Chapter 1
I'm a hustler, through and through.
As an orphan, "self-made" isn't just a goal. It is my entire identity. My life is my own, and I answer to no one.
Until the day Richard Sinclair, a CEO from one of the country's wealthiest families, tracks me down.
His offer is brutally simple. "Be my wife. Hold down the fort at home. The salary is three million a year."
Fine, I'll admit it. My whole 'fiercely independent' act might have been a bit of a front.
I've somehow landed the ultimate gig: all the perks of motherhood with none of the pain and a husband who is great at funding my life and even better at staying out of it.
*****
"Maxine Carter. Twenty-seven. Valedictorian, with a focus in engineering. Currently the chief engineer at Northbridge Technologies," Richard Sinclair read. "Driven. Brilliant."
He scanned the file on his desk. He looked up, closing the folder.
"Now, let's talk business.
"Be my wife. You'll run the household, handling everything on the home front.
"In return, I'll pay you three million dollars a year. Plus an unlimited expense account and uncapped bonuses."
I used to scoff at the thought of being "just some guy's wife."
But faced with an offer like that? I would take it all back. Honestly, I was just fooling myself.
The negotiation was, to my shock, incredibly simple.
My job description boiled down to one non-negotiable duty: take care of his three children. I was to ensure that the chaos of family life never, ever touched him.
He pushed a prenuptial agreement across the polished mahogany.
"Ms. Carter," he said, his voice turning serious, "I need to be very clear.
"My asking you to be my wife isn't a slight. It's the opposite. I admire your capabilities.
"I'm a man who lives and breathes business, so entrusting my entire domestic life to you is the highest form of respect I can offer. This isn't a decision I've made lightly."
I nodded, getting it completely. A man who measured his time in millions of dollars per minute wasn't about to waste it on PTA meetings and scraped knees.
"After all," he added with a dismissive wave of his hand, "even if my kids turn out to be total screw-ups, my fortune is large enough to coast them through several generations."
Which was why he was so monumentally fed up with their constant, desperate ploys for his attention.
A few minutes at the city hall was all it took. Just like that, I was married.
Richard let out a long sigh, as if a massive weight had been lifted. He gave me a brief hug. The following words were tinged with a practiced sort of guilt.
"I apologize, but I have a flight to catch for an overseas trip. I can't take you home.
"I'll have my assistant, Alex Cooper, drive you. The butler has already prepared everything. The kids are home from school. You can get acquainted."
He started to leave but paused as if ticking off a final box on a checklist. He leaned in and gave me a brisk air-kiss near my cheek.
"You've worked hard, Mrs. Sinclair."
I had to bite back a laugh. The man was a total robot.
The kind of luxury car I couldn't even dream of affording delivered me to a mansion straight out of a movie.
At the grand entrance, a butler with a perfectly respectful demeanor greeted me. "Welcome home, Mrs. Sinclair. I'm Layton Williams."
I gave a slight nod and followed him into a cavernous living room. The three kids were here.
The oldest, Andrew Sinclair, stood in a pristine school uniform, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He wore a pair of lensless glasses, and his eyes were doing a silent, methodical scan of me from head to toe.
He was the quiet type, but you could tell he was a total schemer.
The middle child, Sophia Sinclair, was sporting a spaghetti strap top and a mini skirt.
Her smoky eyeshadow was dramatic, and her jewelry was so sparkly.
Chewing gum with an open mouth, she looked me up and down with pure disdain.
She was a total e-girl, and I would bet my first million-dollar bonus she had a weakness for bad boys and was a terrible judge of character.
And the youngest, Lucas Sinclair, was standing defiantly on top of the velvet sofa, with his little hands planted on his hips, glaring daggers at me.
He was, without a doubt, a certified wild child.
I took them all in and offered a breezy smile.
"Hi, I'm..."
Before I could finish, Lucas pointed a finger at me.
"Layton! Who is she? Why is she in our house? Get her out!"
Layton shot me an apologetic glance, explaining, "Mr. Lucas Sinclair, that's no way to behave. This is your new mother."
"Oh, please!" Lucas shrieked. "You're lying! Dad didn't say anything!"
Lucas was lying, of course. Richard had definitely called. This was just Act One of "Let's Humiliate the New Stepmom."
Unfazed, I coolly pulled the marriage certificate from my purse and held it up.
"Fully legal and government-approved," I said with a little smirk. "You can call me Mom now."
Lucas scrambled off the couch and stomped right up to me.
"Call you Mom? In your dreams! I'm calling Dad right now, and he'll kick you out!" he yelled.
"Mr. Lucas Sinclair..." Layton began, trying to intervene.
I held up a hand and said, "It's fine. Let him call."
Feeling challenged, Lucas was more furious.
"You think I won't?"
He angrily jabbed at his smartwatch. A sterile, automated voice echoed in the silent room.
"We're sorry, but the number you have dialed is not available at this time."
He stared at his watch in disbelief, frantically mashing the screen.
Sophia let out a bored scoff, commenting, "Lame."
She grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and started for the stairs.
Seeing how her miniskirt was practically revealing her butt, I decided to step in.
"Hold up," I said.
She paused on the step, turning to give me an annoyed look.
"What?"
I tilted my head, letting my eyebrows furrow in disapproval.
"That outfit. It's not exactly school-appropriate, is it?"
She just flipped me off.
"My own dad doesn't get a say in what I wear," she sneered. "Who the hell do you think you are?"
As she turned to stomp up the stairs, I got in one last dig. "It's not just tacky,' I said. "It's flat-out ugly."