He Needed a Wife to Claim His Inheritance—So He Paid a Poor Widow to Pretend
Chapter 2
Her name was Clara Bennett.
She was thirty-one.
A widow.
Mother of one.
And according to Mark’s research, she was about to lose her house.
Ethan met her at a small diner on the edge of town.
She arrived ten minutes late.
Not because she was careless.
Because she had been working.
Her coat was old.
Her boots were damp.
Her hair was tied back.
She looked exhausted.
And angry.
She sat across from him.
“You’re Ethan Cole.”
“Yes.”
“The billionaire.”
“I prefer businessman.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That’s probably what billionaires say.”
Ethan almost smiled.
“I need to make you an offer.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Your assistant called me.”
“He told you everything?”
“Enough.”
She crossed her arms.
“I’m not interested in becoming someone’s trophy wife.”
“I don’t want a trophy.”
“Good.”
“I need a legal wife.”
She stared.
“For one year.”
“Yes.”
“And you pay me?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Ethan gave her the number.
Clara’s face changed.
It was enough to pay her mortgage.
Her medical bills.
Her son’s school expenses.
And still leave something behind.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
“Because you need the money.”
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Her eyes hardened.
“You really know how to make a woman feel special.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“It sounded exactly like what you meant.”
She stood.
“I’m leaving.”
Ethan caught her attention.
“I’ll double it.”
She stopped.
He continued.
“You’ll have a private room, financial security, and total control over your own money.”
She slowly turned around.
“What are the rules?”
“No romance.”
“No touching?”
“None you don’t agree to.”
She looked surprised.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“No sleeping together.”
“Absolutely not.”
“No pretending in private.”
“You’ll have your own room.”
“No controlling me.”
“You’ll have your own bank account.”
“No lies about my son.”
“None.”
She studied him.
“What if I say no?”
“I find someone else.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
Then she sat back down.
“What happens after a year?”
“We divorce.”
“And nobody gets hurt?”
Ethan hesitated.
“That’s the plan.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“My husband’s name was Daniel.”
Ethan hadn’t expected that.
“He died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He left me with debt.”
She looked down.
“I’m not doing this because I want to marry another rich man.”
“I know.”
“I’m doing it because my son deserves a home.”
Ethan nodded.
“Then we understand each other.”
Clara picked up the contract.
She read every line.
Then signed.
Ethan watched her.
“You’re sure?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
A pause.
“But I’m desperate.”
That answer bothered him more than it should have.
They left the diner separately.
Neither noticed the black sedan parked across the street.
Inside sat a man who immediately made a phone call.
“She’s agreed.”
A pause.
“Then the plan works.”
