The ceo's Revenge Bride

A drunken confusion

"You're really testing my patience! You're leaving this house next week!"

The old woman's voice cut through the tiny apartment like a knife, her wrinkled face twisted in frustration.

Claire swallowed hard, pressing her hands together to keep them from shaking. "Please, ma, I promise I'll pay."

"That's what you always say!" The woman huffed and stomped away, muttering under her breath.

Claire let out a slow breath. The room was small, dull, and barely livable, but it was the cheapest place she could find in London. And now, even that was slipping away.

She sat on her tiny bed, staring at the pile of clothes she had been trying to sell online. With a deep breath, she reached for her ring light, turned it on, and hit record.

"Hey guys, today I've got some beautiful pieces for you..."

Her own voice sounded hollow. Fake.

No one was buying.

Then her phone rang.

The screen flashed: Unknown Number.

Her stomach twisted, but she answered.

"If you don't pay in two months, prepare to die."

The line went dead.

Claire's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers clenched around the phone.

The illegal lenders.

She had been so desperate, she borrowed from the wrong people. And now, they were coming for her.

A wave of nausea rolled over her. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She had left home to prove she could survive without her father's money, without the family name.

She had believed in herself.

But now?

Now, she wasn't so sure.

Tears burned her eyes, but she forced them back. Crying wouldn't fix anything. She needed a plan. Something anything to get her out of this mess.

Her gaze landed on her nightstand, where a delicate gold necklace gleamed under the dim light. Her mother's gift.

Her last valuable possession.

Her chest ached, but she knew what she had to do.

She grabbed the necklace, threw on something decent, and rushed out.

Hours Later

Claire stepped off the train, gripping her bag tightly.

The money from the pawn shop wasn't much, but it would keep her afloat for now.

She exhaled, feeling the first hint of relief in days.

Then, a strange emptiness settled over her.

Her bag.

It was lighter.

Panic surged through her as she whipped it around and yanked it open.

The zipper had been sliced. The cash?

Gone. A thief.

Her throat closed up. No. No, no, no.

She felt lightheaded as she stumbled onto the pavement. The icy London air cut through her thin coat, but she barely noticed.

It was over.

Dragging herself home, she barely made it inside before collapsing onto her couch.

The weight of it all came crashing down, and this time, she couldn't stop the tears.

How had everything gone so wrong?

Then she felt it a small, crumpled envelope in her coat pocket.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled it out.

A few pounds.

Barely enough for a drink.

Claire let out a dry laugh.

Maybe she should just forget for a little while.

Yeah. Just for tonight.

She grabbed her coat and stepped out into the night.

The Bar

The burn of alcohol in her throat did nothing to numb the storm inside her.

Claire sat slumped over the counter, swirling the last drops of her drink.

Her vision blurred, the world spinning just a little too fast.

Then, she felt it.

Eyes on her.

She turned, squinting through the haze, and froze.

Gordon Wright.

He sat across the room, his sharp blue eyes locked onto her.

Her lips parted slightly.

She knew that face. That smirk.

Before she could fully process it, he stood, drink in hand, and made his way toward her.

Everything around her.qthe clinking of glasses, the dull hum of conversation faded.

"Hey, girl," Gordon said smoothly, voice low and rich with amusement.

Claire blinked up at him, her head tilting slightly.

"Oh boy," she mumbled, letting out a tipsy laugh.

Gordon smirked, sliding onto the stool next to her. "Rough night?"

"You have no idea." She downed another shot, slamming the glass onto the bar.

Gordon watched her closely. The Claire he remembered had been different.polished, confident, untouchable.

But this Claire?

She was wrecked.His smirk faded slightly. "And?"

Claire's chest rose and fell unevenly. The words spilled out before she could stop them.

"I'm about to be kicked out of my place... I... I have no money... and loan sharks... they said they'll kill me in two months."

A bitter laugh slipped from her lips, but it cracked halfway through.

Gordon stilled.

This wasn't just some spoiled rich girl playing broke.

This was real.

Before he could respond, Claire's head slumped forward onto her arms.

Passed out.

Gordon exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

What the hell am I supposed to do with you?

Leaving her here wasn't an option.

With a resigned sigh, he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest.

Gordon's Penthouse

By the time they reached his apartment, Claire stirred slightly.

Gordon helped her inside, carefully lowering her onto the bed.

And then

"Shit."

Warm liquid splattered across his expensive shirt.

Claire had thrown up.

On him.

Gordon grimaced, holding his arms out like his clothes were radioactive. He stared at her limp form, debating whether to just leave her there.

But then, her voice soft, barely a whisper.

"I borrowed money from dangerous people..."

Gordon's breath hitched.

"They said they'll kill me," she mumbled, her voice breaking. "My life is a mess..."

A long silence stretched between them.

Gordon should have felt satisfied.

This was his moment to gloat, to savor her downfall.

Instead, all he felt was... confused.

His gaze flickered to her fake gold chain, now slightly exposed beneath her blouse.

She had been someone important once.

So why was she here?

Was she disowned?

Gordon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

This wasn't the Claire he had expected.

And he had a feeling no matter how much he wanted to walk away he wouldn't be able to.

Not yet.

The morning after

Gordon had barely stepped out of the room when his phone rang.

He pulled it out, already regretting answering.

"What now?" he said flatly.

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Ryan's voice came through, full of his usual sarcasm. "I just landed. Where are you? We have a meeting in an hour."

Gordon sighed. "Something came up."

A pause. Then Ryan's voice sharpened. "Wait... did you just say 'something came up'? You? Mr. Schedule-Everything-to-Death? What's going on?"

Before Gordon could answer, the doorbell rang.

He frowned. Who the hell?

When he opened the door, a petite woman with bright red lipstick stood there, arms crossed like she was ready for battle.

"Where is she?" Naomi demanded, pushing past him.

Gordon blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Claire," Naomi said, scanning the apartment. "She didn't pick up my calls, and I tracked her phone here."

Gordon's brows lifted. "You tracked her phone?"

Naomi waved him off. "Oh, don't act all shocked, billionaire boy. Where is she?"

Before he could respond, Ryan's voice came from the phone still in his hand.

"Who's that? And why does she sound like she's about to murder you?"

Gordon exhaled slowly. "Long story."

Naomi wasn't waiting for an invitation. "Claire! Claire!" she shouted, pacing around. "Where is she?"

Gordon simply looked upstairs.

She didn't wait for permission just marched up, throwing open doors like she owned the place.

It didn't take long to find Claire, still knocked out on the bed.

Naomi groaned, hands on her hips. "Seriously? I knew she was drinking, but damn."

Gordon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "If you're done barging into my house, I have work to do."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "And I have questions."

Downstairs

Ethan stepped inside quietly, clutching his tablet like it was a shield.

He had heard the commotion from the hallway and, knowing Gordon, figured it was safer to sit, observe, and pretend he wasn't there.

So, he quietly lowered himself onto the couch, fingers tapping nervously against the tablet.

He wasn't about to involve himself in whatever this was.

Then another buzz.

It was Ryan,I'm here Open the damn door.

Gordon quickly went downstairs forgetting Ethan was there to open the door.

Gordon sighed, unlocking it.

Ryan Carter strode in, sharp suit, sharp eyes, and zero patience for nonsense.

He barely stepped inside before raising a brow. "You look like hell."

Gordon shut the door. "Thanks."

Before Ryan could grill him further, a voice boomed from upstairs.

"I don't care if he's a billionaire! I'll slap the arrogance out of him if he tries anything funny!"

Ryan's brows shot up. "What the hell was that? You got a girlfriend now? Wow."

Gordon rubbed his temples. "Shut up. That's Claire's friend."

Ryan smirked. "Who's Claire? And wait, you mean to tell me someone is finally putting you in your place?"

Before Gordon could respond, another loud thud echoed from upstairs.

Ryan glanced at the ceiling like he expected it to collapse. "And Claire is...?"

"Still drunk. Sleeping."

Ryan let out a low whistle. "Damn. You really picked up a whole human disaster, huh?"

Upstairs

Naomi stood over Claire, arms crossed. "I swear, Claire, if you got yourself into some billionaire nonsense, I'm going to scream."

Claire groaned, pulling the covers over her head. "Shhh... Heaven is loud."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "You're in Gordon Wright's house, you idiot."

Claire peeked out. "Oh." Pause. "Wait. Who is he?"

Naomi sighed dramatically. "you don't know Gordon Wright. Billionaire. CEO. Probably the kind of guy who schedules his bathroom breaks."

Claire blinked. Her head was pounding.

She suddenly sat up, eyes wide.

"Wait. Did I sleep with him?!"

Naomi's face twisted in disgust. "Ew. No. You just embarrassed yourself in a bar, got picked up by Mr. Rich and Broody, and vomited on him. Congratulations."

Claire groaned and flopped back onto the pillows. "Kill me."

"Oh, trust me, if you don't explain why your phone led me here, I just might." Naomi crossed her arms. "And what's this about you owing dangerous people money?"

Claire squeezed her eyes shut. "It's a long story."

Naomi huffed. "I have time."

Downstairs

Gordon sat on the couch, rubbing his temples.

Ryan leaned back, way too entertained.

"So... let me get this straight. You found a drunk woman in a bar, recognized her, and instead of dropping her at a hotel, you brought her here?"

Gordon shot him a glare. "She passed out before I could ask where she lived."

Ryan smirked. "Right. And this has nothing to do with the fact that she's your enemy's daughter?"

Gordon's jaw tightened. "She doesn't remember me."

Ryan's smirk widened. "Ouch. That must sting."

Gordon ignored him. His mind was already working through something else.

Claire was in trouble. Real trouble.

He saw an opportunity.

He needed a wife.

And Claire was perfect for the role.

He stood up, adjusting his cufflinks. "I'm going to make her an offer she can't refuse."

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what exactly are you planning?"

Gordon smirked. "A contract marriage."

Ryan whistled. "Damn. That's cold even for you."

Gordon ignored him and strode upstairs.

Claire had just thrown on a fresh shirt when he knocked once before stepping inside.

She looked up, still groggy. "What now?"

Gordon leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "We need to talk."

Claire frowned. "About what?"

His lips curled into a smirk.

"Your life is a mess, and I have a proposition."

Claire's stomach twisted. "What kind of proposition?"

Gordon's voice was smooth, deliberate.

"Marriage."

The room fell dead silent.

Naomi blinked. "Oh, hell no."

Claire just stared. "Come again?"

Gordon slipped his hands into his pockets. "You need money. I need a wife. It's simple."

Claire let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, no. I think I would rather take my chances with the loan sharks."

Gordon smirked. "Funny. Because either way, your life won't be yours anymore."

Claire's stomach twisted.

She had no idea what kind of game Gordon was playing, but one thing was clear

This was only the beginning.

Pressure from Home

Claire sat on her bed, gripping her phone tightly as her mother's voice filled her ear.

"So, how's the business going, sweetheart?"

Her stomach twisted. She forced a smile, even though her mother couldn't see her. "Oh, you know... busy as always."

"That's wonderful! You're finally making good sales?"

Claire hesitated. "Y-yeah. Slowly but surely."

Her mother hummed in approval. "That's good to hear. Your father will be so proud when he gets back."

Claire's grip on the phone tightened. "Dad's coming back?"

"Yes, in three months. He's expecting to see how far you've come. You know how he is, he'll want details. Real progress."

Claire's mouth went dry.

If her father found out she was drowning in debt, barely surviving, he would drag her back home and force her into the family business.

"Claire? Are you still there?"

She forced a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. That's great. I'll... I'll be ready."

"Good. I know you'll make us proud. Love you, sweetheart."

The call ended.

And Claire sat frozen.

Her father was coming. In three months.

She had no money. No business success. No backup plan.

She buried her face in her hands.

She was running out of time.

A bitter laugh slipped out as she flopped back onto her bed.

"Oh, right. The debt." She stared at the ceiling, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "They'll probably kill me before my dad even gets the chance to be disappointed."

Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

Should I just tell them?

But then she imagined her father's cold stare, the way he would say "I told you so" without actually saying it.

No.

Going back meant admitting she failed.

And failure wasn't an option.

Her phone buzzed.

She reached for it absentmindedly until she saw the message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You have 59 days left.

Claire shot up so fast her vision blurred.

They were counting down.

Her fingers trembled as she set the phone down.

She needed a way out. Fast.

Gordon's Office

Gordon sat at his desk, skimming through reports, when Ethan stepped in, clutching his tablet like a lifeline.

"S-Sir, we have an issue," Ethan stammered.

Gordon didn't look up. "You always have an issue, Ethan. Get to the point."

Ethan gulped. "The Winston deal. Dawson is making a move. He's offering them a better package. If we don't act fast, they'll sign with him."

Gordon finally glanced up, his cold gaze making Ethan shift uncomfortably.

"And why," he asked, voice dangerously calm, "am I just hearing about this now?"

Ethan hesitated. "We were trying to handle it, sir. But Dawson is"

Before he could finish, the office door swung open, and Ryan strolled in, hands in his pockets, completely unbothered.

"You should really stop scaring the kid, Gordon."

Ethan let out a breath like he'd just been rescued.

Gordon ignored Ryan. "What does Winston want?"

Olivia, who had been quietly standing by the door, finally spoke. "More influence. If we can offer him better industry connections, we might still have a chance."

Ryan smirked. "Or we could just find dirt on Dawson and ruin his plans entirely."

Gordon's lips curled slightly. "Tempting. But not yet."

He turned to Ethan. "Set up a meeting. I want to talk to Winston myself."

Ethan nodded so fast he nearly tripped over his feet rushing out.

Ryan shook his head. "You really enjoy making him sweat, don't you?"

Gordon leaned back. "Fear keeps people efficient."

Ryan snorted. "And yet, somehow, I'm still here."

Gordon smirked. "Because you're useful."

Ryan studied him. "So... about this contract marriage... You're really going through with it?"

Gordon's smirk widened. But his eyes remained cold.

"It's already decided." He glanced at his watch. "Claire just doesn't know it yet."

Few Hours Later

Claire sat across from Gordon in his massive office, gripping the strap of her worn-out handbag.

She had rehearsed this conversation a hundred times, but now that she was here, the words felt stuck in her throat.

Gordon, of course, looked completely at ease, leaning back in his chair with that damn unreadable smirk.

He had been waiting for this.

"I'll do it," she said. Her voice wasn't as confident as she wanted it to be.

Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

She swallowed. "The marriage."

His smirk widened, but his eyes remained cold.

"I knew you would come around."

Her stomach twisted.

"But I have conditions," she said quickly.

That got his attention. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk. "Oh?"

Claire took a breath. "No sex. This is a contract marriage, nothing more. And you'll fund my business."

Gordon let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You really are bold."

Claire didn't flinch. "Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.come to think of it,what do you stand to gain from this marriage.''

Silence filled the room.

Ethan, who had been standing near the door, suddenly looked very interested in his tablet.

Then, to her surprise, Gordon stood up and walked around the desk until he was right beside her.

Claire forced herself not to shrink under his gaze.

"Fine," he said smoothly. "No sex.What I stand to gain?I want to trend,also want people to stop having the impression I can't get a woman, don't want to look stiff you know?

Is for the business Wife."

He said,trying to touch her face but missed because she dodged.

Relief flooded her chest until he added

"But I run it."

Claire blinked. "What? No! That's not part of the deal!"

Gordon smirked. "It is now. You want my money? Then you answer to me."

Claire's fists clenched.

This wasn't what she wanted.

But what choice did she have?

The debt, the looming threats, the shame of failing it was all too much.

She exhaled sharply. "Fine."

Gordon extended his hand. "Then we have a deal, Mrs. Hayes."

Claire hesitated before shaking it.

His grip was strong. And for a second, she swore she saw something flicker in his eyes.

Something dangerous.

She had just made a deal with the devil.

And there was no turning back.