The Contract Bride of Westwood

Melanie stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her dress down with both palms. The deep green satin hugged her curves modestly, flaring slightly at the hem. Her makeup was light, her hair pinned up with a few curls trailing down one side of her face. Not too flashy, but not too plain either.

This was her first formal dinner as a student at Harrington's, and even if she tried not to overthink it—she still did. The reflection staring back at her looked composed, but her stomach fluttered with nerves.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave herself a final nod.

"You've got this," she whispered under her breath.

Downstairs, her assigned driver was already waiting in the black sedan. As she stepped out of the house and into the warm evening air, she felt a breeze lift the edge of her dress.

"The Hilton," she said when the driver opened the car door for her.

"Yes, ma'am."

The ride wasn't long, but her heart didn't calm the entire way. Her hands stayed clasped in her lap, fingers lightly trembling. She'd faced worse—public humiliation, betrayal, family scandals—but something about tonight felt different. Maybe because this was hers. A piece of her life that wasn't tied to Leonard or her past. This was about her dream.

When she arrived at the Hilton's rooftop restaurant, it glowed like something out of a movie. Soft lights bathed the tables in golden warmth, candles flickered in crystal holders, and strings of fairy lights traced the edges of the rooftop.

She stepped out of the car slowly, her heels clicking softly on the stone floor. People were already seated, chatting, sipping drinks, exchanging stories.

Inside, the restaurant was stunning. Crystal chandeliers hung above cream-and-gold decor. Tables sparkled with polished cutlery and centerpieces of white orchids. The air buzzed with soft music and new conversations.

She exchanged polite smiles and responded with quiet hellos, but mostly kept to herself, taking in the view from a quiet corner.

Then came the whispers.

"Isn't that Leonard Westwood's wife?"

"The billionaire?"

"Why's she even here?"

"She married him just for his money."

"She's married and still wants to be a designer?"

She tried to tune it out, but it stuck to her skin like static. No matter what she did or how she tried to live, she was always someone's wife. Someone's scandal. Never just... Melanie.

A breath caught in her throat. She needed air.

She quietly stepped outside onto the balcony. The cool breeze kissed her face, calming her heated skin. City lights stretched before her, glowing like stars that had fallen just far enough to tease her dreams.

"Beautiful view," a voice said beside her.

She turned slightly.

A guy, probably around her age, stood a few feet away. He was tall, clean-cut, with an easy smile and dark brown eyes that weren't too intense. His suit wasn't designer-level, but he wore it well.

"Yeah," she replied. "It really is."

"I'm Jason," he said, holding out a hand.

She hesitated for a second before shaking it. "Melanie."

"Nice to meet you, Melanie. I haven't seen you around campus much."

"It's only my second day," she replied.

He laughed lightly. "So I'm not totally out of the loop, then."

Melanie smiled. It was a real one.

Jason studied her for a moment. "You're really pretty, by the way."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Thank you… but I'm with someone."

He raised his hands, a small laugh escaping his lips. "Oh, I know. Leonard Westwood. Kind of hard to miss that headline."

She tensed, but his voice stayed gentle.

"Don't worry," he added. "I'm not trying to steal you. Just… make a new friend. You're in design. So am I. We'll probably see each other again."

She relaxed slightly. "Fair enough."

"I know it's awkward to exchange numbers, but… if you ever need help with a class project or want someone to sit with at lunch, I'm around."

Melanie hesitated.

Then Jason tilted his head. "Besides… even birds in golden cages need a friend to fly with sometimes."

That one caught her off guard. She stared at him for a second before chuckling softly. "That's… weirdly poetic."

"I try."

Against her better judgment, she handed him her number.

They chatted a little longer before heading back inside. Jason introduced her to a few other newbies. They didn't seem overly interested in her status, which was a relief.

Dinner was pleasant. The food was delicious—grilled salmon over creamy risotto, tiny fruit tarts for dessert. The conversation was light, the ambiance warm. She even laughed once or twice.

It felt good. Like a glimpse of the normal life she used to know. A sliver of happiness she hadn't realized she missed so much.

When the event ended and students began saying their goodbyes, Jason turned to her again.

"I can have my driver pick us both up," he offered casually.

Melanie shook her head. "That's sweet, but my driver is already here. Thank you, though."

"Anytime," Jason said with a grin. "Goodnight, Melanie."

"Goodnight."

She climbed into the backseat of her car and leaned back against the headrest. Her heart was calm now. She had survived it. The stares, the whispers, the awkwardness of being "Leonard Westwood's wife." She had enjoyed herself. Made a friend. And taken one more step toward her dream.

When she got home, the manor was still and quiet. She thanked the driver, then went upstairs, changed into a sweatshirt and leggings, and finally crawled into bed. She picked up her phone and sent a message.

Melanie: Got home safe.

She didn't expect an immediate reply. Leo was likely asleep or working. Still, she sent it.

Her eyes closed slowly, her body curling beneath the comforter. Her lips curved slightly at the thought of how far she'd come in such a short time. Just a few weeks ago, she was broken, left behind, unsure if she could ever trust again.

Now?

Now she was healing.

Her life was beginning to shift.

Her dreams were building again—one day, one class, one sketch at a time.

She didn't know what would happen tomorrow.

But she was trying.

And somewhere far from the warmth of Westwood Manor, in a dark and empty room, a voice whispered softly, chilling the air like ice over still water—

"She's building everything back up again... Good. The higher she climbs, the sweeter it'll be to watch her fall."