I Fled the Wedding and Came Back With a Contract Husband Chapter 01

I Fled the Wedding and Came Back With a Contract Husband Chapter 01

The moment I learned my childhood sweetheart and fiancé had a child with the fake heiress, I fled the country.

Before boarding, my phone buzzed nonstop with messages from him.

[It’s not what you think. I can explain.]

[Don’t be difficult. The wedding is still on.]

[Answer the phone. I’m begging you.]

He’d rejected every advance I’d made, yet here he was with a three-year-old child with her.

I stared at the screen, at that word “beg” from a man who’d always been so composed, and my finger hovered over the power button for a full thirty seconds.

Then I pulled out the SIM card and snapped it in half.

It wasn’t until five years later, when my mother was critically ill, that I returned home.

I was dragging my suitcase through arrivals when someone blocked my path.

Nathan Caldwell had aged. He was thinner than before, his gaze heavier.

His custom black coat emphasized his lean frame, and the plain gold band on his ring finger caught the harsh terminal light.

They were married.

—

That realization hit me, and I felt nothing.

He stood directly in the exit, his assistant cowering behind him from the weight of his silence.

When he saw me, his throat moved. “Emily.”

I didn’t respond. I pulled my suitcase and tried to walk around him.

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His palm was burning hot, his grip tight enough to bruise.

“The car’s outside,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

I glanced down at the ring, dull white in the rainy light, and gave him a flat smile. “No need, Mr. Caldwell. I called a ride.”

“Mr. Caldwell” hit him like a slap. His fingers tightened, and I nearly winced.

“Emily Hartwell.” His voice was low, ragged with exhaustion. “Five years. You’ve hidden from me for five years. Isn’t that enough?”

I met his eyes. I’d known this face for eighteen years.

We’d run through mud together in diapers, climbed trees, and he’d intercepted every love letter sent my way in middle school.

When we came of age, our families had sealed the engagement, and he’d promised to take care of me forever.

I fell for him at fourteen, confessed at eighteen, and waited until twenty-two to marry him.

Instead, I found out he had a child with my stepsister.

“Not enough.” I pulled my wrist free. “A lifetime wouldn’t be enough.”

His face went pale. He opened his mouth to speak.

I cut him off. “Move. I need to sign her critical condition form.”

He froze, like he’d just remembered why I was back.

“I’ve already arranged everything,” he said quickly. “I brought in a team from Boston, and we’re matching for a liver donor. The car is waiting. I’ll take you.”

I hesitated for three seconds, then got in his car.

The drive was silent except for the windshield wipers. He didn’t play music or talk, just glanced at me at red lights before looking away.

Through the window, I watched the city slide past. The old ice cream parlor was gone, replaced by a new bridge, and the high school had been renovated.

“Your room at the estate hasn’t changed,” he said suddenly. “Your mother has it cleaned every week. That mint plant on your windowsill is still alive—it’s been repotted three times.”

“Your grandfather wants to see you. After your mother’s surgery, if you don’t want to see them… I’ll handle it.”