Three Months to Make Him Regret

Natalie's POV

The coffee's about to spill.

I'm standing outside Adrian's study, holding his favorite black coffee—no sugar, double shot—and my entire body's frozen in place.

The door isn't closed all the way. His voice carries through crystal clear.

"Yeah, three more months and we execute the plan. Sophia deserves an answer."

My heart stops.

Sophia.

Perfect, elegant, exactly-his-type Sophia Bennett.

"I know I've dragged this out too long," Adrian continues, and there's something in his voice I've never heard before. Something soft. "But I need to make sure everything's ready. Can't afford any mistakes on this one."

The cup shakes in my hand. Dark liquid splashes onto the tray.

I step back fast, practically running to the kitchen.

Mrs. Peterson—our housekeeper—looks up, eyebrows raised. "Mrs. Blackwood? Not delivering the coffee?"

"He's on a call." My voice sounds weirdly calm. "I'll bring it later."

She gives me this look. Like she knows. But she doesn't say anything, just goes back to polishing the silverware.

I walk to the window and stare at the perfectly manicured lawn outside.

Three months.

Exactly three months left until our one-year contract expires.

Nine months ago, I honestly thought this was just a transaction.

Dad's company was going under. Creditors were banging on our door. I was this close to selling my mom's jewelry, the only thing I had left of her.

Then Adrian Blackwood showed up.

Suit perfectly tailored, looking like he stepped out of a magazine, sitting on our ratty couch like he owned the place. Which, knowing him, he probably could've bought it with pocket change.

"I have a proposal," he said, no buildup, no small talk. "One-year marriage contract. You play my wife, help me deal with my family's pressure. In exchange, I clear your father's debts. Plus monthly living expenses."

I stared at him. Thought I'd heard wrong.

"After a year," he kept going, completely unbothered by my shocked face, "we split. Clean break. You get a settlement, I get my family off my back. Win-win."

"Why me?" The words just came out.

He looked at me with those gray eyes, flat as a lake. "Because you need money and I need a wife who won't catch feelings. Your background check shows you're practical."

Background check.

He'd actually investigated me.

"This is just business," he added. "Purely transactional."

I looked at Dad's exhausted face. At the pile of debt notices on the coffee table.

Then I nodded.

"Just business," I repeated. "Got it."

I really thought I got it back then.

Being Mrs. Blackwood isn't hard.

What's hard is being Mrs. Blackwood with no soul.

I learned how to smile gracefully. Learned the right things to say at charity galas. Learned to wear those expensive but boring dresses.

I turned myself into the perfect society wife—quiet, proper, never stepping out of line.

In public, we're the envy of Manhattan.

At home, we sleep in separate rooms, keep polite distance, act more like roommates than husband and wife.

That's part of the agreement.

No emotional entanglement.

But I didn't expect that one random Wednesday morning, I'd look at him focused on his work and my heart would just... race.

Didn't expect that when he handed me his coat in the rain, that warmth would stay with me for days.

And I definitely didn't expect that night at the charity gala, when some drunk asshole grabbed me and Adrian pulled me into his arms, I'd feel so safe.

"She's my wife," he'd said, ice-cold. "Back the fuck off."

That "my wife" sounded so real.

Real enough I almost forgot we were acting.

"Natalie? Sweetheart?"

Adrian's voice snaps me back.

I turn. He's standing in the kitchen doorway, changed into his evening suit. Navy blue, makes his gray eyes look even deeper.

"Tonight's gala. You ready?"

"Of course." I flash my perfect smile. "I'll go get dressed."

Two hours later, I'm in a pale pink floor-length gown, my arm linked through Adrian's as we walk into the ballroom.

That's when I see her.

Sophia Bennett.

She's by the champagne tower in this perfectly cut silver dress, laughing with a group of business executives.

When she spots Adrian, her whole face lights up.

"Adrian!" She walks over, completely ignoring me. "Didn't think you'd make it tonight."

"Sophia." Adrian nods, then—finally—puts his hand on my waist. "You've met my wife Natalie?"

"Of course." Sophia turns to me, smile so perfect I want to slap it off her face. "Mrs. Blackwood. You look adorable tonight."

"Thanks," I say, smile locked in place. "You look great too."

The next hour is torture.

Sophia and Adrian talk about business acquisitions. Investment strategies. Things I can't even pretend to understand.

She knows every detail of his company.

She knows his favorite whiskey brand.

She even knows which tech company he's considering buying.

And me?

I know he likes his coffee black with a double shot.

I stand there like a decoration, watching them get more and more animated.

Adrian glances at me sometimes. There's apology in his eyes. But his attention always goes right back to Sophia.

My heart sinks lower and lower.

In the car ride home, I stare out the window at the city lights blurring past.

Three months from now, he'll be with her, won't he?

Perfect match. Same interests. Same world.

And I'm just temporary.

When we get home, I head straight upstairs.

"Good night," I tell Adrian. Voice flat.

"Natalie—" He stops me.

I freeze, don't turn around. Scared he'll see what's in my eyes.

"Thanks for tonight," he says. "I know those business conversations are boring."

"It's fine." I keep my back to him. "It's my job."

Job.

Right. Almost forgot this is just a job.

I walk into my bedroom and close the door.

Standing in front of the mirror, I look at myself—pale pink dress, pearl earrings, hair pinned up perfectly.

Graceful. Proper. Boring as hell.

This isn't me.

The real me likes to laugh loud. Likes statement earrings. Likes bright colors.

But I buried all that for nine months trying to be the perfect Mrs. Blackwood.

What a joke.

I worked so hard to be the perfect wife, and he's still going to marry someone else when the contract's up.

I pull off the pearl earrings. Dig through my drawer until I find the pair I hid away—big gold hoops.

My mom gave them to me. Said they were for girls with personality.

I put them on. Turn in front of the mirror.

Much better.

If I only have three months left, why am I still hiding who I am?

If he's going to choose Sophia anyway, he should at least know what he's giving up.

I smile at my reflection.

"Time to remind him what he's giving up," I say softly.