Chapter 6 : A wife on paper ,A Stranger in Flesh
Chapter 6: A Wife on Paper, A Stranger in Flesh
Rain fell against the glass like shattered pieces from the sky.
Aria stood outside the bedroom from which she had been exiled. An open suitcase rested at her feet, filled with the few items she had been allowed to bring. Her fingers shook as she folded the last silk blouse, one she had never chosen herself, one she never wore without permission.
She wasn't crying.
Not this time.
Because Leon's words still rang louder than any storm.
> "We had a contract. You broke it."
No. She hadn't broken the contract.
She'd broken **him**.
That was the real crime.
And the punishment?
Silence. Exile. Worthlessness.
By the time the house staff came to gather her belongings, she had already packed them. No one asked questions. No one even made eye contact. It was as if her whole existence had vanished with a single line of ink on a document she never controlled.
"Ma'am," the head butler said gently, "Mr. Valen has arranged for you to move to a private residence uptown. Everything you need will be provided."
Aria nodded, her voice trapped in her throat.
Not wife.
Not partner.
Just an inconvenience, being *relocated*.
She was being discarded like a liability—handled, contained, and thrown away.
The car ride was quiet.
The driver never glanced in the mirror. The roads blurred in the storm. Her wedding ring felt heavy on her finger, but she didn't take it off.
Not because it meant anything.
But because she wanted to remember **everything.**
Every lie.
Every silence.
Every time she hoped for kindness from a man who no longer believed in humanity.
The new place was beautiful—on the surface.
Minimalist. Perfectly styled. A designer's dream.
But it felt like a tomb.
No warmth.
No history.
No love.
A cage to keep her until the contract ended.
The housekeeper greeted her politely, treating her like just another transaction. "Dinner is ready. Your wardrobe has been delivered. If you need anything, call the number on the counter."
Aria nodded numbly.
She wanted to scream.
Cry.
Burn it all down.
Instead, she smiled softly and thanked the woman.
Because that's what she'd been taught to do: be graceful, even while drowning.
By midnight, she stood alone on the balcony, arms wrapped around herself.
The storm had passed, but the air was still thick. Her thoughts raced, trying to understand how she had gone from a girl protecting her family to a woman tossed aside like damaged goods.
She stared at the city lights.
**They called it a contract.**
But what was in the fine print?
> That she'd give up her identity.
> That she'd learn to walk beside power without ever being seen.
> That she'd break, silently, while pretending to be a queen.
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
**Blocked Number:**
> *"The article's been retracted. Your family won't be mentioned again."*
No signature.
No apology.
Just control.
Just him.
She deleted the message.
---
The next morning, Aria didn't wait for orders.
She dressed herself—in clothes she chose. Simple, neat, dignified. Not one of the branded, suffocating outfits meant to satisfy society. She brushed her hair back, tied it in a clean bun, and entered the living room with purpose.
If she was going to be erased, then she'd leave behind the one thing they couldn't control:
Her **dignity.**
She opened her laptop and typed a resignation letter to every press invite, charity organization, and event planner her "wife" status had tied her to. She canceled it all.
She wasn't their doll anymore.
She wasn't *his* anymore.
Hours passed. She didn't eat. Didn't move.
And then her phone rang again.
**Leon.**
No caller ID. Just his name. Cold. Simple. Dominant.
She stared at it for a full minute.
Then she answered.
"Aria."
Hearing her name in his voice stirred something painful inside her.
"I saw your press cancellations," he said.
"I assumed my public value expired the moment I became a risk."
A pause. Then, "You didn't need to cancel."
"Didn't I?" she whispered. "You made it clear I was just a clause."
"Stop twisting my words."
"I don't have to twist anything, Leon. You already buried me with them."
Silence.
Then his voice softened.
"The article was a lie."
"I know," she said.
"I didn't leak it."
"I never thought you did."
Another silence. A thick one.
Then:
"I've called a meeting. With your family. My legal team. We'll settle the accusation."
"You mean… *clean it up*."
"Yes."
"And then what?" she asked. "You sign a new clause? A punishment for emotional entanglement? Maybe a reminder to keep your wife at a safe emotional distance?"
His voice dropped. "Don't push me, Aria."
"I'm not pushing. I'm **finally telling the truth.** Something this marriage was never based on."
"You still signed it."
"Yes," she said, her voice cracking. "And that's on me."
Click.
The line went dead.
Three days passed.
No calls.
No texts.
Just silence.
But Aria didn't waste them.
She started writing again—something she hadn't done since the day Leon entered her life. Pages filled with thoughts she never voiced, the things she wished she'd shouted, and the wounds no one ever bandaged.
And with every word, she felt the chains loosen—just a little.
Then came a knock on the door.
It was **Selena**—her sister.
Aria froze.
Selena stood in the doorway, dressed in black, dark glasses on, as if in mourning.
"Can I come in?"
Aria nodded slowly and moved aside.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
"I saw the articles," Selena finally said.
"I figured you would."
"You didn't deserve that."
Aria looked at her. "You think I deserved to marry *your* fiancé instead?"
Selena flinched. "I was scared. I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."
"Well," Aria whispered. "Neither did I."
Selena hesitated, then placed a small USB drive on the table.
"What's that?"
"Evidence. Dad forged nothing. Someone hacked the documents. Someone with a motive to ruin both families."
Aria stared. "Why are you giving this to me?"
"Because I owe you everything," Selena whispered. "And because... Leon asked me to bring it."
Aria's heart skipped a beat.
"He what?"
"He didn't want to see you," she said. "He said… if he did, he wouldn't be able to stay cold. And he *needs* to stay cold."
Aria turned away.
That was Leon Valen.
So full of fire but buried in ice.
The next day, Aria walked into Leon's company headquarters without an appointment.
Guards hesitated at first, but one call from Leon's assistant let her through.
She stood in the glass elevator, her heart racing. She hadn't seen him in four days. Not since he had exiled her like a mistake he didn't know how to fix.
The doors opened.
His office was dark, shades half-drawn. He sat at his desk, alone, staring out the window.
He didn't turn when she entered.
"Leon."
Silence.
She placed the USB on his desk.
"It's over. We have proof."
He still didn't speak.
She took a breath. "I came to say one last thing. You don't need to forgive me. Or love me. Or even see me again."
Now he looked up.
"But I won't live like a placeholder anymore," she said firmly. "You made me sign a contract that defined how I could feel. How I could exist. But I'm tearing it up."
He stood slowly.
"You're leaving?" he asked.
"I'm *waking up*," she said. "If you want to bury your feelings in clauses and punish the world for what someone else did to you, then go ahead. But I won't be your prisoner anymore."
He stepped closer, his eyes intense.
"You think walking away makes you stronger?"
"No," she whispered. "But staying with someone who can't even admit they care would've made me weaker."
She turned to leave.
And then—
"Aria."
She froze.
"I've been rewriting the contract."
She turned, stunned. "What?"
He walked around the desk, paper in hand. One page. No paragraphs. No signatures.
Just three lines.
**No conditions.**
**No timelines.**
**Just you.**
Her hands shook.
"You don't have to stay," Leon said, his voice raw. "But if you do… this is the only contract I want."
And for the first time, she saw it.
Not the CEO.
Not the source of her pain.
But the man who had been broken long before she arrived—finally offering her the pieces.
To be continued...