Mommy is back! The Substitute Wife

Chantelle found herself utterly bewildered, completely losing track of time in what was meant to be her sanctuary, but felt more like a prison cell.

The dimly lit room reverberated with an eerie echo, every sound bouncing off its cold, unforgiving walls. She couldn't even remember how she had ended up here, bound to a heartless, merciless monster who showed no ounce of mercy. This man seemed to have been chiseled from a block of ice, with a heart as bitter and unfeeling as the stone floor beneath them.

Despite being deeply in love with him, she knew better than to underestimate his dangerous predator instincts and yearned to wake up from this horrifying nightmare.

"Chantelle," he called out to her in a hushed voice from behind the closed door, his words dripping with a velvety and slick whisper that sliced through the silence of the room, "open the door."

Her heart raced as she cautiously approached the door, her trembling fingers reaching for the handle.

It felt as if time had frozen, trapping her in this moment with just two individuals – her and the heartless billionaire on the other side.

With a slow and deliberate motion, she opened the door, the creaking sound piercing through the stillness, her breath held in anticipation.

A shiver ran down her spine the instant their eyes locked, and she felt her throat constrict. His stony expression oozed with such disdain that it made her feel as insignificant as a grain of sand beneath his feet.

She dropped her head and asked in a quivering voice, "I-Is there anything you need?"

Gripping the edge of her sleeveless shirt tightly, she anxiously awaited his response, feeling a mix of fear and anxiety filling the room. However, he remained silent, causing her anticipation to grow.

As the seconds ticked by, her mind raced and her nose twitched at the metallic scent in the air.

Suddenly, her eyes widened in horror as she noticed faint bloodstains on his elegant suit.

In that moment, she felt frozen like a statue, overwhelmed by fear and shock. But then, reality crashed down on her like an avalanche, prompting her to exclaim, "You're bleeding!"

Timidly, she reached out to touch his side, but before her hand could make contact, he forcefully pushed her away.

"I never gave you permission," he growled, slowly lifting his head and wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Remove your hands from me."

His disgust was evident in every word he spoke.

Terrified by his actions, she was unable to form the words she wanted. Instead, she responded to him with a soft voice. "But your wound-"

"No matter what I do, it is none of your concern!" He cruelly cut her off, making it clear that her feelings meant nothing to him.

Clutching the hem of her shirt, she fought back tears.

"Then why did you bring me here?" she whispered, already knowing the answer deep down. Her fear slowly turned into apprehension as she looked up at him. "If this was the same thing I was running away from, why bother helping me? You could have just let them take me again. Just give me to the debt collector again."

With a heavy sigh, he turned his gaze towards her and spoke in a low, ominous voice. "Chantelle, you mustn't think like that."

Anger surged through her as she stood before him, trembling.

"I can't take it anymore!" she shouted, desperately stepping away from him. "Every day I'm here, I'm just abused and tormented. What have I done to deserve this? How much more can I take?"

He looked at her with a mixture of anger and sadness in his eyes. "Chantelle-"

"GO! Just GO!" Her voice quivered, but he continued to advance towards her.

As she thought he would really leave, she realized she was wrong...

He forcefully grabbed her head, their lips colliding in a tumultuous kiss that made her feel like the world was collapsing around her.

She fought against him, desperately trying to break free from his grasp. Finally, with a cry of anguish, she managed to pull away from him.

Tears streamed down her face as her heart raced in her chest.

As she took a step back, her foot collided with something hard on the ground, causing her to stumble. Before she could regain her balance, his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her towards him, and they both crashed onto the floor.

His weight pressed down on her, pinning her wrists as she trembled beneath him. Her lips quivered, and she could only manage a faint, unsteady voice, "Please... I'm begging you..."

Despite her desperate pleas, he continued his relentless advances. His lips on hers felt like an invasion she couldn't stop. No matter how hard she fought, she was losing the battle.

She felt defeated and powerless until suddenly, he stopped.

Her hand instinctively reached for the shattered vase nearby, and she grasped a piece of jagged glass between her fingers. In one final attempt to escape his touch, she forcefully drove the sharp edge of the glass into his skin and defiantly yelled, "I said STOP!!!"

Their eyes locked, and she couldn't help but notice the wounds on his face caused by her actions. A lump formed in her throat, and she held her breath, waiting for his reaction. His eyes, filled with intoxication, briefly softened as if forgiving her. But soon after, his gaze hardened, revealing his true emotions.

He stood up, avoiding her gaze, and made his way towards the door. Just before leaving the room, he reminded her, "Remember to tend to your wound."

As she observed intently, his jaw tightened and a flicker of anger emerged in his eyes. Just as a wave of relief washed over her, thinking he was finally leaving, he abruptly slammed the door shut and vanished. Instead of finding solace, a stronger sense of guilt engulfed her.

Confusion and overwhelm consumed her as she grappled with her emotions.

Was she trapped in a never-ending nightmare, or would she eventually wake up from this dreadful dream?

Her parents had borrowed money from the unscrupulous Dwayne Salvador, only to find themselves sinking deeper into debt as their company crumbled.

When the day arrived for them to take her as payment for their debts, something unexpected occurred. Out of nowhere, Jax Rogers-the man she had believed to be her savior-appeared.

Was he truly here to rescue her and her family?

She desperately wanted to believe it, but deep down, she knew there was more to his story. He had the means to pay off her parents' debts, yet he chose to eliminate Dwayne Salvador instead.

Initially, she thought his anger stemmed from a desire to protect her. However, she soon realized that wasn't his true motivation...

Because he had something need from her.

Chantelle's eyes snapped open, and she immediately threw off the covers and jumped out of bed. The events of the previous night with Jax had left her restless, unable to sleep. She was still concerned about his well-being, especially after seeing the blood on his body.

Each step she took towards the kitchen felt heavier than usual, burdened by the image of his pale face right in front of her. It haunted her, reminding her of what could have been.

As she arrived downstairs, she noticed the eerie silence in the living room. Furrowing her brow, she realized that he might have already left for work or even gone to the hospital.

The thought struck her that she was alone.

Her gaze shifted to Jax's bedroom door, curiosity growing within her. She wondered if he was still inside, if he hadn't left yet. Despite their recent disagreements, she knew deep down that he still cared for her and wouldn't harm her physically.

Despite their daily arguments, he always returned, ensuring her safety.

Summoning her courage, she climbed the stairs and contemplated entering his room.

Eventually, she decided to turn the doorknob and push the door open, revealing a dim and empty space. She had expected this, knowing that he rarely spent time in the room except for sleeping.

Switching on the light, her eyes scanned the whole space and were immediately drawn to a picture frame on the side table.

As she stared at the photo, doubts crept into her mind. Slowly, she approached the frame, a feeling of unease washed over her.

Hoping that her initial interpretation was incorrect, she stared intently at the image. However, nothing had changed; the woman's face in the frame didn't change.

Just as she reached for it, a hand grabbed hers, preventing her from taking it away.

Then, a chilling voice spoke, "Who said you are welcome here?"

Upon hearing the voice, the delicate frame slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor, creating a deafening noise that echoed throughout the room.

Overwhelmed with panic, she stared at the wreckage in front of her, her hands trembling with regret. As she turned his attention to the man, her breath hitched as she saw his naked body was fully exposed, with a white bandage wrapped around his abdomen. He wore only black trousers, which accentuated his well-defined biceps and chest.

Although the blood had been cleaned up, there were still traces of crimson seeping from his wound. Uncertain of how he had gotten injured, she hesitated to ask him anything further, knowing he wouldn't provide an answer. He might respond with offensive remarks once again.

Meeting his gaze briefly before looking away, she noticed his focus on the broken picture frame.

Her hand remained clenched tightly into a fist, and she nervously nibbled on her lower lip to avoid any confrontation.

"Who said you can leave your room?" His emotionless tone didn't come as a surprise, as it was always like this whenever he spoke to her.

With tears threatening to fall, she looked up and tightly gripped her hands as he sneered and questioned her once more, "Do you think you'll find something if you sneak into my room?"

"That picture frame..." As she pointed to the broken picture frame, tears streamed down her face. "Is the reason you brought me here because I look like that woman?"

"Chantelle, how many times do I have to remind you? Refrain from asking pointless questions."

"Please, tell me! Why have you confined me here? It's like an invisible chain is wrapped around my neck, and I have no clue how to break f-free!" she exclaimed, her voice booming with frustration as she choked on her last word.

After that, she continued again with trembling lips and fingertips, "I-I don't even know what I did to deserve this! Why not let the debt collectors handle me instead?"

"Are you saying that you would prefer to let other men possess your body instead of staying with me?" he asked, his grin growing wider and more manic.

Chantelle was completely taken aback.

'How was it possible for me to have given my heart to such a cruel man in the past? How could I have ever loved someone so heartless?' Her heart cried.

"See?" The sharp words reverberated through the room, filling the space with an unpleasant energy. "You can't even answer because you know within yourself that without me, you mean damn nothing. You have no value now."

"So, am I to understand that my sole purpose of being alive is to serve as your slave in this house?"

"Yes-"

Jax couldn't finish his sentence because of the strong slap Chantelle gave to him.

Her hand went numb. Nonetheless, at least she relieved herself a little as she watched his body frozen, with his face turned to the side.

"You are worse than a flaming demon," she blurted through gritted teeth.

"You have the freedom to express yourself in any way you see fit, and you can address me by any name that you prefer," he said in a surprisingly calm tone. "But it's regrettable that you must obey when I command you to spread your legs."

"Are you fucking insane? Can you even hear yourself? You have locked me here with no explanation, and now you expect me to serve you solely because of your sexual desire? Ha!" She showed a contemptuous sneer and muttered with the words blowing through her teeth. "You fucking horny dick...!"

His intense gaze locked onto her, and she could feel the piercing stare of his dark eyes penetrating the depths of her soul. Despite the dim lighting in the room, it was as if he possessed the ability to decipher her every thought and emotion. Without warning, he regained his composure and drew nearer to her.

In a sudden and unexpected motion, he firmly grasped her waist and pulled her closer to him. His lips brushed against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Do you truly desire to know why I brought you here?" Each word he uttered left her feeling dizzy and light-headed.

Summoning all her strength, she pushed against his body, yearning for distance between them. With determination, she replied, "Nevermind."

Just as she was about to make her escape, he seized her arm and forcefully pulled her sideways onto the bed.

Caught off guard by his swift action, his breath lingered hotly against the back of her neck. Though she longed to meet his gaze and convey her annoyance, his grip was unyielding, rendering her immobile.

After a fleeting moment, his hand began to trail up her legs, causing a surge of warmth to course through her body, despite the room being fully air-conditioned.

"What are you doing?" she stammered, her heart racing so rapidly that her words trembled.

"Liliana Huxley," he hissed, holding her from behind and burying his face in her back, like a child yearning for his mother.

"Huh?"

"That was my late wife's name," he stated.

Chantelle remained silent, unable to formulate a response.

"She passed away from her illness," he added, keeping his face hidden behind her throughout. "I was helpless when I found her lifeless. Despite having enough wealth, I couldn't save her. That cursed cancer snatched my beloved wife from me."

"...." She remained mute.

"Upon capturing sight of your visage on the television screen, it was as though my dormant existence had been jolted back to life. I initially mistook you for my wife, for your countenance bears an uncanny resemblance to hers. Your laugh and smile mirror those of my Liliana."

"So... you brought me here because you see your wife's reflection in my face?" A sharp pain stabbed through Chantelle's chest as she realized she was nothing more than his backup plan.

She couldn't believe that the person she loved first could make her feel like his second choice.

"Yeah...The reason behind it all is solely your face."

Chantelle had no idea that tears had already trickled down her face.

"Chantelle, I'm willing to support your family in their business endeavors, but on one condition - you must promise me you won't leave me."

"Ridiculous...!" she gritted.

"I know. But I want you to stay by my side and embody the persona of Liliana. Show me she's still alive and make me believe she hasn't left me."

Chantelle's chest tightened. "Did you only see Liliana, your wife, and not Chantelle Collins, your childhood friend, when you saw me on television?"

Chantelle thought that the words he had spoken before were the most painful thing she could endure. But when he gave her the answer she was not hoping for, she realized that the pain could get even worse.

It felt as though a knife had been plunged deeper into her chest.

"Liliana has always been my choice, Chantelle. And you... you will be her replacement." His hand crawled up to her stomach. "You'll be my substitute wife."

Chantelle felt a pit in her stomach, knowing that she would be used as a replacement for the woman he truly loved.

After their conversation in his room came to an end, he swiftly fell into a deep slumber. Despite her strong desire to escape, her feet instinctively led her towards the room he had assigned for her stay.

That night, sleep eluded her as she pondered over his words. If she were to leave this place, what kind of world awaited her on the other side? She was no longer Chantelle Collins, the woman who had it all; she was now just another Chantelle Collins, destitute and burdened with a failed company.

The next day, with a sense of urgency, she rose from her seat and hurriedly made her way to his office on the third floor. Upon reaching her destination, she paused to catch her breath before proceeding to knock on the door.

Getting no response, she turned the doorknob and entered the room.

As she stepped inside, she was immediately greeted by a room adorned with bookshelves. On the other side, Jax paid no attention to her arrival and continued to focus on his work. His glasses rested on his eyes, concealing the true depth of his dark, black pupils.

As the quietness engulfed them, out of nowhere, she presented her offer. "If you promise to help my parents, I am willing to agree to any terms you suggest. And..."

He calmly raised her head and met her eyes. "And?"

Chantelle gulped and fought his captivating eyes. Slowly, Jax took off his glasses, revealing his dark and hunter-looking eyes.

The sound of his glasses being set aside echoed in the silence of the room. She couldn't help but notice the subtle yet captivating scent of his cologne, adding to his charm. As she locked eyes with him, she wondered how many women had fallen under his spell or how many people had stumbled into his presence.

"I propose that we enter into a contract for a matter that I would prefer not to personally involve myself in. Additionally, I would appreciate it if any intimate aspects could be postponed," she courageously declared.

She discreetly concealed her hand behind her back, determined to maintain her composure.

It seemed as though he was teasing her with his expression. Leaning his elbow on his desk, he revealed a wide grin. "Do you truly believe that your body holds such value that you have the audacity to request a contract? Even if I choose not to assist your parents, I can still afford to buy you. Convince me why I should entertain your plea."

Standing there, her emotions simmered as she stared at him coldly. "You claimed to see your wife in me," she began. "Well, if I had the means to end my life, you wouldn't find any resemblance to her anymore. And honestly, I wouldn't care how much you suffered if I did so. If you wish, you could join me in hell."

After a brief moment of uncomfortable silence, she wandered around the room, her gaze fixed on the bookshelves.

"Jax, I believe it is reasonable for me to request what I desire, considering I am prepared to offer you what you desire."

Just as she was about to select a book from his shelf, he suddenly burst into laughter.

"You've maintained your unwavering self-confidence all these years. That was quite a clever tactic," he commented before swiftly transitioning into a serious demeanor. "What is it that you desire?"

Chantelle's heart jumped with his question, then she inhaled and answered, "I would be interested in establishing a long-term agreement between us."

"What does that involve?"

As she approached his desk, she confidently expressed her initial request: "If I decide not to engage in any sexual activity, please respect my decision and refrain from pressuring me."

Moving on to her second point, she added, "I also want to make it clear that I don't want to be confined to this room indefinitely. I have a life beyond these walls."

Noticing her brief pause, he raised an eyebrow curiously. "Oh?"

Feeling frustration building up inside her, she clenched her fist. "Third, your subordinates seem to believe that I am your mistress. Frankly, it's becoming quite irritating. The only way I can avoid being treated like a hidden wife is if you marry me."

"Is that all?" he asked, tapping his finger on the table, a faint smile trying to emerge.

"Lastly, but certainly not least, it's crucial to remember that you should not see other women while we are still married. This is an important part of maintaining our commitment to each other."

"I won't settle for the name of Chantelle Collins, considering the high demand you have," he replied, standing up from his office chair. "It seems that I am the one at a disadvantage in this situation. However, if you are willing to waive one of your rules, I will agree."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"I'm not sure if I'll be able to resist your body. The desire for intimacy is strong, and I expect you to fulfill my needs because that's what a wife is supposed to do."

As she carefully studied his face, a lump formed in her throat. Watching him nibble on his lower lip and play with his pen, he moved closer to her, his charm and allure growing stronger.

With a smirk, she approached him too. "Remember when you accused me of being inappropriate for touching you without consent? Well, why should I bother changing my ways if all I want is to avoid potential conflicts?"

Taking a deep breath, he carefully pocketed his pen. "I must admit, I was a bit intoxicated at the time, so my words may not have made much sense."

"So, are you suggesting that whenever you're drunk, those are the things I can expect to hear from you?"

She looked away as he remained silent for a moment, then unexpectedly drew nearer. A pang of fear washed over her. Was he going to harm her?

Worried about a possible attack, she defensively closed her eyes.

However, his actions were completely different from what she anticipated.

"I won't do that again," he uttered.

Her throat felt dry, and she struggled to find the right words.

Her mind went blank as he continued speaking. "Just so you know, we're going somewhere soon, so don't forget to pack your things."

Confused, she furrowed her brow and asked, "What? Where are we going, and why do I still need to pack?"

"You ask too many questions. Just get ready. I want you to meet them."

"Them...?"