Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You Chapter 62: She Wants to Talk

Sarah

I see the na on the screen and it makes my blood boil.

Amanda.

The woman he’s been waiting for and rejecting over and over again.

Matthew snatches the phone off the desk without even blinking, as if I am not even here.

The air turns ice cold.

I take a step back, arms folding over my chest as he presses the phone to his ear.

"Amanda," he says, his voice tight, full of emotions.

I want to hate how quickly he answers. I want to hate how his face changes.

I should leave. I should turn on my heel and walk out of this office with my head high, my pride intact.

But I don’t.

I stay, watching, waiting.

"...Yeah," Matthew says, rubbing his jaw. "I know."

I can’t hear her and it is killing . What is she saying?

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the desk. "When?" he asks eagerly.

My stomach twists, my fingernails biting into my arms as I squeeze them tighter around myself. He sounds eager. Desperate, even.

For her.

I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing my expression to stay neutral even as my heart clenches.

Matthew nods to whatever she’s saying, his fingers drumming against the desk. He hasn’t looked at once since picking up that call. It’s like I disappeared the second her na flashed on the screen.

I stand there, feeling like an idiot, like a child waiting for attention that will never co. He’s hanging onto her every word, nodding like she holds the universe in her hands. Like I never even existed.

The paper bag with the half-eaten Thai food sits on his desk, forgotten. Just like .

He finally hangs up after what felt like an eternity and looks at .

For a mont, I see sothing like guilt flash across his face. But it’s quickly replaced with that distant look—the one I’ve co to recognize when he’s thinking about her.

"She wants to talk," he says. "Tonight."

"I see," I manage, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. "After a month?"

He runs his hand through his hair. "She said being away from gave her the space she needed, and she is now ready to talk."

"Right," I say, my voice nearly a whisper. "And what about you, Matthew? Have you just been sitting around, waiting for her to decide when you’re worth her ti again?"

His jaw tightens. "It’s not like that."

"Isn’t it?" I challenge, stepping closer.

"I’ve always loved Amanda. We have been together for a while, and she has every right to be angry at because of what we did," he says sharply. If she wants to give another chance, I will be a fool not to take it."

"She leaves without listening to you. No calls, no ssages. Nothing. And now you are going to drop everything for her," I scoff.

He exhales heavily, looking down at his desk, at anything but . "Sarah, I know this isn’t what you want to hear—"

"No, Matthew," I snap and walk out of the office.

I can’t believe this is happening. Who does Amanda think she is? Just when things were going well with and Matthew...

I halt as an idea cos to mind.

An idea that is twisted and sowhat cruel, but it may change the course of things. It may still get what I want.

I pull out my phone as I storm through the hallway.

I duck into the empty conference room at the end of the hall, locking the door behind . My hands are shaking as I scroll through my calendar app, counting days, calculating.

Twenty-seven days since my last period. Not late enough to be concerning, but close enough to be believable.

I stare at my reflection in the darkened window, watching my own face transform as the idea takes root.

It’s wrong. It’s manipulative. It’s exactly the kind of thing that would confirm what Matthew thinks about .

"Spoiled princess," I mutter to my reflection. "Daddy’s little girl who always gets what she wants."

Is this who I am? Soone who would lie about sothing so serious just to keep a man?

I sink into one of the leather chairs, my mind racing. The boat, that night under the stars. The way he kissed like he ant it. The way his fingers trembled slightly against my cheek.

He felt sothing. I know he did.

And now Amanda calls, and he’s ready to run back to her without a second thought.

"No," I whisper, straightening my spine. "Not this ti."

I’ve never been the girl who loses. I’ve never been the one left behind. Sarah Wilson doesn’t co in second place—not in business, not in life, and certainly not in love.

I pull up the browser on my phone, typing "early pregnancy symptoms" into the search bar. Morning sickness. Fatigue. Mood swings. Tender breasts. Food cravings or aversions.

Simple enough to fake. Believable enough to buy ti.

Ti to make Matthew see what’s right in front of him. Ti to make him realize that what we have is worth fighting for.

I know it’s desperate. I know it’s wrong. But the thought of him with Amanda, of losing him before we’ve even had a chance, makes my chest ache in a way I’ve never felt before.

"Just long enough to make him see," I justify to myself, already planning how to play this. "Just until he realizes he doesn’t want her anymore."

I spend the next hour researching, planning, and preparing. By the ti I leave the conference room, my decision is made.

I spend the afternoon in etings, smiling through presentations while my mind churns with possibilities. With each passing hour, my plan crystallizes. By evening, I’ve convinced myself it’s the only way.

I even purchased a fake pregnancy test and ultrasonogram picture online, which, surprisingly, is not so hard to find.

At ho, I stand in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. "You’re pregnant," I whisper, testing how the words feel in my mouth. "You’re carrying Matthew’s baby."

The lie tastes bitter, but I push down the guilt. I think about Matthew with Amanda tonight, reconciling, falling back into their comfortable pattern while I’m left alone, discarded after that magical night on the water.

I splash cold water on my face and change into silk pajamas. Then I pick up my phone and type out a ssage to Matthew: I need to see you tomorrow. It’s important.

Simple. Direct. Just enough urgency to make him concerned.

His reply cos faster than I expected: I’m eting with the Carter Group all morning. Can it wait until afternoon?

I type back: 3 pm. I can’t wait any longer than that.

I put my phone down and lie in my bed. My mind says this was a bad idea, but my heart...it only wants to do whatever it takes to have Matthew.