"Sign it or get out!"
Ethan Grant sat upright on the sofa, his words as cold as ice. His collar was casually unbuttoned, revealing his delicate collarbones.
At this moment, the richest man in Veridia was extremely irritated. His frigid eyes were full of ice chips, his elegant brows were furrowed, and his fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the arm of the sofa.
Opposite him sat a petite beauty, her hands resting uneasily on her knees. Her eyes were vacant, and she looked as if she had lost all will to live.
She, Shirley Thorne, had been a kindhearted big sister helping a child cross the street just two hours ago. But then disaster struck. A speeding truck had flashed past in an instant.
When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on the massive bed of a presidential suite. Bodyguards in black had then dragged her out, turning her into the "lucky girl" about to marry the richest man in Veridia.
And yes, "lucky" definitely belonged in quotation marks.
This tycoon was said to be a jinx to his wives. He'd had three marriages, and every single one ended in divorce, without exception.
However, the body's original owner had been stubborn enough to accept the marriage contract. Her reason was brutally practical: she wanted to use her dowry to pay her brother's bride price.
Shirley Thorne was at a loss for words.
'What kind of saint was this body's original owner? Why wasn't she in the Peace Corps?!'
Although being a tycoon's wife sounded tempting, she decided against signing for the sake of her own life.
"Have you made your decision?" The man's cool, husky voice drifted down from above, the impatience in his eyes practically overflowing.
It had been a long time since he'd felt so explosively irritated. If he didn't desperately need a trophy wife, he wouldn't have given this woman a second glance.
If this woman still refused to budge and insisted on three hundred million, he would have no choice but to compromise for now.
Shirley Thorne felt like the tycoon was about to fly into a rage and hit her. She shivered in fear. Just as she was about to refuse, she suddenly heard him say, "One hundred million. Five years."
'What? One hundred million?'
'What kind of money is a hundred million?'
'If I put that in a high-yield savings account, the interest alone would be more than ten thousand a day!'
'Isn't this the ultimate dream? Making money while doing absolutely nothing?'
"I'll sign!"
Shirley Thorne nodded emphatically, grabbed a pen from the holder, and without another word, signed her full name on the agreement.
'As for him jinxing his wives?'
'That's just unreliable superstition!'
'All I have to do is play the part of a loving couple for five years, handle the media, and be respectful to his family?'
'I can do that!'
A flicker of surprise crossed Ethan Grant's crystalline eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked. "There are no take-backs."
"No need, no need." Shirley Thorne shook her head so fast it was a blur. Her eyes blazed like fire as she stared obsessively at the contract, flipping through and signing page after page.
Shirley was so focused on signing that she had no idea her actions were causing a tidal wave of suspicion in the tycoon's mind.
Ethan Grant's piercing eyes were fixed on the foolish woman giggling across from him. He tried to find a crack in her facade; he refused to believe someone could change so drastically in such a short amount of time.
Just moments ago, she had adamantly refused to sign for anything less than three hundred million, not willing to give an inch. But now, she looked as ecstatic as a lottery winner. After signing, she was even hugging the contract, giggling foolishly.
But after staring for a long while, all he accomplished was making Shirley shiver with cold and fear. Having found nothing, Ethan Grant retracted his grim gaze and shook his head, speechless. "Go get changed. We're heading to the hotel."
Shirley snapped out of her daze and looked down. She was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts—definitely not the kind of outfit a tycoon's wife should be wearing.
She stood up, carefully set down her precious contract, and skipped over to the suite's walk-in closet. When she opened it, she found it was filled with high-end formal wear.
As an overworked designer in the fashion industry in her past life, she could tell at a glance that these gowns were incredibly valuable. Each one was practically a limited-edition piece worth millions.
Shirley Thorne shed tears of pure bliss.
She silently asked the heavens, 'Is this paradise?'
Just as she was basking in her emotions, the pocket of her shorts began to vibrate. She pulled out her phone and saw the name on the screen: Gideon Thorne.
'Gideon Thorne? The Vampire of a brother who sold his own sister for bride price money?'
Shirley Thorne answered the call, only to be met with an aggressive voice from the other end.
"What's taking so long? Hurry up and transfer the money! I need it now!"