Faking It With My Billionaire Husband

The wedding

On the day of the wedding, I stood in front of the mirror, applying the final touches to my makeup. I wore a simple yet elegant dress that made me feel both beautiful and out of place. The thought of saying “I do” to a man I barely knew felt surreal, and my heart raced as I stared at my reflection. Would I be making the biggest mistake of my life, or would this lead to the salvation my mother desperately needed?

As I arrived at the venue—a tastefully decorated private estate—it felt more like a carefully orchestrated business function than a wedding. The atmosphere was vibrant yet sterile, filled with laughter and conversation, but I found it hard to relax. Max was already mingling, his presence commanding attention, and he looked effortlessly handsome in his tailored suit.

A strange mix of admiration and anxiety surged through me as I approached him. He caught my eyes and offered a reassuring smile, but it did little to calm my nerves. The guests, a mix of Max’s associates and friends, eyed me curiously as though assessing whether I was worthy of this man they held in high regard.

“Are you ready?” Max asked, his voice smooth and steady, cutting through the noise around us.

“I think so,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “Are you?”

He laughed softly, an unexpected sound that brought a tiny spark of warmth to my apprehensions. “I’ve been ready for a long time. This is just a formality. Remember, it’s business. Keep that in mind, and you’ll be just fine.”

I nodded, trying to convince myself of the same thing. As the ceremony began, I resolved to shed my fears and embrace the opportunity ahead of me. I had a job to do—become his wife for a year. Nothing more, nothing less.

When the officiant began, I focused on the rhythmic intonations of the ceremony, letting the words wash over me. “Do you, Maya, take Max to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Max, take Maya to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

With those words, I felt the weight of my decision solidify around me; I was now bound to this man by the contract I had signed with every intention of helping my mother.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. I smiled for the cameras, posed for photos, and tried to engage in conversations while my stomach churned with uncertainty. By the time we exchanged rings, I was left questioning—what had I truly signed up for?

As the official reception commenced, the atmosphere turned more festive, filled with clinking glasses and laughter. Yet, beneath the surface, I sensed a tension, a frenetic energy that came from those who were aware of the reality of this ‘marriage.’

Max and I took our places at the head of the table, and he leaned in, his voice low so only I could hear. “Once the guests have settled, we need to take a few photos together—and then you’ll meet some important people.”

“Important how?” I responded, my heart beginning to race again.

“They are investors and potential partners. I need you to play the role of a supportive wife,” he said, his tone casual, though the intent was clear.

The evening unfolded in a dizzying whirlwind of introductions and polite smiles. As I met one powerful figure after another, I realized that this was part of Max’s requirements—it wasn’t just about posturing; it was about establishing credibility in his business world.

I found myself linking arms with Max, laughing at jokes I barely understood, and sharing a dance as the evening progressed. I felt like an actress playing a role; the lines were blurred between who I was and who I needed to be.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Max asked, finally pulling me away to a quieter corner of the grand hall.

“It’s overwhelming,” I admitted honestly. “I don’t know how to fit into all of this.”

His expression softened momentarily, a flicker of something genuine crossing his face. “You’re doing better than you think. Ease into it, and remember why we’re here. You’re more important than you realize.”

His words struck a chord, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. I reminded myself of my mother, the reason I had agreed to this in the first place. Yet, as I looked at Max, I wondered if behind his inscrutable facade lay genuine intentions, or if I was merely a means to an end—a trophy to flaunt in his high-stakes world.

As the festivities continued into the night, I danced with him, mingled, and even shared moments of laughter. Each second blurred with the next, and for a few fleeting instances, I almost forgot about the contract binding us. That was until I caught a glimpse of my mother’s face in my mind—their smiles hidden beneath her hospital sheets—steadily anchoring me back to reality.

As midnight approached, Max leaned in close, wrapping an arm around me, making it clear that our partnership—however unconventional—was just beginning. I realized that surviving this façade was only part of the journey ahead; I still needed to uncover the true nature of our arrangement and decipher if there was room for anything more than a contractual obligation.

“This is just the start, Maya,” he whispered.