Seven Years of Bitter Juice

With a 140 IQ and exceptional spatial reasoning, I was handpicked by Declan Sterling's father, Arthur, to enter a contractual marriage. My sole purpose: to become Declan's wife in name only and produce an heir.

In seven years of marriage, I never once became pregnant.

Declan, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Over those seven years, his name was constantly plastered across the tabloids, each new conquest a model or a socialite.

Every day, I stared at the mountain of clarification statements and hush money invoices delivered by his public relations team.

I couldn't take it anymore. I finally confronted Declan.

"Let's get a divorce."

He looked at me coolly. "What game are you playing now?"

Staring at his impassive face, I didn't dissolve into the hysterical tears I once had. I just shook my head.

"I'm not playing any games."

After all, for the past seven years, to be worthy of the contract fee Arthur had paid, I had long since swallowed my pride, grinding it to dust.

I had once tearfully clutched his sleeve, pleading with him to stop seeing other women, pleading for a single scrap of genuine affection.

But each time, Declan would just look down on me, coldly spitting out a few words:

"What right do you have?"

Then, he would turn and leave without a backward glance.

That alone should have been enough to make me surrender.

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1

When the "New York Post" ran yet another exclusive featuring one of his pregnant flings, a profound exhaustion washed over me.

Not annoyance, not sadness, just a bone-deep exhaustion.

In these seven years, scenes like this had played out so many times the ache had long since faded to numbness.

Declan arrived quickly. He didn't even glance at the newspaper on the coffee table. He simply ordered security to disperse the reporters camped outside, not even deigning to glance at the paparazzi.

He walked straight up to me, took a Cartier jewelry box from the inner pocket of his suit, and held it out. His tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

"Eliza, don't be upset."

"Look, plenty of women can get pregnant with my child. But you are, and always will be, the true Mrs. Sterling. No one can touch your position."

His words were a thousand tiny needles, pricking my heart.

I glanced at the Cartier box in his hand. I didn't need to look inside to know it was another expensive diamond.

This was his usual tactic. Every time he caused a major scandal, he would use these expensive peace offerings to shut me up.

I was the laughingstock of our social circle. Everyone sneered at my supposed shrewdness, calling me the biggest winner in this whole sordid game.

His mistresses schemed for headlines and ended up with nothing, while I, supposedly, reaped all the rewards.

But they didn't know that I had long since had enough of this life.

I spoke softly.

"Declan, let's get a divorce."

"Divorce?" Declan scoffed. "Eliza Hayes, what are you playing at now? You're the one who sold yourself to this family for a million-dollar contract. And now you want out? Do you really think you can just walk away?"

At this, his fingertips gently brushed across my cheek.

"You have a high IQ and you're beautiful. You were always the most suitable person for me. Isn't being Mrs. Sterling enough for you? Just play your part."

His words instantly brought back the events of seven years ago.

At that time, my mother had suddenly fallen gravely ill. Having just graduated, I was completely unable to afford the astronomical cost of her experimental treatment.

Just as I was on the verge of collapse, I happened to see Arthur's announcement in "The Wall Street Journal" seeking a contract wife for his son.

The announcement specified the requirements for the woman's intelligence and appearance and promised a substantial sum of money.

Desperate, I sought out Arthur. Perhaps because I fit the requirements perfectly, Arthur was very pleased when he met me. Without a second thought, he gave me one million dollars, solving my crisis in an instant.

I carried the weight of that debt for seven years, doing everything in my power to repay it. Yet I had failed to fulfill the one clause that truly mattered: getting pregnant.

I knew in my heart that a great family like the Sterlings ultimately needed an heir.

But I was the one person who couldn't give the Sterling family what they hoped for.

Now that seven years had passed, I truly had no reason to keep occupying the position of Mrs. Sterling and holding up the family line.

I opened my laptop and found the contact information for Arthur's executive assistant.

"Please inform the Chairman that I am grateful for his lifesaving help seven years ago. I have returned the one million dollars in full to the family trust account. I wish to leave the Sterling family. I hope you will grant my request."