Jilted Wife: The Billionaire's Contract Bride

The screen of her phone cast a sickly blue light on Chloe Burgess's face, illuminating the blood draining from it. The device felt unnaturally heavy in her trembling hand as she scrolled through the relentless barrage of images that had just flooded her inbox.

In the first photo, her husband, Jereme Elliott, was kissing her stepsister, Ericka Carey, inside the sleek interior of the Mercedes she had co-signed for him. It wasn't a fleeting, accidental peck. It was a deep, passionate kiss, his hand tangled in Ericka's blonde hair, their bodies pressed together with a desperate urgency. The second photo showed them wrapped in a tight embrace at the very top of the Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica Pier-a place Chloe had begged him to take her for their anniversary. The third was even more damning: them walking hand-in-hand through the snow-dusted streets of Aspen, a ski trip he had claimed was an "exclusive boys-only corporate retreat."

Her fingers turned to ice.

Ten years together. Three years of marriage. She thought they were the perfect couple, the envy of their elite social circle. They had built E&C Holdings from the ground up, their names intertwined in both love and business.

She was three months pregnant. The morning sickness had been brutal, leaving her drained and exhausted, and she had only just woken from a much-needed nap to find this horrific "gift" from an anonymous number.

A wave of nausea rose in her throat, but it wasn't from the pregnancy. She swallowed it down, her nails digging into her palms, the sharp pain a welcome anchor in a world that was suddenly tilting off its axis.

No, she thought, her mind scrambling for a rational explanation. This has to be a trick. In today's digital age, deepfakes and photoshopped images were child's play for anyone with a grudge. Today was the highly anticipated ninth anniversary of E&C Holdings. It was entirely possible that a rival corporation was trying to sabotage their pristine public image right before the massive gala she had spent months planning.

Refusing to let panic dictate her actions, Chloe forced herself out of bed. She washed her face, applied a layer of foundation to hide her pallor, and grabbed her car keys. She needed to get to the office before 3:00 PM to do a final walkthrough of the anniversary venue. More importantly, she needed to look Jereme in the eye and hear him deny it.

The drive to the corporate headquarters was a blur. Traffic was surprisingly light, but her thoughts were a chaotic traffic jam of memories and doubts. When she finally arrived at the towering glass skyscraper, she bypassed the bustling event coordinators on the ground floor and took the private elevator straight to the executive suite.

The hallway was quiet, most of the staff already downstairs preparing for the event. As she approached Jereme's corner office, she noticed the heavy oak door was slightly ajar. She reached out to push it open, but her hand froze in mid-air.

From within the office, the unmistakable sound of a woman's low, breathy moan drifted through the crack. It was followed by the heavy, ragged breathing of a man.

"Jereme... you're so good," Ericka's voice, usually sweet and cloying, now dripped with a raw, uninhibited lust. "God, I'm melting. I know sharing a man with my stepsister is completely taboo, but I just can't help it. I'm too addicted to your body."

Chloe's feet rooted to the plush carpet. Her blood turned to slush in her veins. She felt as though she had been struck by lightning, the shock paralyzing her vocal cords.

"You're the only one I want," Jereme's voice rasped, accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"But what about her?" Ericka panted. "What if she finds out the truth? What if she realizes the IVF baby she's carrying isn't a mix of her and you, but actually our embryo? If she finds out she's just a surrogate for our child, she'll try to kill me!"

Chloe stopped breathing. The world around her seemed to disintegrate into static.

Their embryo?

Jereme's soothing voice followed, laced with a cruel amusement that made Chloe's stomach violently clench. "Let her try. If she dares to make a scene, I'll divorce her and make her crawl to you on her knees, begging for forgiveness. But don't worry, baby, it won't come to that. She's terrified of the pain of childbirth, but she's doing it because she thinks it's ours. Once she delivers our baby, I'll initiate the hostile takeover of Burgess Industries. I'll bankrupt her family and hand their legacy to you as a wedding gift. Then, you'll be the only queen of the elite circle, and she won't even have the right to scrub your floors."

The sheer malice in his words was a physical blow. The IVF was a lie. The grueling hormone injections, the emotional rollercoaster, the brutal morning sickness-it was all a calculated scheme. She was nothing but a vessel, an incubator they had tricked into carrying their child.

Suddenly, a memory from three years ago flashed in her mind with sickening clarity. It was their wedding night. A massive storm had hit the city. Jereme had received a frantic call, claiming his best man had been in a terrible car crash. He had rushed out in the pouring rain, leaving Chloe alone in her wedding dress. Even after he supposedly returned from the hospital, he had spent the next week obsessively checking his phone, claiming he was worried about his friend.

Now, the truth was glaringly obvious. He hadn't been at the hospital. He had been with Ericka. He had always been with Ericka.

Rage, cold and sharp, finally sliced through the fog of shock and grief. The ten years of love and devotion she had poured into this man turned to ash in her mouth. She was not an incubator to be discarded. She was not a stepping stone for their twisted romance.

She didn't storm in. She didn't scream. She didn't give them the satisfaction of witnessing her break.

Instead, she moved like a ghost, backing away from the door, her designer heels silent on the runner. She retreated to the private executive washroom down the hall and locked the door. Leaning heavily against the marble sink, she stared at her pale reflection.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen as she searched for the nearest private abortion clinic. She would not bring this child into the world. She would not suffer another day for these monsters.

Just as her thumb hovered over the 'book appointment' button, her phone vibrated violently. It was the same anonymous number that had sent the photos.

A single text message appeared on the screen.

"Before you do something irreversible, you should know the truth. The child you are carrying does not belong to Jereme Elliott or Ericka Carey. The real father is someone ten thousand times more powerful."

Chloe's pupils contracted.

Below the text was a name: Blace Salinas. And a phone number.

Blace Salinas. The name struck her like a physical blow. He was the undisputed head of the Salinas Group, a titan of global industry. He was a man who existed only in legends, exclusive boardrooms, and the pages of the Wall Street Journal, known for his ruthless efficiency, staggering wealth, and absolute, impenetrable privacy.

It had to be a prank. A sick, twisted joke.

But the photos had been real. The conversation she had just overheard was real. Her entire life was a lie.

Her hand trembled as it hovered over the number. She needed the truth, no matter how absurd or terrifying it might be. She pressed call.

The phone was answered on the first ring. A deep, magnetic voice spoke, the sound vibrating through the speaker with an authority that commanded instant submission.

"Chloe Burgess."

The sound of her name, spoken with such definitive coolness, sent a shiver down her spine.

She took a deep breath, forcing her own voice to remain steady. "This is she. Who is this?"

A beat of silence.

Then, the voice returned, devoid of any hesitation. "I am the biological father of the child you are currently carrying. The Plaza Hotel, top-floor penthouse suite. Ten o'clock tomorrow morning. We need to talk."

He didn't give her a chance to respond, to question, or to argue. The line went dead.

Chloe stared at the phone, the dial tone buzzing in her ear. Her world was already in ruins, reduced to rubble by the man she had loved. And now, standing in the ashes, she was facing a new, terrifying earthquake.

Thirty minutes later, Chloe stepped into the dimly lit, hyper-exclusive interior of The Obsidian Club. The sheer opulence of the private establishment, with its dark mahogany paneling and thick, sound-absorbing carpets, felt worlds away from the shattered reality of her own life. She felt as though the world had truly gone mad. The man sitting inside Private Room Three was Blace Salinas-the ruthless CEO who dominated the financial magazines and was consistently voted the city's most eligible, untouchable bachelor. And he was claiming to be the father of her child?

She hadn't slept a single wink. Every time she closed her eyes, the sickening audio of Jereme and Ericka's office tryst played on a loop in her mind. But a meticulous, armor-like application of makeup concealed the dark circles under her eyes and the pale shock of her skin. She wore a structured, slate-grey Chanel suit, its sharp lines serving as a fragile barrier against the emotional turmoil threatening to consume her.

As she walked into the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the man sitting on the custom leather sofa. He was dressed in a dark navy bespoke suit that fit his broad, powerfully built frame flawlessly. His legs were crossed at the knee, and he was casually reading through a stack of financial documents. Even seated and silent, his presence was overwhelming, filling the room with a heavy, dominating, alpha energy that demanded absolute submission.

At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up.

His eyes were a startling, deep blue-as sharp, cold, and fathomless as a winter lake. They locked onto hers, and for a second, Chloe felt as though he could see straight through her carefully constructed facade, right down to her fractured soul.

This was Blace Salinas.

Her heart skipped a dangerous beat. She had spent the last decade navigating rooms full of powerful, wealthy men, but none of them possessed an aura quite like his. It was the aura of a man who didn't just play the game; he owned the board.

"Ms. Burgess," he said, his voice the same calm, low-frequency rumble she had heard on the phone. He gestured gracefully to the plush armchair opposite him. "Please, sit."

He had called her Ms. Burgess, not Mrs. Elliott. The distinction was a deliberate, calculated cut, severing her from Jereme before they had even begun to speak.

Trevor Stone, his imposing executive assistant, placed a glass of sparkling water on the table beside her, then retreated to the far corner of the room, blending into the shadows.

Chloe sat, keeping her back ramrod straight, refusing to sink into the cushions. "Mr. Salinas, I don't understand any of this. The text message, the phone call... about my child. How is this even possible?"

Blace leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "First of all, Ms. Burgess, let me assure you of one thing: we have never shared a bed. There is no need for you to look at me with such absolute terror."

His bluntness caught her off guard, causing a slight flush to creep up her neck.

Before she could formulate a reply, Blace slid a thick, leather-bound folder across the polished mahogany coffee table. "Read this first. It will answer your immediate questions."

Chloe opened the folder. The first page was a certified DNA report from one of the most exclusive private labs in the country. The second section was a meticulously detailed investigative file regarding the fertility clinic she and Jereme had used.

The DNA results were unequivocal: a 99.99% parental probability match between the fetal DNA and Blace Salinas.

The investigation report was even more chilling, reading like a corporate espionage thriller. It laid out Jereme's entire scheme: he had bribed a senior lab technician to swap Chloe's fertilized embryo with the embryo he had secretly created with Ericka. However, the corrupt technician had made a catastrophic error. In his haste, he had grabbed the wrong vial from the cryogenic storage. He had selected a sample belonging to Blace Salinas-a sample that had been stored years ago prior to a minor medical procedure and was supposed to be heavily guarded.

Jereme and Ericka thought they had successfully implanted their own child into Chloe's womb. Instead, they had unwittingly detonated a ticking time bomb by stealing the heir of the Salinas empire.

Every piece of the nightmare clicked into place. Even though she was relieved she wasn't carrying the twisted spawn of her husband and stepsister, her mood didn't improve. Chloe's fingers grew ice-cold as she stared at the pages. Her entire life, her body, her future-all of it had been manipulated and violated without her knowledge.

Blace watched her in silence, his unwavering blue gaze giving her the space to absorb the devastating blow.

Finally, she closed the folder and looked up. The vulnerability and shock in her green eyes were gone, replaced by an icy, hardened resolve. "Let's be frank, Mr. Salinas. You have your answers. Now, what is it that you want from me?"

A flicker of something-genuine approval, perhaps-crossed his handsome face. "I require an heir. My grandmother's health is failing, and the family trust dictates certain requirements regarding my lineage. This child is my first. The Salinas bloodline does not get left to chance, nor does it grow up outside of my household."

"And so?" Chloe pressed, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart.

"I want you to marry me," he stated simply, as if he were discussing the acquisition of a tech startup. "I know you are facing betrayal and a messy divorce. If you agree to be my contract wife and give birth to my child, I am willing to inject one hundred million dollars to save the currently failing Burgess Industries and help you turn the tables."

Chloe stared at him for a long moment, then let out a short, bitter laugh. "You people are truly fascinating. Marrying you? This is absolutely out of the-"

"Ms. Burgess," Blace interrupted, his voice dropping to a commanding, authoritative register as he tapped his index finger against the mahogany table. "Before you make a decision, you should think carefully about whether your solitary courage is enough to withstand the sheer amount of losses you are about to face."

His words hit their mark. She was surrounded by enemies. If she lost anything else, she truly wouldn't be able to bear it. Chloe closed her eyes, running through every possible scenario in her mind. Finally, she made her choice.

"In one month, after the mandatory waiting period for my divorce is over, we will get the marriage certificate."

"No problem," Blace replied, looking as though he had anticipated her surrender all along. "One month from today. I will see you at City Hall, my fiancée."

Even though his tone was perfectly level, Chloe swore she heard a faint trace of intimacy in the word 'fiancée'. She didn't linger to analyze it, standing up abruptly and leaving the club, completely unaware of the intense, predatory gaze Blace kept fixed on her retreating back.

Chloe used the quickest possible time to draft her divorce papers and her formal resignation letter. Carrying a stack of other routine corporate files, she drove back to the E&C headquarters and knocked sharply on the door to Jereme's office.

As she pushed the door open, she caught them instantly. Jereme was hastily shoving Ericka away from his lap, his hands fumbling to pull up the slightly unzipped front of his tailored trousers.

"What is so urgent that you just barge in?" Jereme snapped, his face flushed. "Don't forget this is a corporate environment. You need to follow the rules."

Chloe completely ignored his hypocritical reprimand. Under the watchful eyes of the cheating pair, she walked straight to his desk and dumped the entire stack of files in front of him. "Urgent documents. I need your signature before I can deploy the next phase of the project."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ericka adjusting her blouse, deliberately pulling the collar down to reveal a fresh, angry cluster of red hickeys on her neck, her lips curling into a provocative smirk.

These two really had stamina, Chloe thought with clinical disgust. Weren't they afraid of dropping dead from exhaustion?

As Jereme reached for the files, Chloe's gaze shifted between him and her stepsister.

"I didn't notice earlier," Chloe said, her voice perfectly flat. "Why is my sister here in your office during working hours?"

Her question made Jereme's hand pause over the documents. As if to cover up his intense guilt, he grabbed his Montblanc pen and began aggressively signing his name on every single file without reading a single word.

"Ericka said she's been having terrible nightmares lately," Jereme lied smoothly, not meeting Chloe's eyes. "You know I've been doing a lot of physical and mental therapy sessions recently, so I know a bit about counseling. I was just having a brief session with her to help calm her nerves."

Before his ridiculous excuse even finished echoing in the room, he had already signed the last document.

Chloe sneered internally. She seamlessly gathered the freshly signed files, holding them against her chest. "Well then, please continue your 'therapy'. I have work to do."

Back in college, she had been his dedicated assistant when he was the student body president, organizing his events, writing his proposals, and summarizing his reports. Now, in the corporate world, she was the most dedicated, professional chief secretary in the eyes of everyone at E&C Holdings. Usually, when she handed Jereme files, he would at least skim them before signing. But today, he hadn't even glanced at them.

The resignation of a chief secretary required the CEO's signature. A divorce petition required his signature.

Chloe looked down at the two crucial documents, now bearing his flamboyant signature, and felt a complex wave of emotions. The sacrifices she had made over the past decade had truly been fed to the dogs.

She walked straight to the HR department and handed in her resignation letter.

The HR director was visibly shocked, but upon seeing Jereme's undeniable signature at the bottom of the page, he swallowed all his questions. "Ms. Burgess, we will immediately post a public listing for a new chief secretary. We'll have to trouble you for the transition period."

"The handover will take exactly one month," Chloe replied professionally. "If you can't find an external candidate by then, you'll have to promote from within."

She shook her head as she walked away. She knew exactly who in the company was actually capable of handling her workload, and it certainly wasn't anyone Jereme favored.

Returning to her desk, Chloe let out a long breath. The thought of no longer being entangled in this sickening relationship made her feel infinitely lighter.

Just as she booted up her computer, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was an address for an ultra-exclusive luxury high-rise on the Upper East Side.

"Fiancée, move in here," Blace's text read. "You are pregnant and require proper care. I will see you in exactly one month."

One month. Exactly the day her mandatory divorce waiting period would end. She was absolutely going through with this divorce.

Meanwhile, inside the CEO's office, Jereme sat frozen in his leather executive chair. His eyes were fixed on the door Chloe had just walked through, completely ignoring Ericka, who was repeatedly calling his name.

Chloe's swift, strictly business-like demeanor felt deeply wrong to him. Suddenly, Ericka's face appeared right in his line of sight, her expression twisted with annoyance at being ignored.

"Jereme, what are you thinking about?" she pouted.

He pursed his lips, taking a long moment to reply. "Nothing."

In the past, if Ericka had complained about feeling unwell, Chloe would have been far more anxious and attentive than he was. But today, Chloe hadn't seemed to care about Ericka's condition at all. She hadn't even looked at him for more than a few seconds. In all their years together, this was the very first time she had treated him with such absolute indifference. But his narcissistic brain quickly dismissed it, and his attention was easily pulled back to Ericka's whining.

Later that afternoon, Chloe returned to their shared suburban mansion. The sprawling house was filled with memories of their life together, but now, it all just felt suffocating. She instructed the maids to pack up all of her personal belongings.

"Ma'am, should we move these boxes to the storage unit?" one of the maids asked, gesturing to the designer clothes and jewelry Jereme had bought her.

"No. Throw it all in the trash," Chloe ordered coldly.

She sat in the living room, sipping a cup of Earl Grey tea. Beside her sat two modest suitcases-the only things she was taking with her. The tainted items belonged in the garbage. She had already instructed the driver to load the suitcases into the car, planning to leave as soon as she finished her tea.

Suddenly, the front door swung open.

"Sister, who told you to drink tea?" Ericka's shrill voice echoed through the foyer. "You're pregnant! You shouldn't be touching things that are bad for the baby!"

Ericka marched forward, aggressively reaching out to snatch the delicate bone china teacup right out of Chloe's hands. But Chloe's grip was steady, and Ericka failed to grab it on her first violent attempt.

Just as Ericka braced herself to yank it away forcefully, Chloe casually flipped her wrist, splashing the hot tea directly into Ericka's face.

Before Ericka could even scream, Chloe threw her hands up in an exaggerated gesture of innocence. "Oops. I'm so sorry, sister. My hand just slipped. Ever since I got pregnant, I've had absolutely no strength in my arms. I can't even hold a cup steady. Honestly, maybe I should just go to the clinic and abort this troublesome baby."

"No!" Ericka shrieked, her face dripping with brown liquid. To her, the baby was far more important than a splashed face. "Sister, a baby is a living life! You can't joke about something like that!"