Blindly Obsessed With My Contract Wife

"Zachary... does it feel good?"

A woman's gentle voice floated out through the partially open door of the presidential suite.

The moment Clara Lambert heard those words, she froze, instinctively gripping the tray of warm milk more tightly.

Only distinguished guests had been staying on the hotel's top floor that evening. Her supervisor had repeatedly reminded her that the guest in that suite was extremely influential and had to be treated with the utmost care.

Clara lifted her hand toward the door, but before she could knock, something visible through the narrow opening made her stop.

She only needed one glance. A bone-deep coldness swept through her body, leaving her feeling as though every drop of blood had frozen.

Beside the luxurious black leather sofa, a woman dressed in an immaculate white couture gown was kneeling halfway on the floor, positioned between a man's legs.

Their position was so suggestive that anyone who saw it would have been embarrassed.

The man was sprawled casually against the sofa, his black shirt open at the top with two buttons undone and his defined collarbone exposed.

A pair of gold-rimmed glasses sat neatly on his nose, while his relaxed brows gave him an unmistakably distant and aristocratic appearance.

The instant Clara saw his face, her mind went blank beneath a deafening buzz that swallowed every thought.

She knew that profile better than she knew her own.

He was dressed in expensive clothes-nothing like the way he normally looked. Still, she recognized him immediately.

It was Zack, her boyfriend.

Five years earlier, she had found him bloodied and unconscious in a muddy ditch behind her village. Clara had carried him home herself and stayed beside him for three days, refusing to let him die. When he finally regained consciousness, his memory was gone.

After losing his memory and having nowhere else to turn, Zack stayed with her for five years, constantly trailing after her like a huge, needy puppy.

Only last night, he had embraced her and sworn, "Clara, when I start earning money, I'll give you a good life. I promise."

Yet now he was sitting in a presidential suite worth tens of thousands per night, while another woman occupied the space between his legs.

"You shouldn't have put so much strain on your ankle after you twisted it earlier." Emily Ford raised her face, her fingers moving slowly up his suit trousers. "Does it still hurt here? I'll rub it for you a little longer."

A piercing ringing filled Clara's ears, making their conversation almost impossible for her to hear.

Cold spread through her from head to toe, while her trembling fingers struggled to hold on to the tray.

Then came a loud crash. The tray slipped from her hands and struck the marble floor, the glass breaking into pieces as warm milk spread over the polished tiles.

Several young men came down the corridor, their conversation filled with laughter. The moment they noticed the mess, their expressions changed.

"What's wrong with you? Can't you even carry a tray properly?" one of them barked angrily.

His voice finally pulled Clara out of her daze. She slowly looked up.

Footsteps sounded from inside the suite, approaching at an even pace.

Zachary Bennett appeared in the doorway with one hand resting casually inside his pocket. His face was cold and composed, showing no sign that anything unusual had happened moments earlier.

Then he saw Clara. His eyes widened for an instant, and his stride stopped.

Clara remained motionless as she stared straight at him, desperately looking for any sign of panic, guilt, or regret on his face.

Yet she found none.

The initial surprise quickly disappeared. Behind his lenses, Zachary's gaze tightened, revealing not remorse but annoyance at being caught and irritation over the interruption.

Emily came after him, gathering her skirt as she stepped outside. When she noticed Clara, unmistakable smugness appeared in her eyes, almost as though she were deliberately declaring her place beside Zachary.

"Mr. Bennett, so this is where you were." One of the wealthy young men hurried over with an ingratiating smile. "The Hopkins family just contacted us about whether you'd like to go over the engagement party arrangements yourself. Who would've thought you'd be tucked away here enjoying some quiet?"

His companion looked toward Emily and gave a meaningful chuckle. "Well, Ms. Ford is here as well. You're about to become engaged to Ms. Hopkins, Mr. Bennett, but you're still spending time with your savior. If Ms. Hopkins hears about this, won't she be jealous?"

Clara listened quietly as the words sank in.

Each revelation landed painfully in her chest.

The man she had believed was penniless and helpless had never been a nobody at all.

He was Zachary Bennett, heir to the prestigious Bennett family, and he was about to get engaged to the daughter of the Hopkins family-a family of equal prominence.

All this time, she had been the only one who knew nothing.

"Now that I think about it, Ms. Ford really is your lucky star, Mr. Bennett," another man said, laying the praise on thick. "Without her medical skills, who knows how long it would've taken you to regain your memory and return to the Bennett family to take control of the business?"

"That's right. It only took two treatments for Mr. Bennett to remember everything. That's a huge favor," someone else agreed.

Emily modestly lowered her gaze, a bashful smile appearing on her lips. "You're making too much of it. I simply did what a doctor should. Zachary has endured so much during all those years away from home. I'm just relieved that I was able to help him."

Her eyes then fell on the broken porcelain, and she gave a startled little gasp. "Oh dear, how could the attendant have been this careless? Zachary was drinking tonight, and if he doesn't drink his warm milk soon, his stomach will start hurting again."

Anger shook Clara from head to toe, yet she didn't even bother looking at Emily. Her eyes remained locked on Zachary.

If Emily was truly the person who had saved him, then what did that make her?

Five years earlier, she had hauled his badly wounded body back to her home, bandaged his injuries, stitched his wounds, and fought to keep him alive.

Whenever his head hurt so badly that he could barely bear it, or his old injuries began acting up, Clara was the one who spent entire nights caring for him, preparing his medicine and repeatedly massaging his aching body.

Yet now, everyone spoke as though Emily was the one who had rescued him.

And what made it even more infuriating? Zachary offered no response whatsoever!

He neither clarified what existed between them nor bothered to refute anything the others had said.

Whatever tiny bit of hope Clara had been holding onto disappeared completely.

Just then, another attendant rushed over carrying a new glass of warm milk.

The supervisor, already frantic with nerves, grabbed the tray and forced it into Clara's hands. "Why are you still standing there? Take it to Mr. Bennett and apologize quickly!"

Clara remained where she was.

Emily stepped forward instead, wearing a pleasant smile. "I'll take care of it."

But as she reached for the tray, her elbow happened to knock against its edge.

The glass immediately tipped sideways, spilling over half of the milk across her dress.

"Ah!" Emily cried out as she stumbled several steps back.

A conspicuous stain quickly spread over the immaculate white gown.

Her eyes reddened as tears gathered, her expression turning wounded and pitiful. "My dress..."

Clara kept hold of the tray, the remaining milk still inside the glass, and watched Emily's display with an expression emptied of emotion.

The people watching immediately began directing their anger at Clara.

"What kind of attendant are you? You did that deliberately, didn't you?"

"You had the nerve to spill it on Ms. Ford? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The supervisor panicked and seized Clara by the shoulders, forcibly pushing her down in an attempt to make her bow.

"Mr. Bennett, Ms. Ford, I'm terribly sorry!" he rushed to say. "She's new and doesn't know the proper way to handle things yet. I'll have her apologize immediately!"

Emily wiped delicately beneath her eyes, then gave Clara a scornful look. "Apologize? Zachary had this gown specially made for me. It cost eight hundred thousand dollars. Can someone like her afford to compensate me?"

Clara's lips pressed into a thin line. Eight hundred thousand dollars? Even working three jobs every day, she could barely save ten thousand dollars in an entire month.

Where the others couldn't see, the supervisor dug his fingers painfully into her arm. "Bow and apologize right now! Do you want to get all of us fired because of this?" he whispered harshly.

Clara remained unmoved. Her tear-reddened eyes never left Zachary.

She couldn't bring herself to believe that the man who had shared every waking moment and every sleepless night with her for five years could simply watch while she was publicly humiliated.

Zachary finally looked directly at her. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was distant and icy, showing no emotion whatsoever.

He looked at her as though they had never known each other.

After several seconds, he shifted his attention to Emily, his tone becoming noticeably gentler. "Don't let it upset you. I'll get you a new dress."

Clara's eyes trembled slightly. Eight hundred thousand dollars was an amount she could never hope to earn even after a lifetime of exhausting work, yet Zachary offered to replace the dress for another woman as casually as if it were nothing.

Then his next words came without a trace of the tenderness he had just shown Emily. "But since you made a mistake, you should apologize for it."

Something inside Clara broke cleanly at that instant.

Beside her, the supervisor continued whispering fiercely through clenched teeth. "Do you still want your salary? Then apologize now!"

Her mother was still in the hospital, dependent on medication that had to be taken every day to keep her alive. Clara couldn't lose this job.

Reality left her with no choice, and the little dignity she had left was forced beneath her feet.

She clenched her teeth against her lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

She stared at Zachary, trying to separate the heartless man before her from the warm, gentle Zack she had carried in her memories for five years.

Slowly, Clara lowered her upper body into a bow. "I'm sorry, Ms. Ford. I apologize for the milk I was carrying getting onto your dress," she said.

Then she rose again, meeting Emily's eyes without the slightest hesitation. "But you were the one who bumped into the tray. I won't accept responsibility for that."

The corridor went completely quiet.

For a brief moment, the smug smile on Emily's face froze. It quickly returned, replaced by a look of open ridicule. "Even now, you refuse to admit your mistake. Some people truly have no idea where they stand."

Zachary's gaze rested on Clara's stiff posture, and his brows drew together almost imperceptibly.

Emily immediately slipped her arm through his and complained softly, "Zachary, I don't want her around anymore. She obviously did that deliberately, and now she's pretending I was the one who caused it."

A short silence followed before Zachary turned his gaze elsewhere. "Have security escort her out."

Two guards came forward at once and seized Clara by both arms.

She offered no resistance and didn't plead with anyone. Instead, she held herself upright as the guards dragged her in the direction of the elevator.

Just before the elevator doors shut, she turned her head for one last look.

Beneath the brilliant crystal chandelier, Zachary stood with an expression as cold as stone while Emily remained nestled against him.

Together, they looked perfectly matched, as though they had always belonged beside each other.

The doors slowly closed, cutting them from her sight.

Clara rested her back against the chilled metal wall and gave a quiet, empty laugh.

Yet the moment that broken laugh escaped her, tears began streaming down her face, impossible to hold back.

The Zack she knew was already gone.

Perhaps he had disappeared the instant his memory returned and he became the Bennett family's son once again.

Night had already fallen by the time Clara arrived at her rented apartment in the old district.

She stopped in the narrow doorway and looked at the worn gray slippers near her feet.

Zachary had worn them. Faint marks from the water she had used to mop earlier that day remained on the soles.

Two plastic cups rested together on the washbasin, one blue and the other pink. The razor she had saved every spare cent to buy for him sat on the nightstand. His jacket still hung from the rack, its color faded after countless washes...

Everything in the apartment proved that Zachary had once lived there.

Still, Clara knew they could never return to what they had been.

Just then, her phone vibrated.

Clara took it out without thinking. Zachary's text appeared on the screen. "I'm meeting an important client tonight, so I probably won't be home. Get some sleep. I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

A bitter smile tugged at Clara's lips.

Was it really a client, or was he spending the night with Emily? Maybe he was with the Hopkins daughter he would soon become engaged to.

Clara had seen his betrayal herself, yet he still lied to her and carried on as though nothing had happened.

Her eyes burned as she rubbed them and wrote a brief reply. "We're done."

...

The following morning, Clara went to work at her usual time.

Reality struck sooner and far harder than she ever expected.

As soon as she reached the pharmacy, the owner stopped her at the entrance and fired her on the spot.

By noon, the restaurant owner paid her the wages she was still owed and told her to find another job.

Later that afternoon, Clara hurried to the office building and watched the cleaning supervisor remove her name from the schedule.

All three of her part-time jobs were gone by the end of the day.

Clara finally lost control and caught the supervisor by the arm. "Please be honest with me. Is someone trying to screw me over?"

After checking their surroundings, the supervisor lowered his voice. "Clara, there's nothing I can do. This order came from above. Word is that you offended Mr. Bennett last night, and everyone in the circle already knows. Hiring you now would mean standing against the Bennett family. Our company is too small to take a risk like that."

Once he finished speaking, he hurried off as though staying near Clara might drag him into the trouble.

Outside the office building, cold dread swept through Clara.

Zachary hadn't only lied and cheated. Now he was shutting her out of work-stripping away her only means of survival.

Anger had barely begun to rise inside her when her phone started ringing insistently.

The screen showed the number of the local clinic in her hometown.

Clara's chest tightened, and she answered at once.

"Clara, the toxins in your mother's system have flared up again. She's been suffering all night, and the dehydration is severe," said the familiar nurse in a panicked voice. "The doctor needs to give her the Vital Cardiac Tonic immediately, or she won't survive!"

Clara's throat tightened. "I'll get the medicine right away! Please keep her stable until then!"

Several years ago, Clara's grandfather had competed against a rival for the presidency of the Medical Association. The opponent couldn't defeat him fairly, so he poisoned the family's well.

Resentment followed her grandfather to his death. Her father survived for only another three years before he also passed away.

Her mother was the only one left. She had consumed the smallest amount of poison, but it had damaged her health beyond recovery.

Each flare-up still required an expensive imported medicine to save her.

The moment the call ended, Clara opened her banking app and checked the balance.

Vital Cardiac Tonic cost eight thousand dollars per vial. Her account held only three thousand.

Her wages of eight thousand dollars had arrived just the day before yesterday. But Zachary had told her his startup lacked enough initial funding. She hadn't hesitated before sending him every cent.

Clara clenched her teeth, found his number, and called it.

No one picked up. The phone rang until the call was sent to voicemail.

After taking a deep breath, she tried again.

Someone finally answered on her fifth attempt.

Clara hurriedly said, "Zack, about the money I sent you the day before yesterday..."

"Ms. Lambert, stop calling Mr. Bennett!" An impatient young man answered instead of Zachary. "Now that you know his real identity, learn your place and quit hanging on to him. He's having dinner with Ms. Ford. He doesn't have time for some woman trying to use him to climb the social ladder."

"I'm not chasing after him. I need my money back!" Clara shouted into the phone, unable to stop her voice from shaking. "My mom needs it to stay alive! Tell him to return it!"

The young man ignored her and ended the call.

At the noisy intersection, Clara stood still. Every sound seemed to slip away, as if her world had gone mute.

For five years, she had taken good care of Zachary with everything she had. She never imagined he could be this ruthless. His cruelty cut into her like a blade.

Clara had been twenty when she discovered Zachary in the hills behind the village while gathering herbs. Blood covered him, and he could barely breathe. She carried him home and remained awake for three days to keep him from dying.

When he regained consciousness, he claimed that he couldn't remember anything, and she trusted him. Clara promised to support him. His eyes were red when he swore that he would treat her well for the rest of his life.

When he said he wanted to move to Ozleley to start a business, she followed him. She worked three part-time jobs a day and handed over every penny she earned.

Clara had given him everything he wanted without refusing him once.

Years of saving and sacrifice had gone into the love she offered him, yet he had only seen her as a convenient distraction during a difficult period in his life.

Rage shook through Clara as she fought to keep her tears from falling.

She made herself a promise. If she ever wasted another cent on a man, she would be the biggest idiot alive.

For now, however, she still needed another five thousand dollars to pay for her mother's medicine.

Clara steadied herself with a deep breath, searched for Brenda Smith's number, and called her.

Brenda worked as a fixer for expensive private gigs and knew people across a wide network.

The call had barely connected when Brenda spoke coldly. "After offending Mr. Bennett, you actually thought calling me was a good idea? There's no way I'm finding you another gig."

Clara held the phone tighter and pleaded with her, "Brenda, what happened last night was a mistake. I know I put you in a bad position, but I'm desperate for money. Please help me one last time. I don't care how exhausting the job is. I'll take anything."

Silence lingered on the line before Brenda finally gave in. "I might have something that pays quickly. The client is looking for a contract wife for three years. He wants someone discreet who understands boundaries and can take care of him. Think it over carefully-can you actually do this job? I can't have you causing trouble for me again."

Clara shut her eyes.

Nothing remained for her. Zachary had already ground her dignity into the dirt, and she refused to lose her mom as well.

"I'll do it!" she exclaimed.