Five Years of Lies: The Price of a Contracted Marriage Novel – I had been married to Damien Cross for five years, and almost every few days, he brought someone new home under the pretense of “business gatherings” or “social events.” Each time, I heard the muffled sounds from the next room, and quietly made a note in my journal. Five years—ninety-eight times in total.
Today was no exception. This time, the guest was a young college girl. After their so-called “meeting,” Damien asked me to tidy up the room. Vivienne, still leaning in Damien’s arms, glanced at me with an air of disdain. “Damien,” she said mockingly, “Is this the wife you mentioned? She looks like she’s aged ten years from boredom.” Damien just smiled faintly.
Vivienne laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Some people really don’t know when to let go.” I didn’t respond. I simply lowered my head and cleaned up silently. Back in my room, I opened the safe and took out the divorce agreement. Five years. I’d nearly forgotten—it was just a contract. In one week, the agreement would take effect. The next morning, Damien had already called me three times to bring him breakfast.
I refused. “Don’t you have hands? Help yourself.” He stormed out, fuming. “Elena, don’t forget where you’re living and who you owe everything to.” I looked at him calmly. Five years of this face, this coldness. He never loved me. He never even tried to see me as part of his life. “Soon, I’ll be gone,” I said quietly. His anger surged. “You? Leave? You think you can survive on your own after depending on me for everything?” Just then, Vivienne appeared behind him, stretching lazily in a new silk robe. “Oh, is someone upset again?” she said with a smirk. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” I placed the spoon down calmly, the clink echoing in the quiet room.
Damien narrowed his eyes. “Is Vivienne wrong?” I didn’t answer. I picked up the breakfast and went to the kitchen. From the dining room came Vivienne’s voice: “How pitiful. Just stay in your corner like a good little housekeeper.” Damien made a vague attempt to hush her, but his tone was far from serious. I stared at the running water, lost in thought until a hand reached out and turned off the tap. “What’s gotten into you?” Damien asked. I didn’t look up. “I’m thinking about what comes next.” “Next?” “The divorce,” I said. “It’s almost time.” He scoffed. “You? What can you do? You’ve been out of the real world for years.” His words stung, as they always had.
But I remembered who I used to be—before all this. Before I was forced to drop out of college to care for my sick younger brother. Before I took desperate jobs, just to pay for his treatment. Before Damien found me and offered five years of stability in exchange for a contract marriage. He needed a wife with no complications.
I needed money. I agreed. And for five years, I played the role of Mrs. Cross—quietly, obediently, invisibly. Until I learned about Vivienne—his childhood sweetheart. I’d always turned a blind eye to the other women. But when he brought her into the room I was never allowed to enter… I knew it was over.