The Contract Wife
The wedding was over.
The music had finally stopped.
The endless congratulations, photographs, blessings, and curious eyes had disappeared behind the grand doors of the De Luca mansion.
Purvi sat quietly on the edge of the enormous bed, still wearing her wedding dress.
The room was almost absurdly large.
Everything about Vincenzo De Luca seemed to be large.
His house.
His reputation.
His presence.
And apparently, even his bedroom.
Purvi looked down at herself, smoothing the delicate fabric of her wedding gown.
Her jewelry still glittered against her skin, and the wedding chain around her neck felt strangely heavy.
She was married.
Technically.
To a man she barely knew.
A man who had looked at her throughout the entire wedding ceremony as though marrying her was an unpleasant business transaction he had been forced to complete.
The door suddenly opened.
Purvi lifted her head.
Vincenzo walked inside.
He had changed out of his wedding attire and was now dressed in black trousers and a dark shirt, the top buttons undone.
At six feet seven inches, he seemed to make the enormous room feel smaller simply by entering it.
His expression was cold.
Unreadable.
He glanced at Purvi once before walking toward the wardrobe.
“Go to sleep.”
Purvi blinked.
That was it?
No congratulations?
No awkward newlywed conversation?
Nothing?
She smiled faintly.
“Okay.”
Vincenzo stopped.
He turned his head slightly.
“There’s something you need to understand.”
Purvi looked at him.
His voice was low and detached.
“This marriage is a contract.
Nothing more.”
She said nothing.
“I don’t expect you to interfere in my life,” he continued.
“And I won’t interfere in yours.
We maintain appearances when necessary, but that’s where it ends.”
Purvi slowly nodded.
“I understand.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, almost as though he had expected an argument.
“You don’t need to play the devoted wife.”
Purvi smiled again.
“I won’t.”
“And don’t overstep my boundaries.”
“I won’t do that either.”
“Good.”
He turned away.
Purvi watched him for a moment.
Then she quietly said, “Don’t worry, Vincenzo.
I won’t disturb you.”
He paused.
For some reason, that sentence irritated him more than it should have.
He didn’t understand why.
He had specifically told her not to disturb him.
So why did hearing her agree so easily make him feel strangely dissatisfied?
He ignored the thought.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
Vincenzo walked toward the other side of the room.
Purvi quietly began removing her jewelry.
Neither of them noticed the strange beginning they had just made to their marriage.
Neither of them knew that the woman sitting peacefully on that bed would eventually become the one person capable of disturbing every boundary Vincenzo had built around himself.
The following morning, the De Luca mansion came alive before sunrise.
The kitchen was already buzzing.
Cooks moved around the enormous marble island, preparing breakfast for the family.
Helpers carried trays in and out while the head chef checked several dishes at once.
Then Purvi walked in.
The room went quiet for half a second.
She wasn’t wearing the elaborate wedding dress anymore.
Instead, she wore a beautiful black sari decorated with thin golden stripes.
Her hair was neatly arranged, and the wedding chain rested delicately against her neck.
But what caught everyone’s attention wasn’t the sari.
It was her smile.
“Good morning.”
A few of the workers immediately greeted her.
“Good morning, Mrs.
De Luca.”
Purvi smiled brighter.
“Please, call me Purvi.”
The head cook hesitated.
“Mrs.
De Luca, you don’t need to be here.
We can prepare everything.”
“I know.”
Purvi walked toward the counter.
“But I’m hungry.”
One of the younger cooks laughed.
Purvi picked up a knife.
“What are we making?”
The cook stared at her.
“Breakfast.”
Purvi looked at him.
“I figured that part out.”
A few people laughed.
Within minutes, the kitchen became lively.
Purvi moved effortlessly between the cooks, helping chop vegetables, checking spices, stirring a pan, and tasting sauces.
She had barely been there ten minutes when the head cook stared at the collection of finished dishes.
“How did you do all this so quickly?”
Purvi shrugged.
“I cook fast.”
“You cook very well.”
Purvi smiled.
“Thank you.”
Unfortunately, someone else had been watching.
Vincenzo stood at the entrance.
His expression immediately darkened.
“What are you doing?”
Every person in the kitchen froze.
Purvi turned around.
“Good morning.”
Vincenzo looked at her sari, then at the food, then back at her.
“I asked what you’re doing.”
“Helping.”
“I can see that.”
His tone was irritatingly cold.
“Why?”
Purvi frowned slightly.
“Because breakfast needs to be prepared.”
“We have cooks.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
Purvi stared at him.
“So I helped them.”
Vincenzo’s jaw tightened.
“You’re my wife, not a servant.”
The kitchen became painfully silent.
Purvi’s eyebrows rose.
“I never said I was.”
“Then stop behaving like one.”
The head cook looked terrified.
Purvi, however, simply smiled.
“I’m not working because I have to.”
She placed the knife down.
“I wanted to.”
Vincenzo stared at her.
She wasn’t offended.
She wasn’t angry.
She wasn’t even intimidated.
That somehow annoyed him more.
Before he could respond, an older woman entered the kitchen.
His aunt.
Her gaze immediately fell on Purvi.
Unlike Vincenzo, she didn’t look displeased.
She looked curious.
“So this is the famous bride.”
Purvi turned.
“Good morning.”
The older woman smiled politely.
“Good morning, darling.”
Vincenzo immediately frowned.
“Aunt.”
She ignored him.
“You cooked all this?”
Purvi nodded.
“With the cooks.”
His aunt looked at the breakfast spread.
“Impressive.”
Vincenzo scoffed.
“Don’t encourage her.”
His aunt finally looked at him.
“Why?
She seems to be the only person in this house who knows how to smile.”
A few workers lowered their heads, trying not to laugh.
Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“Aunt.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He turned away.
Another family member entered the kitchen, his younger cousin, who immediately looked Purvi up and down with open curiosity.
“So this is her.”
Purvi smiled.
“Hello.”
The cousin gave her a half-smile.
“You don’t look like what I expected.”
Purvi tilted her head.
“What did you expect?”
“Someone terrified of Vincenzo.”
The kitchen went silent again.
Purvi looked toward Vincenzo.
He was already glaring at his cousin.
Then she smiled.
“Give me time.”
The cousin burst out laughing.
Even the head cook had to hide a smile.
Vincenzo’s expression became murderous.
“Enough.”
Purvi quietly returned to arranging the plates.
His aunt watched her carefully.
There was something different about this woman.
She wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
She wasn’t desperately seeking Vincenzo’s approval.
And despite being surrounded by one of Italy’s most intimidating families, she seemed completely determined to remain herself.
Vincenzo pulled out a chair at the table.
“Sit.”
Purvi looked at him.
“You said this marriage was a contract.”
“It is.”
“Then why are you ordering me around?”
His aunt covered her mouth to hide a smile.
Vincenzo stared at Purvi.
For the first time that morning, he seemed genuinely speechless.
Purvi smiled innocently.
“I’ll sit when I finish helping.”
Then she walked away.
Vincenzo watched her go.
His jaw tightened.
She was going to be a problem.
A very irritating problem.
And he already regretted signing that contract.
At least, that was what he told himself.
Because for some strange reason, the mansion felt different that morning.
Lighter.
Warmer.
Almost alive.
And Vincenzo absolutely hated that he had noticed.