The Replacement wife

The hospital bill felt like a weight in my pocket as I walked through the rain. Three hundred thousand dollars. The number kept spinning in my head, making me dizzy. Mom had maybe six months without the surgery. With it, she could have years.

I didn't have three hundred dollars, let alone three hundred thousand.

My phone buzzed. Another text from my landlord. Rent was two weeks late. I shoved the phone back in my purse and kept walking, my shoes soaked through, my cheap work blazer doing nothing against the cold.

The coffee shop where I worked part-time was warm at least. My manager, Rita, took one look at me and poured a cup of coffee without asking.

"You look like death, Emma," she said, not unkindly.

"Thanks," I muttered, wrapping my hands around the cup. "That's the look I was going for."

She wiped down the counter, her eyes soft with concern. "Your mom?"

I nodded. Couldn't trust my voice.

"Something will work out," Rita said. "It always does."

I wanted to believe her. But I'd been saying that for three months now, and things had only gotten worse. I worked three jobs - the coffee shop in the morning, data entry in the afternoon, and bartending at night. Every penny went to Mom's medical bills, and it still wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

The door chimed. I looked up out of habit.

A man walked in, and the air seemed to change. He was tall, maybe six-foot-two, with dark hair and a face that belonged on magazine covers. His suit probably cost more than my entire year's rent. He moved like he owned everything he touched, his eyes cold and sharp as glass.

Behind him came an older man, shorter, wearing glasses and carrying a leather briefcase. An assistant or lawyer, I guessed.

They sat at a corner booth. I grabbed my notepad and went over, forcing a smile.

"Good afternoon. What can I get you?"

The younger man looked at me. Really looked at me. His eyes were dark gray, storm-cloud colored, and there was something unsettling about the way he studied my face. Like he was memorizing every feature.

"Emma Carter?" he asked.

I froze. "How do you know my name?"

"Sit down," he said. Not a request.

"I'm working"

"I'll buy the entire coffee shop for the next hour if I have to. Sit down."

My heart hammered. This was insane. "Who are you?"

"My name is Adrian Wolfe. I have a business proposition for you."

The name clicked. Adrian Wolfe. The Adrian Wolfe. CEO of Wolfe Industries, one of the biggest tech companies in the country. Billionaire. And, if the tabloids were right, a widower. His wife had died in a car accident two years ago.

What could a man like that possibly want with me?

The older man gestured to the seat across from Adrian. "Please, Miss Carter. Five minutes of your time."

I glanced at Rita. She nodded, eyes wide, shooing me toward the booth. I sat down slowly, clutching my notepad like a shield.

"I'll be direct," Adrian said. His voice was cool, businesslike. "I need a wife. Temporary. Contract-based. One year."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My wife died two years ago. My daughter, Lily, is five years old. She needs a mother figure. More importantly, my late wife's family is contesting her will. They claim I'm unfit to raise Lily alone. If I remarry, they have no case."

"So... get married," I said slowly. "To someone you actually know."

"It needs to be convincing. A love story. Someone who looks like" He stopped. His jaw tightened. "Someone specific."

The way he'd stared at me earlier suddenly made sense. "I look like her. Your dead wife."

He didn't deny it. "Remarkably so. Same hair, same eyes, same facial structure. The resemblance is... useful."

Useful. He said it like I was a piece of furniture.

"This is crazy," I whispered.

"I'll pay you two million dollars," Adrian said.

The world tilted. "What?"

"Two million. One million upfront, one million at the end of the year when we divorce. You'll live in my house, act as Lily's stepmother, and appear with me at necessary social functions. All expenses paid. In return, you pretend to be my wife."

I couldn't breathe. Two million dollars. Mom's surgery. Rent. Bills. Everything. Gone. Solved.

"Why me?" I asked. "Just because I look like her?"

"You have no family except your mother. No boyfriend. No social media presence. You're drowning in debt. You're perfect because you're desperate and you have no ties that would complicate things."

The truth of it stung. "You investigated me."

"Of course." He slid a business card across the table. "Think about it. You have twenty-four hours. After that, I'll find someone else."

The older man placed a folder on the table. "The full contract terms. Read it carefully."

They stood. Adrian looked at me one more time, and something flickered in his eyes. Something dark and haunted.

"I know it's a lot to ask," he said quietly. "But I'm not a bad man, Miss Carter. I just need help saving my daughter. And you need help saving your mother. Think about it."

Then they were gone, the door chiming softly behind them.

I sat there, staring at the folder and the business card. Adrian Wolfe's private number was printed in simple black letters.

Rita appeared at my elbow. "What the hell was that?"

"I have no idea," I whispered.

But that was a lie. I knew exactly what it was. It was a lifeline. A dangerous, insane, impossible lifeline.

I picked up the folder with shaking hands. Inside was a contract, dense with legal terms. But the first page had a simple summary.

Contract Duration: One year

Compensation: $2,000,000

Responsibilities: Act as legal spouse and stepmother

Termination Clause: Divorce finalized after 12 months

Two million dollars.

My phone buzzed again. This time it was the hospital. I knew what they were calling about. Mom's treatment couldn't wait much longer.

I closed the folder and put it in my bag.

Twenty-four hours, he'd said.

I didn't think it would take me even twenty-four minutes to decide.