Married To My Best Friend's Billionaire Father

A spike of pain hammered behind Chloe's eyes, but it was nothing compared to the sickening jolt of memory that slammed into her the second she woke up. She hadn't just slept with a stranger. She had spent the night tangled in the sheets with Alistair Sterling-her best friend Izzy's father.

Then, blinding sunlight sliced through a gap in the curtains, a blade of heat across her face. She groaned, a dry rasp in the crushing silence. The effort to lift a hand to shield her eyes sent a fresh tremor of agony through her skull.

She forced her eyelids open.

This was not her apartment.

The room was a vast, sterile study in gray, black, and chrome. A single, aggressive slash of abstract art hung on a concrete wall. The air was crisp and cold, smelling of cedar and soap that cost more than her rent. Nothing was familiar. Nothing was hers.

She shifted, and a deep, muscular ache seized her body. The fog in her head broke completely, replaced by burning, hyper-vivid flashes of last night. Izzy hadn't lied when she'd bragged about her father's intense presence, but Chloe had never expected to experience it firsthand. Alistair had come home reeking of expensive scotch. When she had tried to help him to the master bathroom to wash up, the atmosphere had abruptly shifted. He had pinned her against the cold marble of the vanity, his gaze dark and starving, looking at her like a man who hadn't touched a woman in years. His movements had been fiercely possessive, his usually severe mouth claiming hers with a raw, bruising heat. He had pressed her down, taking her apart piece by piece until all her polite restraint shattered into breathless moans.

The blood drained from her face. Alistair Sterling. Thirty-six to her twenty-two. A reserved, incredibly handsome figure in a tailored suit who usually looked at her with detached politeness. But last night, the machine had glitched. A shameful heat crept up her neck as she remembered how her own instincts, drowned in tequila, had eagerly answered his aggressive demands.

She squeezed her eyes shut, a useless gesture against reality. Izzy. Oh, God, Izzy. What had she done?

She scrambled to sit up, clutching the impossibly smooth silk sheet to her chest. The other side of the king-sized bed was empty, the pillows pristine, but his scent lingered in the cold air.

Her traitorous mind supplied the exact reason she'd been drowning herself in tequila last night. Abe Hays. The memory of his cruel smirk cut through her hangover like glass, replacing the numbness with a sharp, burning humiliation.

Just two weeks ago, he had erased their ten years together in a matter of minutes.

After her parents died, the Hays family had taken her in, and she had spent a decade propping Abe up, quietly assuming they were building a future together.

But when it came time to secure a corporate merger, he had discarded her for Sloane Knight without a second thought.

He hadn't even given her the dignity of a private breakup. He had done it in his office, with Sloane practically sitting on his lap, looking at Chloe as if she were a beggar intruding on their space. "Don't make a scene, Chloe. It's pathetic," Abe had sneered, his voice dripping with condescension when she demanded an explanation. "My family took you in out of pity. You were a convenient little plaything, a charity case I kept around out of habit. Did you honestly believe I'd marry a broke orphan when I can have Sloane? You should be on your knees thanking me for letting you warm my bed all these years."

The sheer, gaslighting cruelty of it, combined with Sloane's mocking laughter as she advised Chloe to "pack her cheap bags and know her place," had shattered her completely. Driven by a fierce, bleeding pride, Chloe had walked out that very hour, leaving behind the only home she knew. Half a month had passed, and Abe hadn't reached out once.

A vibration on the nightstand made her jump. Her phone. With a trembling hand, she reached for it. The screen lit up with a message from Izzy.

Chlo, you awake? Don't freak out. I've got you!

A frantic pulse beat against her ribs. Before she could type, a second message appeared. A picture. Two small, red booklets with a golden eagle embossed on the front, side-by-side on polished wood. Marriage certificates.

The text below it read: Ta-da! Congratulations, Mrs. Chloe Sterling! You're officially my mommy now!

The phone felt slick in her numb fingers. Chloe Sterling. The name was alien. Obscene. The air in the room was too thick to breathe. She remembered Izzy, laughing, pouring another shot. My dad needs a wife, you need a home. It's perfect! Chloe had thought it was a joke.

A soft, polite knock sounded at the door.

"Mrs. Sterling?" a woman's voice called, calm and professional. "Good morning. My name is Helen Price, the estate manager. The movers have been dispatched to your old apartment. They estimate they will have your belongings here within the hour."

Mrs. Sterling.

Movers.

Your old apartment.

Each phrase was a nail hammered into place. The phone slipped from her grasp, landing without a sound on the thick rug. She stared at the closed door, her mind a perfect, roaring blank. This was happening.

The phone buzzed again on the floor. Izzy was calling. Chloe stared at it, her chest tight with a toxic mix of fury and helplessness. She was homeless, jobless, alone. Alistair Sterling was a cold, intimidating man, but he wouldn't hurt her. He was vastly superior to Abe in every way, a powerful man who could offer her the ultimate shield. He couldn't be worse than the smiling cruelty of the Hays family.

Izzy's voice, when Chloe finally answered, was bright and utterly unapologetic.

"Don't worry, Chlo! My dad is handsome, rich, and never home. Where else are you going to find a deal that good? All you have to do is spend his money and piss off that scumbag Abe!"

The words were insane. But in the wreckage of her mind, they planted a tiny, twisted seed. She had nothing left to lose.

A deep, shuddering breath. Another. She picked up the phone. Her fingers felt like a stranger's as she typed a single, two-letter reply to Izzy.

OK.

The housekeeper knocked again, her voice serene.

"Mrs. Sterling, the head of the moving company is downstairs at your old building. He needs to confirm a few details with you."

It was real. She was Mrs. Sterling. And her old life was already being packed into boxes.

Chloe stopped under the archway of her new bedroom, the sheer scale of the space stealing the air from her lungs. It wasn't a room; it was a wing. The ceilings soared. One entire wall was glass, overlooking a manicured garden that stretched into the horizon. The bed was larger than her entire old apartment. A genuine Rothko hung on the wall.

Her hands stayed at her sides, afraid to touch anything.

She ran a hand over the cool marble of the fireplace mantel, her fingers tracing the gray veins in the stone. Alistair Sterling is Izzy's father, she repeated to herself, a desperate mantra. He's an elder. The thought was meant to ground her, but it only sent a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks.

Her phone vibrated on an antique vanity. A text from an unknown number.

I'm at the office. Helen will assist you with anything you need.-Alistair

No greeting. No name. Just a statement of fact. As cold and efficient as the man himself. She stared at the signature, a strange flutter in her stomach that she immediately crushed.

Before she could process it, her phone rang. Izzy.

"Chlo! Lifesaver needed! My thesis advisor just called a surprise meeting, but I'm stuck on campus. Can you come get me?"

"I don't have a car, Izzy," Chloe said, the reminder a dull ache. Abe's fiancée, Sloane, had "accidentally" backed into her beat-up Ford last week, totaling it. Another small cruelty.

She hadn't told Izzy the whole story of last night. And she certainly didn't know Izzy's "emergency" was a complete fabrication.

"Use my dad's car, silly!" Izzy said. "The garage is full of them. The keys are in a bowl by the entrance. Helen knows."

Ten minutes later, Helen Price, with an unnervingly serene smile, led Chloe to a door that opened into a high-end car dealership. A row of gleaming machines sat under spotlights. A Ferrari. A Lamborghini. A classic Porsche. Nausea surged. Her eyes scanned the lineup and landed on the most subdued option: a sleek, black Bentley. It still felt like a spaceship.

Sliding into the driver's seat, she was enveloped in rich leather and profound silence. The engine started with a low, confident purr, a world away from the rattling cough of her old Ford. She gripped the smooth, cool steering wheel. She hated the easy seduction of this wealth, the way it whispered that everything would be okay. But the solid, powerful machine around her felt safe.

This is what Abe owes me, she thought, a bitter justification. This and more.

She pulled up in front of Izzy's department building, the Bentley's quiet elegance drawing stares. Izzy burst out of the doors, throwing her arms around Chloe in a hug before she could even get out. Then, with a theatrical flourish, Izzy dropped into a low curtsy on the sidewalk.

"Mommy, your royal chariot awaits!"

A few nearby students stopped, their expressions a mixture of shock and undisguised gossip.

"Izzy!" Chloe hissed, her face burning.

Izzy hopped into the passenger seat. "What's the big deal? You are Mrs. Sterling. My new, legally certified mommy!"

She leaned over, her expression turning conspiratorial. "Besides, Dad laid down the law this morning. My future credit card limit is directly proportional to your daily happiness index. So, Mommy, are you happy today?"

Chloe stared at her. This wasn't a prank. It was a strategy. Alistair had made Chloe the gatekeeper to Izzy's lifestyle.

"So," Izzy said, eyes sparkling with mischief, "for the sake of future Chanel and Hermès, you need to absolutely fleece my father. Make him spoil you rotten."

Izzy kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. She vividly remembered a disastrous night two years ago when an entitled frat boy had relentlessly harassed her at a club. Chloe had fiercely intervened, taking a hard shove into a table to protect her. Within a week, that frat boy was mysteriously expelled, and his family's logistics company lost all their contracts with Sterling Enterprises, forcing them to relocate to another state in disgrace. Her dad had been terrifyingly furious at Izzy, freezing her accounts and forcing her to do a month of hard community service for "endangering an innocent bystander." But the day her punishment ended, he had wired fifty thousand dollars into her account with a single directive: "Take your friend shopping." When he had casually mentioned needing a marriage of convenience with "someone familiar and trustworthy" to stabilize his corporate image, Izzy had immediately connected the dots. Her dad wasn't just making a random choice; he had been silently watching and protecting Chloe for years.

A laugh escaped Chloe, genuine this time. It was absurd, manipulative, and somehow, exactly what she needed. The weight in her chest lightened. Maybe she could play this game.

She navigated the expensive car through campus, terrified of scratching it. Could she ever get used to this?

As she approached the main gate, a figure stepped out from between two parked cars, directly into their path.

Chloe's heart stopped.

Abe Hays. His face was a thundercloud, his eyes fixed on her with a dark, possessive glint that made the hair on her arms stand up.

Her hands tightened on the wheel.

"Oh, great," Izzy muttered. "What a foul omen."

Chloe's first instinct was to slam the car into reverse, but it was too late. He was already walking towards her window.

"So, spill. Where did you actually stay last night?"

Izzy stirred her latte with too much vigor. They'd shaken Abe by simply driving away, his shocked face receding in the rearview mirror. Now, in a campus coffee shop booth, the interrogation began.

"Your father's estate," Chloe said, her voice low. She focused on unwrapping a sugar packet.

"Oh? And he didn't have you thrown out?" Izzy's eyes were wide with fake surprise. "My dad is more rigid than a church pew. He doesn't even let me into his bedroom."

Chloe knew it was an act, but it was a good one.

Izzy leaned forward suddenly, her eyes narrowing. "What's that? Did a mosquito get you?"

She pointed to a spot just above the collar of Chloe's turtleneck.

Chloe's hand flew to her neck. Her face erupted in a hot, uncontrollable blush. A faint, reddish-purple mark, exactly where Alistair's mouth had been.

Izzy's eyes lit up. "Oh. My. God," she whispered, her voice a mix of awe and glee. "You and my dad... you actually slept together?"

The shame was a physical weight. Chloe managed a tiny, miserable nod, wishing the floor would swallow her.

Instead of disgust, Izzy slammed her hand on the table, rattling the cups. "Yes! Chloe, you legend! I knew you could do it!"

"We were both drunk," Chloe mumbled.

"Don't explain! Explanations are just excuses in fancy clothes!" Izzy's grin was wide and triumphant. "That, my friend, is your badge of honor. A medal for conquering Mount Sterling!"

As if on cue, Izzy's phone buzzed. The screen read: Dad.

Izzy's eyes gleamed. She answered and hit the speakerphone button. Alistair's deep, calm voice filled the small space.

"Izzy, are you with Chloe?"

"Yup!" Izzy chirped. "I was just about to take my poor, new mommy to pick out a proper wedding ring! You can't seriously expect her to walk around with a naked finger, can you? It's bad for your brand."

A beat of silence. Chloe held her breath.

"My card is with my assistant," Alistair said, his voice flat. "There is no limit."

Izzy winked at Chloe, a look of pure victory, before ending the call.

"See?" she said, leaning back. "Conquer him, and you conquer the world."

Chloe stared at her friend. The knot of guilt in her stomach loosened. Maybe this wasn't a disaster. Maybe it was an opportunity. Alistair, for all his coldness, was responsible. He was generous. He was a million miles from Abe's smooth words and empty promises. For the first time since waking up, she felt a flicker of something other than dread.

"Come on!" Izzy was already sliding out of the booth. "Fifth Avenue awaits! We're hitting Cartier, Tiffany's, Harry Winston... all of them!"

She grabbed Chloe's hand and pulled her to her feet. "And we are getting the biggest, most ridiculously expensive one we can find," she whispered as they headed for the door. "It's the only way to make my dad feel like he got a good deal."

A ring. A symbol of a marriage she'd stumbled into. It was insane. But as Izzy dragged her towards the Bentley, Chloe thought maybe a little insanity was exactly what she needed.