The Trust Fund Wife

Paige-

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and unfeeling, casting cold shadows on the hospital walls.

It smelled like antiseptic and heartbreak-familiar now, like the perfume of grief clinging to my skin.

I sat on the edge of the plastic chair beside my sister's hospital bed, my hands balled into fists, knuckles white.

Machines beeped in rhythms i no longer feared but had come to resent.

They measured time-not in hours or minutes, but in how long my sister, Ava, still had left.

Ava lay there, pale as porcelain, her chest rising in fragile, uneven gasps.

Tubes tied from her arms, her nose, her ribs. The girl who used to dance barefoot in the rain now couldn't sit up without coughing blood.

"Paige?" came a soft voice behind her. It was Dr. Stephen, expression drawn, voice too gentle. I hated that tone. The one they used when preparing to destroy you kindly.

I stood, eyes wild. "Don't say it. Please, don't say it."

Dr. Stephen sighed. "The infection is spreading faster than we anticipated. The last round of treatment isn't working."

My stomach dropped.

"No-no, there has to be something else.

What about the experimental program in Chicago? You said she might be eligible-"

"She is. But it's not covered by Medicaid. And we're out of time." He hesitated. "The procedure alone costs six hundred thousand."

Six hundred thousand.

My lungs clenched. "Can't you just-start? I'll pay it in installments, I'll-"

"Paige." His voice was final. "We can't begin without payment up front."

I wanted to scream. Rip the machines from the wall. Smash through every wall and policy keeping Ava one heartbeat from the grave.

But I couldn't even afford rent Anymore. I worked two jobs, had sold everything of value-paintings, jewelry, dignity. All for hospital bills that barely made a dent.

Dr. Stephen left her in silence.

I sat back down as I held the tears back in place so Ava wouldn't see them fall, heart thundering, palms trembling.

My throat burned, eyes stinging with the tears I refused to let fall. Ava stirred faintly, her fingers twitching.

"P?" Her voice was a breath. "Did I miss your birthday?"

I choked out a sound-half laugh, half sob. "No. You'll be there next month to ruin the cake like always."

Ava smiled weakly. "Tell the truth... I'm not gonna make it, am I?"

I gripped my sister's hand hard. "Don't say that. Don't you dare."

Ava's eyes fluttered closed, but not before she whispered, "You've done enough. Just... let me go, if it gets too hard."

"No," i said fiercely. "I can't let you go." you're all I have and I never let anyone go.

But i was lying.

Because I had already lost our parents. i had already given up college. My art. My life. And now, my little sister was slipping from me grasp-quietly, painfully, and there was nothing left to give.

Unless...

My phone buzzed. A new message.

Unknown Number: Stop fighting this and think about what I offered..I hear you need a miracle. Come to the address below at 9PM. Ask for A.White. He doesn't do favors, but he pays for loyalty. And desperation.

My heart thudded.

Anderson White

The man known for building empires out of ashes. The billionaire with a soul blacker than his tailored suits. Everyone whispered his name with a mixture of fear and fascination.

But what did he want from me?.

I stared at the message, the weight of Ava's life pressing like a noose around my neck.

My fingers hovered over the screen.

Ava coughed. Hard. The machines beeped erratically, and my head whipped toward her.

Nurses rushed in. My heart pounded against her chest.

"Code blue!" someone shouted.

I was shoved aside as my sister's body began to convulse. Ava!

"No-NO! Ava! Please-"

The doors slammed in my face.

And then... silence

The cold, automated voice over the intercom echoed down the hallway:

"Resuscitation team to ICU. Patient in cardiac arrest

Paige-

The rain hit the windshield like tiny bullets as i sat stiffly in the back of a sleek black car.

My hands clenched in my lap. The driver hadn't spoken a word since picking me up from the alley behind the hospital, just like the text instructed.

The city blurred outside, neon lights and wet glass smearing together like a painting left in the storm.

It was past 9 p.m. when the car pulled into a private entrance of the White Tower-fifty-five floors of mirrored steel and rumors.

Power hummed in the building's bones, the kind that made people bow or break.

A security officer opened the door. "This way, Ms. Witherspoon"

The elevator ride was silent but tense. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirrored wall-wet hair, pale skin, eyes wide with exhaustion and fear.

I looked like someone standing at the edge of a cliff.

And i was.

When the elevator stopped, it opened directly into a penthouse that didn't look real.

Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a thunder-streaked skyline.

The room smelled faintly of expensive whiskey and colder things-like power, and detachment.

He stood near the window.

Adrian White.

Tall, composed, deadly. He didn't turn around immediately. He didn't have to.

"I thought you'd look more desperate."

His voice was low and smooth.

I stepped forward, swallowing hard. "I am."

Now he turned. Sharp jaw, tailored black suit, storm-grey eyes that landed on her like a calculated strike.

"You received the message," he said, walking toward me with unnerving calm. "And you're here. That says everything."

"I don't have time for games," I said, surprising even myself with the steel in my voice. "My sister is dying."

"I'm aware. I made it my business to know." He stopped a few feet from me, eyes scanning me from head to toe.

"You've already sold everything you have. What's left to offer?"

My pulse quickened. "Why me? Why not find someone else to... use?"

"Because you're smart, compliant under pressure... and completely expendable.

My cheeks flushed and rage brewed. "Is this a test or a job?"

"It's a contract."

He handed me a slim, leather-bound folder. Inside, a marriage license. my name already filled in. His signature at the bottom.

"Marry me," he said. "One year. You'll be paid Fifty million dollars, split into monthly installments. Full access to elite healthcare for your sister, no questions asked.

But you'll follow my terms-public appearances, private obedience, and absolute silence."

I stared at him. The figure rang in my head but I quickly snapped out of it "Why the hell do you need a wife?"

His eyes darkened. "Because my inheritance requires it. And because love is a lie, but legality isn't."

My fingers trembled as i flipped through the papers. Every clause was sharp and cold. No room for error. No room for feeling.

"You're offering to buy me."

"I'm offering to buy your time," he corrected. "The rest is up to you."

A pause hung thick between us.

Then he added, "Say yes... and she lives."

I looked down at the paper, my signature space glaring up at me like a trap i was already falling into.

"I want to add a clause," i said quietly.

His brow lifted. "You're negotiating?

"Interesting"

My voice broke, but i held firm.

"If I fail to follow your terms, you can end the contract. But if you do-if you break it first-I still get the full amount. All of it. For Ava."

Anderson's mouth curved into something cruel and intrigued.

"Done"

He took the folder from me, grabbed a pen, and without hesitation, signed off the change.

Then he handed it back. "Your move, Mrs. Almost."

The thunder cracked outside, and i stepped closer to the desk.

My hand shook and the thoughts of Ava came like a gust of wind and i signed my name.

Paige Whiterspoon.

The pen scratched my fate onto the paper like a curse.

Anderson looked up at me with an unreadable expression.

"Congratulations," he murmured. "You just sold your soul."

Then he leaned in-close enough that his breath touched my skin..

"But don't worry, sweetheart. I always take good care of what I own."

-Anderson-

I sipped my espresso slowly, staring out over Manhattan like a general surveying his battlefield.

Below, the city bustled and begged. Above, i reigned.

My penthouse was silent, save for the click of polished shoes on marble.

"They're live," my assistant, Marla, said from the doorway, holding up a tablet. "As you requested."

I took it from her. A single headline sprawled across the screen, bold and bleeding:

"Billionaire Anderson White Marries Unknown Woman in Private Ceremony - Who is Paige Whiterspoon?"

I smirked.

It was already spreading-like gasoline meeting flame. News anchors scrambled. Gossip blogs speculated. Investors panicked. Enemies took note.

Exactly as planned.

Marrying Paige had already made waves, and she hadn't even stepped outside yet.

"Have security stationed at all exits. I don't want her ambushed," i would always say.

Make sure she's safe now go. Marla hesitated. "Are you concerned for her... or your investment?"

I glanced at her, cool and unfazed "Both."

When she left, i turned the volume up and let the chaos wash over me .

The media couldn't get enough of the quiet girl with no social profile, no connections, no bloodline. They were calling her everything from a gold digger to a Cinderella.

If only they knew.

I picked up my phone and brought up the surveillance feed-Paige, still asleep in the guest suite,

She was curled beneath the silk sheets like something soft in a world too sharp. Even now, she didn't belong here. And yet... she did.

There was something about her-the defiance in her eyes, the way she didn't tremble when she should have. She didn't beg. She negotiated.

And inliked that.

I shut the feed off.

Feelings were dangerous. That's what my father used to say. "Empathy is what gets kings killed."

I had never let emotion interfere with strategy. Until now. Until her.

A knock sounded. Marla again.

"She's awake," she said. "And already saw the headlines."

I stood, straightened my cuffs. "Bring her to the rooftop terrace."

I was waiting when Paige stepped out, wrapped in a robe, hair still damp, eyes flashing like a cornered animal.

"You could've warned me," she snapped. "You said privacy."

"I said the wedding would be private," i said coolly. "Not the marriage."

She threw the tablet at my chest. "My sister's nurse called. Paparazzi were camped outside the hospital. Ava was terrified."

"That will be handled."

She stared at me, voice breaking. "Do you always burn down the world for attention?"

"No," i said quietly. "Only when it needs to be reminded who controls the fire."

She turned to leave.

"Paige," i said.

She froze.

"You agreed to be mine in public and in private. That means standing beside me. especially when the cameras are watching."

It's going to die down soon it's just been Three weeks and soon they'll look for another bone to pick.

"Bottom feeders"

She turned back slowly, her voice cold. "Don't confuse survival with loyalty, Anderson. I signed your deal. I didn't sell my soul."

But as she walked away, I watched her hips sway, her shoulders squared in defiance, and for the first time in a very long time...

I felt something shift.

Not control.

Not calculation.

Something much worse.

"Want"

And not the kind i could buy or bend.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Congratulations, Anderson. But marrying her won't stop the truth from surfacing. It wouldn't keep your secrets away and it wouldn't make you a better man..

My eyes narrowed.