouth to speak, I held my breath and braced myself. Because I knew anything that comes out of his mouth would be nothing but cutting.

While we waited for the photographers, Elliot paced. He would stop, glare at me then continue pacing. His fists clenched and unclenched at his side.

Suddenly, his hand shot out and he gripped my wrist. Tight. His voice was laced with venom as he asked; "Do you understand that you're a whore?"

I cringed at the word then whimpered in response and looked to Marianne for help. But she looked away with a frown on her face. I was not a whore. I hadn't even had sex yet. But they didn't know that. I bet Marianne thought I was a whore too.

She only knew that my mom was sick and I had bills to pay. She didn't care for much information and she didn't give up much information either. And she probably judged me for not asking much.

I felt my bones grind together as Elliot's grip on my hand tightened. He was going to leave hand prints, with how tight he held me. Then he made a promise before shoving past us and the photographers.

"You've successfully ruined my life. And I promise, I will ruin yours too."

His hand print had begun to form on my wrist and I stared at it, regret burning at the back of mind.

03

I V Y

My mom gave me a small smile. It was all she could muster as she managed to squeeze my hand. I had moved her to a private hospital two days after the marriage.

Dr. Nathan had recommended it but then he asked how I got the money. Shame rolled in my tummy at the question and I looked away instead. I couldn't tell him. The worry in his eyes only twisted my gut, and when he saw my bruised wrist and shook his head in disappointment and sorrow, I began to cry.

He held me as I sobbed, promising that things would get better but that I didn't have to go through with 'this'. How long would I have to wait for things to get better? I'd waited four months, and nothing happened.

If the five million came with an absent husband and one who gave me a bruise the first day, then this was the best it could get. I didn't dare hope for anything to get better.

A cough pulled me out of my thoughts and I hurriedly grabbed my mom a glass of water. She looked stronger today. "I really want to see the woman that helped us. I want to thank her for her generosity," my mom said after the coughing fit had died down.

My smile didn't reach my eyes when I replied, "I'll make sure she comes around when she's back."

Sue me. I'd lied to my mom. When she asked how I was able to afford this hospital, I told her that a lady just took pity on us and helped out. It wasn't much of a lie, and it was closer to the truth. I didn't want to make her worry. Not in this state.

For that reason too, I'd worn a long sleeved shirt to cover my wrist. The ring in my pocket felt like a thorn at my side, almost like it was digging a hole through my skin.

We caught up on everything. We talked, and we laughed too. I assured her that Dr. Nathan would visit while she made me promise to go out more instead of making my home beside her. And for the first time in months, I felt a sense of relief. If nothing got better, my mom would. I could feel it.

The doors to the room opened softly and a female doctor stepped in. Diane was her name. She was the doctor assigned to my mom and she did great. Not much of a talker, but she did her job.

She gave me a small smile then turned to my mom. "How are we feeling today?" She asked. I paid attention to the questions she asked and the answers my mom gave.

"Everything looks improved so far. I'll come back later," Diane said and we waved a smiley goodbye to her. My mom and I shared a smile before she began to drift off to sleep.

When she was settled and peacefully asleep, I kissed her forehead and left the room. I promised to come back the next day, even if she didn't hear me. And I began my journey back to Elliot's penthouse.

Marianne said that was where I had to stay. There were a lot of dos and don'ts as a 'Grayson' wife. I'd even signed a contract.

Elliot hadn't come home since the marriage. And sometimes at night, I felt the loneliness seep into my bones, chilling me. It was now my home, though I couldn't help but feel like a stranger.

Just as I reached the lobby of the hotel, the receptionist, Lydia, held her nose as I walked past. I didn't know her but her dislike for me was evident. When I first moved in with Marianne helping me, she had taken one look at me and giggled to herself.

Oftentimes she said horrible things that were aimed at me, but never directly said to me. Like today, she said; "Wretchedness is like skin. No matter where you go, you cannot shed it off."

It was obvious that even though I had millions of dollars still sitting in my account, I was still the same. No matter how I looked, or how I dressed.

Her words always stuck to me. It made me feel less than, and unworthy. Like a 'nobody'. Why were people so cruel? I hadn't done anything to her except to offer a kind smile... but she took one look at me and declared I was not worthy.

I was too exhausted, and too drained to ask her why she thought it was okay to treat people like that. She didn't have to like me, but she also didn't have to be rude.

By passing her, I stepped into the elevator and went up to the penthouse. As I stepped in, I stopped in my tracks. There was a man waiting for me, and he didn't look pleased.

My pulse thrummed frantically as his eyes bore holes into my skin. He looked like he would rip me apart until I was just pieces of blood, shredded skin and crushed bones.

I gulped.