The Billionaire's Contract Lover

CHAPTER 1

The Beginning

“Ruby!”

The voice cracked through the hallway like a whip.

“How many times must I call you before you answer?”

Ruby halted mid step, the weight of the laundry basket digging into her arms. She drew in a slow, steadying breath. That tone—sharp, impatient, laced with irritation—had become the constant soundtrack of her life.

“Yes, ma,” she replied softly as she stepped into the living room.

Vivian Cole stood waiting, arms folded with calculated elegance, her manicured nails tapping rhythmically against her elbow. Beside her, Clara lounged on the couch like royalty, legs stretched comfortably, eyes glued to her phone screen.

“What took you so long?” Vivian demanded.

“I was hanging the clothes outside,” Ruby murmured.

Clara finally looked up, a mocking smirk tugging at her lips. “And you couldn’t run? Honestly, Ruby, you walk like someone twice your age.”

Heat crawled up Ruby’s neck, humiliation prickling under her skin, but she kept her head lowered. “I’m sorry.”

Vivian scoffed. “Sorry, don't cook dinner. Move to the kitchen and start preparing food before your laziness keeps us all waiting.”

“But… I haven’t finished cleaning the rooms,” Ruby said quietly.

Vivian’s gaze sharpened. “Did I ask for an update on your chores? Or are you now bold enough to argue with me?”

“No, ma,” Ruby whispered.

“Good. Now move.”

Ruby nodded and hurried toward the kitchen, feeling Clara’s satisfied stare boring into her back.

The moment she crossed the threshold, her chest tightened. Her eyes stung. Another day begins with insults, a reminder that in her own father’s house… she was nothing more than a servant.

Ruby hadn’t always lived this way.

There was a time—distant, tender, almost dreamlike—when love danced freely in the walls of this home. Her childhood had been filled with warm laughter, her mother’s humming drifting through the air, and her father’s terrible dancing that somehow made everything funnier.

Her mother, Pamela Cole, had been her sun—gentle, nurturing, and endlessly patient. Her father adored them both, the three of them forming a world Ruby believed would last forever.

But forever ended when Ruby turned nine.

Pamela’s illness began quietly, stealing her strength little by little until there was nothing left to fight with. Ruby remembered holding her mother’s hands, feeling the warmth slip away day by day. She remembered the nights spent praying, the mornings spent hoping, the evening her mother whispered, “Be strong, my Ruby,” before her voice faded like a candle’s last breath.

The night her mother died, something inside Ruby broke beyond repair.

It broke the family love, a once United home shattered in one night.

Shortly after Vivian came like a nightmare, she entered their lives when Ruby was eleven—beautiful, sophisticated, and smiling a smile that never reached her eyes. When Anderson introduced her as a “friend,” Ruby had felt her stomach tighten, though she didn’t understand why.

Vivian touched Ruby’s hair the first day they met and said, “Oh, she’s cute, fragile like a stray kitten.”

Ruby smiled