I Married The 'Broke' Billionaire

I could see floating live-chat comments from the future. And that little trick saved me from dozens of cheating scumbags. But today, my adoptive parents gave me an ultimatum. I had to pick a fiancé, or else… The family’s real daughter, Wendy Wellington, who was recently found and welcomed back with open arms, clutched my hands. Tears welled in her eyes as she pointed to a man in a wheelchair. The man, Harry Peterson, wore a faded undershirt and a tattered blanket over his knees. Word on the street was that he had gone bankrupt, owing over a hundred million dollars. "Sister, my health is too fragile for a hard life," Wendy sniffled while trying to hide her smirk. "What would people say if the real heiress was seen riding a public bus? “You’re so much stronger than me. Do this one for the sake of the family." She glanced over at a guy leaning against a blood-red Ferrari nearby. "I’ll handle the billionaire’s son," she added quickly. "You shouldn't be blinded by money to make a mistake." I looked at Harry in the wheelchair. Floating right above his head was a wall of glowing comments. “LOL! She’s dumping the city’s richest hidden billionaire for a guy who’s going to prison next week?” “He’s only playing broke and disabled to catch his rivals off guard. Once he clears his name next month, his net worth is going to skyrocket!” I squeezed my sister’s hands tight and a sweet smile spread across my face. "Since you've put so much thought into my future, I would hate to disappoint you," I said. "I'll take the guy in the wheelchair.” Chapter 1 My adoptive mother, Sarah Wellington, slammed the agreement onto the table in front of me. "Sign it, Clara. After today, you don't get a single dime from this family." I picked up the Waiver of Family Trust Fund Rights and flipped through the pages. Wendy leaned against Victor Jackson, her new fiancé, giggling into her hand. "Don't feel too bad, Clara," she purred. "Marrying Harry is a generosity. “A bankrupt cripple and an adopted orphan? People will say it's a match made in heaven." My adoptive father, Killian Wellington, tapped his knuckles on the heavy mahogany desk. "We raised you for twenty years. It is fair not to ask for anything in return." I flipped to the final page and hovered my pen over the signature line. "Once I sign this, any future favors you ask from me will be treated as loans, not debts of gratitude." Sarah's face instantly darkened. "You haven't even left this house, and you're already saying all these?" Wendy walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder, her voice dripping with fake sweet concern. "Clara, don't upset Mom and Dad. You can't keep the family name to avoid stealing your sister's spotlight." I pressed the pen to the paper and signed my name. A string of bright comments floated across the pages. “Sign it! That paper won't even be worth using as toilet paper in a month.” “She's walking away from a few million to claim a multi-billion-dollar empire!” I pushed the agreement back across the desk. "Keep it safe. Don't come crawling to me when your pockets are empty, I do not owe you a dime." The smile froze on Wendy's face. "You act so tough for someone that is about to start eating out of trash can." Victor whistled and spun his Ferrari keys around his finger. "Harry, she's all yours. Take your trash and make sure she never comes back to beg." Sitting calmly in the wheelchair, Harry raised his eyes and his cold gaze landed on my worn-out handbag. "Ready to go?" he asked. I picked up my bag. "Fully ready." Sarah yelled at me as I turned around. "Once you step out of that door, you are no longer part of this family!" I didn't look back. I just adjusted the strap on my shoulder. "Make sure you do not forget that too." --- Harry brought me to a rundown, leaking apartment on the edge of town. The door lock stuck three times before it finally clicked open. In the corner, a plastic bucket caught drips of water from the ceiling. He wheeled himself over to the small table and set down two plates of instant noodles. "This is all I have." I sat down and took the spoon. "Hope it's delicious?" He paused, staring at me for a split second before sliding a small shaker over. "Are you not going to whine and complain about this?" "Back at my family house," I said while taking a mouthful, "I only got cold leftovers after washing the dishes.” Chapter 2 I quickly finished the noodles and picked up the plate. Harry stared at me. "Did you really eat that all?" "Two plates for a dollar. Nothing gets wasted." I picked the plate up and picked every noodles left, putting them in my mouth. His fingers tapped twice against his armrest. "Clara, you don't need to put on an act to prove you're poor." I set the empty plate down. "And you don't need to play the tough guy. I know your leg hurts." His brows furrowed instantly. "Who told you that?" A floating comment hovered right near his knee. “His old injury is flaring up! The pain-relief balm is on the third shelf of the cardboard box in the corner.” I walked over, dug through the box and pulled out the bottle of balm. Harry reached out to block me. "Don't bother." "If you pass out from the pain, who's going to sign our marriage certificate tomorrow?" He hesitated, then slowly dropped his hand. I rolled up his pant leg and hurled the balm into my palm. A deep, faint scar stretched across his leg. As I rubbed the balm on it, his muscles clenched hard like rock. "Tell me if it hurts." "You seem pretty experienced at this," he muttered, his voice tight. "My adoptive parents used to make me kneel by the outdoor sink in mid-winter. I had to rub my own joints to keep them moving." He didn't ask another question. I capped the bottle and put it back. Out of nowhere, he asked, "Clara, are you here for me, or are you here because of the rumors about me?" I looked up and met his gaze. "If it was about your past, a girl like me wouldn't even stand a chance. “I wouldn't have to wait in line, and I wouldn't even beg." He searched my eyes for a long moment. "So, you got what you wanted because I was broke." The floating comments blew up. “He remembered that! He actually remembered!” “He can pretend to be bankrupt, but he can't pretend he doesn't care.” My phone buzzed with a screenshot. Wendy had posted a photo on social media. A designer bag perched on the hood of Victor's Ferrari. “Real heiresses don't settle for trash in a wheelchair,” the caption read. She even tagged me. Harry asked while adjusting his brakes, "Who's that?" I deleted the post and blocked her. "Just someone looking for attention." The floating comment started flashing aggressively with new comments. “That bag is an $80 knockoff! Victor bought two for one.” “The real flex is that dusty red cord on his table. That’s the master seal key for the entire Harry estate!” I glanced toward the corner of the table. A faded red cord was tied around an old, oxidized copper seal, looking completely unremarkable. Harry followed my gaze. "Don't touch it. Just old junk." "Keep it safe anyway," I said, looking away. "Don't let someone sell it to a scrap metal yard by mistake." A faint, rare smile tugged at his lip. "Did you get paid today?" "Yeah. Five hundred bucks. After rent, I've got two hundred left." "Anything you want to buy?" I turned my phone around to show him a listing on a secondhand app. "Anti-slip tires for your wheelchair. Lightly used, thirty bucks." Harry frowned. "For me?" "Your tires were slipping yesterday. You almost rolled down the hill. "You don't have much money to spare. "That's why I'm buying used." --- I went downstairs to pick up the delivery. When I got back, I knelt beside his wheelchair to swap out the tires. The bolt was rusted tight. I put my weight into the wrench, and my sleeve slipped down, exposing a jagged old scar on my wrist. Harry’s hand clamped over the tool, stopping me. "How did you get this?" I yanked my sleeve down. "Frostbite." "Who left you out in the cold?" "The family would just deny it anyway. No point asking." He didn't let go of the wrench. "Clara." I raised my head. "Don't investigate me like a crime scene. I'm not a piece of evidence." His fingers stiffened on the handle. "I was just asking." "And I answered." I took back the wrench and kept turning the bolt. He paused for a long beat. "What do you want?" "What?" "A designer bag, a car, a house, or money?" I snapped the new tire securely into place. "My final performance review at work is next week. Just promise me you won't get into trouble." His eyebrows twitched. "That's all?" "Keeping my job is a lot more practical than owning a purse." Harry engaged the new brake, and the wheel locked firmly in place. "What do you do at your company?" "Entry-level data analyst. Minimum wage now, a bump up once I pass probation." "Does anyone pick on you?" "It's a company, not a charity. People take credit for your work all the time." He stared at my wrist. "Your hand is shaking." I tossed the wrench back into the toolbox. "Just cold." He took off his heavy jacket and threw it over my shoulders. "Put it on." "Aren't you cold?" "My legs are paralyzed, not the rest of my body." I placed the jacket right back over his knees. "Then keep them warm. We have to take photos for the marriage certificate tomorrow. I don't need you looking like a corpse." He pressed his lips together, silent for a long moment. "You really have a sharp mouth, Clara." I picked up the toolbox. "If you're poor, you have to be outspoken or people will break your bones." The floating chat froze for a second before cascading into chaos. “Oh man, his heart just melted.” “Day one of pretending to be broke, and his new wife is already fixing his wheelchair.” Chapter 3 I had barely clocked in when the team lead, Laura, threw a heavy stack of files onto my desk. "Clara, put my name on this report and keep your mouth shut." Pulling up the file on my computer, I murmured, "I pulled three all-nighters to analyze these numbers." Laura leaned over my desk with her arms crossed. "Interns need to learn how things work around here. There’s only one permanent spot available, and you're not getting it." A coworker nearby snickered. "She just married a broken, bankrupt guy. Does she really think she’s turning her life around here?" I plugged a flash drive into the desktop tower. "I kept three separate backups of the raw data logs. Put your name on it if you want, but you'll be taking full credit for the audit risks, too." Laura's face flushed dark. "Are you threatening me?" Before she could spit out another word, the elevator doors slid open. Head of HR, Mr. Shane, walked straight in, backed by two legal assistants. "Which one of you is Clara?" I stood up. "I am." Mr. Shane placed a formal document onto my desk. "Your project logs have been fully audited and verified. You've been granted the senior analyst position." Laura's face turned completely pale. "That's impossible! She doesn't have any connections!" Mr. Shane glanced at her with cold eyes. "She has an immaculate paper trail. You have five formal internal compliance complaints. “You're being terminated for taking credit for intern work. You have ten minutes to clear out your desk." The entire office went dead silent. I picked up the offer letter. "Thank you. I'll have the afternoon deliverables ready on time." Mr. Shane lingered for a second, giving me an approving look. "Someone mentioned you weren't looking for special treatment, just a fair shot." My hand froze over the paper. I quickly remembered that Harry had asked for the name of my company last night. --- After work, I took my promotion bonus directly to a high-end outlet store's clearance section. A sales associate immediately blocked my way. "Miss, this section isn't open to everyone." I pointed to a plain, dark jacket tucked in the back corner. "How much is that one?" "Final mark-down. One thousand, one hundred dollars." I tapped my card. After the transaction cleared, my remaining bank balance dropped to thirty-two dollars. When I got home, Harry ran his fingers over the jacket's material. "Is this for me?" "Yeah. No brand logos on the outside," I said. "So when people laugh at you, they won't even know which brand to insult." His fingertips paused against the fine, invisible stitching inside the collar. "Did you get something for yourself?" "Company hands out uniforms. Free clothes." Without arguing, he put the jacket on. "How do I look?" "It fits you well." "Then I'm going to keep it." --- The next morning, Wendy strutted into our corporate lobby in high heels. Victor followed right behind her, twirling his Ferrari keys around his index finger. "Sister! I came to rescue you from poverty," she called out, slamming a set of house keys onto my desk. "Victor owns a luxury mansion on the edge of town," she announced, raising her voice so the whole office could hear. "We're willing to rent you the storage unit in the back. “Just eight hundred a month. I wouldn't want people saying I abandoned my poor sister." I closed my laptop screen. "I'm not interested." She laughed even louder. "Is it too expensive? Of course. How will I be expecting a cripple who buys secondhand wheelchair tires to afford real rent." Victor took a step toward me, leaning over the partition. "Clara, Wendy is giving you a way out. I suggest you take it." Glowing comments flooded the air right above his head. “That mansion is already leveraged to the hilt! The court is putting a seizure seal on the front door in three days.” “Victor’s cash flow is completely dead! He’s just looking for a sucker to pay off his immediate debts.” I picked up the keys and slid them right back across the desk. "You two keep it. Enjoy living there until the court seals the doors." Victor’s smirk instantly vanished. "How did you know that, have you been talking to people about me?" Wendy opened her mouth to snap at me, but her eyes suddenly locked onto the back of my chair. Harry's jacket was draped over the top. Harry insisted I wear it out because of the cold in the morning. She whipped out her phone and frantically scrolled to the digital cover of Global Finance Magazine. The cover featured a famous shot of the city's most mysterious tycoon. From behind, the tycoon was wearing an identical, completely unbranded jacket. The fake smile vanished from Wendy's face. "Clara... where did you get this coat?" I pulled the jacket off the chair. "I bought it." "You bought it for Harry?" She stared at the magazine photo, her eyes wide with shock. Victor rolled his eyes impatiently. "Wendy, come on. Let's go." Wendy didn't move. She grabbed Victor’s arm tightly, her voice trembling. "Victor... haven't you heard the rumor? The head of the Peterson Empire... uses a wheelchair too.” Chapter 4 I was just shutting down my computer when Wendy blocked the main entrance. Behind her were my adoptive parents, they were flanked by a few people holding up phone cameras to record. My adoptive mother, Sarah, lunged forward and grabbed my arm. "Clara, you get out here right now and explain yourself!" I snatched my arm back. "Don't touch my workspace. If you break it, you will never be able to replace it." Wendy’s eyes were rimmed with red tears. She clutched a thick stack of papers in her hands. "Clara, I wanted to give you a way out," she sobbed. "But you lied to Mr. Harry Peterson and stole money from our family. I can't keep covering for you!" Coworkers began crowding around the lobby. "Mr. Harry Peterson? Which Mr. Harry Peterson?" Wendy pointed a trembling finger toward the street outside. A sleek black medical van had pulled up to the curb, flanked by four dark security SUVs. The surrounding crowd instantly backed away to clear a path. My adoptive father, Killian, cleared his throat, raising his voice for the crowd. "The head of the Peterson family has been laying low due to health reasons. Clara knew his real identity all along! “She pretended to be Wendy just to trick him into marriage!" I lifted my eyes, completely unbothered. "Can you prove all what you are saying?" Wendy slammed the papers against my chest. "These are the chat logs, wire transfers, hospital bills, all the evidence are right here!" The papers scattered across the polished floor. She turned toward the black van, crying out dramatically, "Mr. Peterson! Clara used my account to chat with you online! “She even stole three million dollars of emergency funds from our family, claiming she wanted to take care of you!" Sarah chimed in right on cue. "We raised her for twenty years, and she steals our money to go buy a husband! A thief like her belongs in prison!" Mutterings broke out among my coworkers: "She always seemed so quiet. I had no idea she was this ruthless." "No wonder she got promoted so fast. Did she actually climb her way into a billionaire family?" Wendy knelt on the floor, deliberately pushing one of the printed pages directly in front of a live-streaming camera. "Clara, just admit you were wrong. Give Mr. Harry Peterson back to me or else, I will ruin your life completely." I bent down and picked up the papers one by one. Wendy blinked as she was caught off guard. "What are you even doing?" I shoved the stack into my bag. "I will get paid for documents forged to defame me. I'm keeping these as evidence for the police report." Her face twisted into a snarl. "You're still acting tough?" Victor squeezed his way through the crowd. "Clara, Wendy is being nice. Don't blow your last chance." I zipped my bag shut. "Have you finished paying off your car loan yet, Victor?" Victor's face turned completely sour. Floating comments packed the air above the crowd. “Here it comes! The guy in the van is the real deal.” “Wendy thinks she’s claiming her rich prince, but this is a total self-destruction scene!” The medical van door slid open from the inside. Two bodyguards dressed in black suits stepped down first. Then, Harry was wheeled out into the bright entrance lights. A thin blanket covered his lap, and he held that dusty old red cord tightly in his hand. Wendy immediately rushed toward him. "Mr. Peterson! I am the real heiress! The person who was supposed to marry you was me!" Harry raised a single hand, and the bodyguards instantly blocked her path. His gaze moved past her tear-streaked face and landed directly on me. I stood beside the few remaining loose papers with my mouth shut. Wendy sobbed even harder. "Look at her! She's guilty! She can't even defend herself!" Harry touched the red cord, finally breaking his silence. "Miss Wendy is right. That three million dollars was transferred out by Clara." The entire lobby erupted in gasps. Wendy’s face lit up with wild delight. I whipped my head up and stared straight at him. "However..." Harry paused, his eyes locked onto mine. "Clara." I met his gaze. "All these charges they're tossing at you, do you accept them?”