Chasing His Ex-Wife Back (Billionaire Contract Wife)

Alice’s POV

“Congratulations, Mrs. Markston. You’re pregnant… with twins.”

The doctor’s voice was calm, almost cheerful, but the words struck me like thunder. Pregnant? With twins? My mouth fell open, yet no sound came out.

I shook my head, stammering, “B-but I’ve been taking the pills.”

The doctor tilted her head slightly, concern flickering across her face. “Is there any day you missed taking them?”

My hands tightened on my lap. I searched my memory but found nothing certain. Lately, my mind has been foggy, always drifting in confusion, too many worries clawing at me. Had I… forgotten? “I… I don’t remember,” I muttered, my throat dry.

“Sometimes pills don’t work,” she said softly. Then, after a pause, her voice lowered, almost hesitant. “Don’t you want the child, ma?”

My lips parted, the truth spilling out before I could stop it. “I don’t.”

Her words echoed in the sterile hospital room, bouncing against the walls of my heart. My mind dragged me back two years, to Vicent’s cold office, the smell of leather and expensive cologne filling the air. He had handed me the document with his usual detached expression.

“You will be my contract wife,” he’d said.

I remembered my eyes scanning the fine print, my stomach tightening when I reached the third clause. "No children in the marriage."

“Mrs. Markston,” the doctor’s voice broke into my memories again, pulling me back. “But you’ll have to take care of these children. I noticed your uterus is slightly deformed. Getting pregnant again… might be impossible.”

The words pierced me deeper than I expected. Impossible?

I forced a small smile, though my chest felt like stone. “Thank you so much, Doctor.” My voice was polite, brittle, hollow. I stood up, gathering my things with trembling hands.

The drive home was silent except for the hum of the engine. My mind drifted to the early days of our marriage. That first year, Vicent had been… perfect. Gentle, attentive, even affectionate at times. He had made me break the first clause of our contract—the one that forbade me from falling in love.

But everything changed when she returned. His first love. The woman who had been away receiving treatment abroad. From that day on, Vicent’s warmth had turned to ice.

I pulled into our driveway, my hands gripping the wheel even after I turned off the engine. I sat there for a while, staring blankly at the gates of the house I no longer considered home. Marriage was supposed to be built on love and trust, but for Vicent… marriage was a business deal.

From the very start, he had made it clear:

"You’ll be my contract wife. You won’t meddle in my private life. I wouldn’t have married you if my first love wasn’t severely ill. I just needed a wife in name—for the company."

I could still hear his cold, steady voice as if he were sitting beside me now.

When I finally entered the mansion, the silence wrapped around me like a shroud. I went straight to the bathroom, peeling off my clothes, and sank into the bathtub. Warm water closed over me, but it did little to wash away the fog in my head.

This was all a deal. No feelings attached. That was the mantra I repeated to myself, even as my heart bled with memories of the past two years.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror afterward, standing naked in the dim light of our bedroom. My body looked the same—flat stomach, no sign of life inside me. Yet I knew the truth. I pressed my palm against my belly. Inside me, two fragile beings had begun to grow.

My stomach growled loudly, reminding me of the present. I slipped on a robe and dragged myself to the kitchen. Cooking for myself only—long ago, I’d stopped preparing meals for Vicent. Either he ignored the food, threw it away, or insulted me for the effort.

I pushed those thoughts aside as I focused on the small meal in front of me. I had to protect them now—these little ones. They were all I had.

After eating, exhaustion consumed me. I drifted to the living room and fell asleep on the couch.

A sudden knock startled me awake. My robe loosened as I stood up, hastily tying the belt. Who could it be at this hour? It couldn’t be Vincent—he knew the code.

When I opened the door, my heart skipped. His friend was there, holding him up by the shoulders. Vincent was slumped, clearly drunk.

“What happened?” I asked, worry slipping out despite myself.

The friend smirked mischievously. “Oh, he wanted to celebrate my return. Have some fun, you know?”

I ignored the teasing tone and held out my arms. “Just hand him over. I’ll take care of him.”

“Alright. Goodnight.” His friend winked, handing Vicent to me before strolling away.

I pulled Vicent inside, shutting the door with a quiet thud. My gaze lingered on his face. Even drunk, he looked impossibly composed, heartbreakingly handsome. A man I loved but could never trust.

I had wanted to tell him tonight. About the twins. About everything. But looking at him now, unconscious and smelling of alcohol, I knew this wasn’t the right time.

Sighing, I loosened his tie. As I reached for his jacket, a light lit up from his inner pocket. His phone.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then curiosity and fear got the better of me. I slid it out and glanced at the glowing screen.

One message. Just one, but it shattered me.

Vicent darling, remember our plans to visit the hot spring tomorrow. I reserved a suite at the bar for us.

My hand trembled. The phone slipped from my grip and landed with a dull thud on the bed.

My body felt weak, my heart screaming silently. Tears stung my eyes as I whispered, “Of course. Her.”

Everyone in the company knew her name—his first love. Vicent Markston’s heartthrob. And worse… she was my stepsister. The perfect daughter of my mother, the same mother who had abandoned me and my father without a second thought.

Now she is back. And she had him again.

I tightened the robe around me, turned my back to Vicent’s sleeping figure, and let the tears fall freely.

Inside me, two tiny lives grew quietly. The only proof that I still had something worth holding onto.