Romance Novel

“Let me be your real wife for one month… in bed.” The moment Vanessa, my husband Daven's first love, returned, he asked for a divorce. I made my last request. For thirty nights, he held me like I mattered. On the thirty-first day, I left before sunrise. That afternoon, the news broke: [Billionaire Daven offers his entire fortune for any information about his missing wife.] - “Just one month ... Let me be your wife.”Althea said calmly Daven narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” “I’ll leave, just like you want. After you say your wedding vows to the woman you love.” The words stung as they left Althea’s lips, each syllable carving pain deep into her chest. “You can divorce me, and I promise—I’ll disappear from your life for good. But before that, allow me to know what it feels like to be a wife.” Silence fell. Then a dismissive laugh escaped Daven’s lips. Daven Callister, her husband, had never loved her. Althea hadn’t wanted this marriage either. All she had wanted was a proper funeral for her mother. Everything that followed, she had accepted as fate. It was Daven’s grandmother who demanded the marriage as a form of atonement for Daven’s role in her mother’s death. But now, with his grandmother taken by illness two weeks ago, Daven finally saw a chance to escape the marriage he had never wanted. Daven wiped the corner of his eye, amused at how absurd her request sounded. What on earth was she thinking? One month? The idea was laughable. Daven took a step toward her, closing the distance. His eyes scanned her face, as if trying to decipher a hidden agenda. Maybe his mother had been all along—maybe Althea was just after the wealth tied to his name. Who didn’t know Daven Callister? CEO of Callister Enterprise, one of the most influential young businessmen in Migathan City. People competed just to get close to him, especially women who thirsted for his attention. But Daven only loved one woman—and it wasn’t his wife. It was someone else entirely—Vanessa Blake, a rising supermodel whose name was lighting up the fashion world. “What makes you think I’d even consider that?” he asked, his voice cold, laced with disbelief. She gave a small nod. “I’m not asking for your love.” she said with a bitter laugh. “All I’m asking is to be treated properly—as your wife. Have dinner with me. Exchange a few words with me every day. Show me a little affection, even if it’s fake.” Her hands clenched into fists to keep herself steady. “After that, I’ll walk away quietly. You’ll be free to marry anyone you want.” Daven squinted, unsure whether to laugh harder or feel irritated. Yet beneath his disbelief, something in her words struck a nerve. A simple request—so painfully simple, it piqued his curiosity. What is Althea's real purpose? This time, Daven’s gaze wasn’t as sharp. He looked at the woman before him with an unreadable expression. Was it confusion? Annoyance? Or... curiosity? “I’m not promising to be nice,” he finally said. “I never expected you to change,” Althea answered, her calmness more shattering than tears ever could be. And with that, an unspoken agreement was formed. One month. Thirty days for Althea to live as the wife of Daven Callister. A reality that should have existed a year ago—ever since their wedding day. “Only one month, Althea,” Daven warned. “After that, you disappear from my sight.” “I understand exactly what I’m asking for, Daven. You don’t have to worry.” -- “Are you out of your mind?” Catherine Callister—more commonly known as Kate—snapped, her shrill voice shattering the silence of the back garden. The lightweight plastic watering can Althea had been using to water the white roses fell from her hand and shattered upon hitting the sharp-edged stone tiles. “How dare you make such a shameless request?” Kate continued, her voice seething with rage. Her eyes blazed. “You’re well aware my son is about to marry Vanessa, aren’t you? Yet you still have the audacity to beg for Daven’s attention?” Althea gave a faint smile. It was the kind of smile that whispered warmth in the middle of a storm. “I’m not asking for Daven’s love, Mrs. Callister,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with a steely kind of courtesy. “All I asked for was time. Thirty days of his time.” “And what do you think you can accomplish in thirty days, huh?” Kate stepped forward, the heel of her designer shoe crunching over the broken watering can with a sharp, splintering sound. “Daven loves Vanessa. You’re just a pathetic orphan, nothing more than an obstacle standing in their way.” Althea exhaled slowly, then she looked straight into her mother-in-law’s eyes. Her gaze was still calm—but this time, it carried an unmistakable strength. “I never wanted to get in anyone’s way,” she said quietly. “But I’m not something to be discarded either. Yes, I’m nothing more than a girl with nothing—no wealth, no power, no name. But I still have my dignity, Mrs. Callister. And all I want is to hold on to that.” Kate opened her mouth to retort again, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her. Daven appeared from behind the glass doors of the house, his suit still perfectly in place. The weariness from a long day’s work was evident on his face. He glanced briefly between the two women before speaking in a flat tone, “Is there a problem?” Kate turned to him, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Of course, there’s a problem. Your precious wife made an absurd request, and you—” she pointed a manicured finger at him, “—you agreed to it?” Daven didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on Althea. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she wouldn’t deny it. She wasn’t like the rest of the people in this house, hiding their motives behind masks. “She only asked for my time, Mother. Just one month,” Daven said at last. “And I agreed. Vanessa is willing to give me that time.” Kate hissed under her breath, then turned away sharply. “I will never see you as part of this family,” she spat before disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps sharp and swift—like every word she had just hurled. Althea let out a long breath once the woman’s figure vanished from sight. Her hands trembled slightly, but she hid them beneath the folds of her dress. Only one figure remained, still standing there, watching her with that same cold stare—like she was nothing more than a discarded object. “I didn’t realize my wife was so stubborn,” Daven mocked. “Do you want to be my wife that badly?” He let out a scoffing chuckle, laced with disdain. “Do you regret agreeing to my request?” Althea asked softly, her gaze gentle but clouded with pain and disappointment. Daven held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But I still think it’s ridiculous.” “That’s fine,” Althea said, forcing a smile that barely reached her eyes. “What matters is... I won’t regret it.” For a moment, the only sound between them was the breeze. Daven turned his face away, though his eyes lingered on her cheeks, flushed under the afternoon sun—or perhaps from holding back tears she refused to shed. Without another word, he turned and began to walk away. But just before he vanished through the doorway, his voice called out behind him. “If you’re this insistent... does that mean you’re ready to share my bed tonight, Althea? Isn’t that what you wanted— to become my wife in every sense of the word?” Althea blinked, stunned. She was the one who had made that request, after all—asking to truly be his wife. Which meant... he had the right to touch her. For the next thirty days. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Yes,” she answered, her voice firm. She couldn’t back down now, could she? Even if the thought alone made her body tremble with fear. Daven inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. “Too bad,” he said at last, voice flat. “I’m not interested.” She took a step back, instinctively. His voice was low, dangerously calm. He reached out, fingers brushing her chin—not tenderly, but not cruelly either. Just enough to force her gaze upward. “Tomorrow night,” he said, gaze locked on hers, “I’ll come home not as the man you married on paper—but as the husband you insisted, I become.” Althea’s breath hitched. Her hands curled into fists beside her dress, but she didn’t look away. “I hope you’re ready,” Daven added, pulling back just slightly. “Because I won’t stop to ask if you’ve changed your mind.” *** The sky was already dark when Daven Callister unlocked the door, the familiar click echoing through the silence of the grand house—quiet, yet resounding. His black shoes clicked against the marble floor of the foyer, and the dark grey suit he wore looked slightly rumpled. He sighed, loosening his tie with a lazy tug before stepping further inside. The lights in the main room were still on, casting a warm glow that stood in stark contrast to the cold air outside. “Welcome home, Daven.” His steps halted. Althea stood at the entrance to the dining room, dressed in a simple beige house dress. Her hair was pinned up neatly, with a few soft strands framing her face. She smiled—wide and sincere—her warm brown eyes looking at her husband as if nothing was wrong. For a moment, Daven just looked back at her. Normally, he would have ignored that greeting. But tonight, he couldn’t brush Althea off so easily. “I made dinner,” she said. “I heard the weather’s been chilly today, so I thought you’d like some beef soup and warm bread.” Her words made Daven glance at the dining table. Dinner was set with care: a bowl of steaming soup, homemade bread, and a small plate of salad arranged delicately. A single lit candle stood at the center, casting a soft glow and shadows on the wall. Daven exhaled quietly. “I already ate.” Althea nodded. “That’s okay. But it’d be a shame to let it go cold and to waste. You could try a little.” Her tone was light, not insistent. But for some reason, Daven pulled out a chair and sat down without complaint. Althea took the seat across from him, her hands busy pouring water into a glass. “Go ahead,” she said gently. She didn’t touch her own food, just watched him with a calm gaze. “How was your day?” she asked softly. “Did the morning meeting go well?” Daven picked up the spoon, slowly tasted the soup, and swallowed without replying. Althea offered a faint smile. She understood. Daven wasn’t the kind of man who opened up easily, especially not to someone he considered a wife only because of circumstance. “I heard about the Korean textile merger that’s planning to expand into Mighatan. Aren’t they considered a competitor to Callister Enterprise?” Daven’s head lifted slightly. “Not a direct competitor,” he muttered. “But they do have ties to the raw material markets we’ve been targeting.” Althea nodded thoughtfully. “I thought you’d approach it with an alliance strategy, not competition.” Daven paused mid-bite. There was a moment of silence before he set the spoon down slowly. “You understand quite a bit.” “Some news portals have been covering it. I’ve just been following along a little.” Daven raised an eyebrow slightly. He didn’t say anything, but for the first time in a long while, he looked at Althea—not with disdain or irritation, but with a flicker of interest. Althea smiled, “I want to understand some of the things that make up your world. At the very least… if I’m going to leave one day, I want to go knowing who you really are.” The word “leave” hung in the air like a heavy night fog. Daven said nothing. Instead, he picked up his spoon again and finished the soup in his bowl. A long silence settled between them—comforting in a way neither of them could quite define. Until finally, Daven spoke—his tone as flat as usual, though this time, not as cold. “In two days, there’s a dinner at the Mighatan Embassy. The Japanese Ambassador will be attending.” Althea turned to him slowly. “Sounds like an important meeting.” “The Japanese Ambassador has taken a particular interest in Callister Enterprise. He extended a personal invitation.” “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Althea’s voice carried a hint of enthusiasm. “They invited me... with a partner.” She was still smiling. “You can do that, Daven.” “My wife.” Althea went quiet. “I’ve been asked to attend with my wife, Althea.” Those words rendered her speechless. A sharp, unexplainable ache bloomed in her chest. It had already seemed certain that Daven would go with Vanessa. And why was he telling her this? Just to remind her of her place? Even without being told, Althea was painfully aware of who she was in this house. “Get ready to attend the event, Althea.” Daven rose from his seat, resting a hand on the table before walking toward the stairs. But just before he disappeared from sight, he spoke again—without turning back: “The soup was good.” She hadn’t processed what he’d said yet. Not fully. But... “He asked me to go as his wife?” Althea muttered, pressing her palms to her warming cheeks. Her lips curved slightly. So it really was going smoother than she’d expected. *** She stared at her reflection in the tall mirror. The gown she wore was a gift from Evelyn Callyster—a kind, warm-hearted woman who had been so close to her. Her passing had left a deep emptiness in Althea’s heart. Just like the time she lost her own mother, who took her final breath after suffering a fatal head injury in that accident, Althea hadn’t been able to stop crying. Evelyn had quietly purchased several elegant dresses for her, saying that maybe one day, Althea would attend a formal event alongside Daven. Sadly, that day had never come. Until tonight. The gown was a pale gold, shimmering subtly under the light, flowing over her body with a graceful, understated cut. The neckline was bare, adorned only by a delicate pearl necklace—her mother’s last keepsake. Althea’s hair was styled into a low chignon, neat yet soft, framing her face. Her makeup was light, just enough to highlight the calm in her eyes and the gentle curve of her smile. She didn’t look like a woman from a modest background. Tonight, Althea Grayson looked every bit like a noblewoman stepped out of a classic tale. “Please… let this evening pass without incident,” she whispered to herself, trying to summon courage. When she opened her bedroom door and stepped into the main hall, Daven was already there, standing while checking his phone, as though his world was far too full to notice anything else. The soft tap of heels broke the silence. He froze. His eyes lifted, and his expression shifted ever so slightly. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze lingered on her. His hand lowered, the phone forgotten, and a faint crease formed between his brows. For the first time, he seemed unsure of what to say. Althea approached, a small smile still gracing her lips. “Have you… been waiting long?” “No,” Daven replied curtly. “Is… is this dress too much?” she asked, a bit nervous under the weight of his stare—he had never looked at her quite like this before. “If it is, I can change into something else.” “There’s no need,” he answered quietly. “Let’s go. The car’s waiting.” On the way, Daven remained mostly silent. But unlike usual, he didn’t distance himself. He sat calmly beside her, and for the first time, didn’t recoil when Althea instinctively reached out to adjust his tie. Her hand paused as her fingers brushed against his collar. Their eyes met—just for a moment—but it was enough to make Daven inhale sharply and turn his face toward the window. “Ah, I’m sorry,” Althea said quickly, pulling her hand away to give him space. Daven still said nothing. “I won’t stand too close to you tonight,” she said eventually, her voice steady but careful. “Since you’ll soon be marrying Vanessa, I think it’s only right for me to know my place.” Daven turned slowly, his gaze sharp. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I’ll just stay slightly behind you,” she explained softly, with a faint smile, trying to sound reasonable. “Enough for you to know I’m there… but not in the way. I don’t want to cause any misunderstandings.” Daven closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again, his voice low and cold. “If you dare step away from me or pretend, you’re not my wife in front of them,” he said in a quiet, threatening tone, “you’ll regret it.” Althea froze. She stared at him, uncertain of what she had just heard. “Daven, I only—” “There’s no ‘only,’” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Tonight, you’ll stand beside me. As my wife. As you should.” A heavy silence fell between them. Althea lowered her gaze, letting a few strands of hair fall to shield her face—and a faint, unreadable smile curved her lips.