Falling for My Contractual Wife

Brian felt a pressing need to learn more about the baby.

As for Louise, he hadn't figured out his plan yet. If Louise accepted the child, great, they'd be a family. But if not, he wasn't about to abandon his own flesh and blood for her.

The path ahead looked treacherous. It had poured two days ago, leaving it slick with mud. One wrong step and someone

could take a tumble.

Grace, though, seemed at home here. She'd grown up in these parts and wisely wore shoes with good grip. She navigated the muck with ease.

Brian, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. He'd come here for a site inspection, dressed in a suit and shiny black shoes, not the best for navigating mud. Seeing Grace zoom ahead, he struggled to keep up, nearly taking a spill into a nearby pond a few times. "Did you live in a cave back then? Why's it so far out?" he grumbled.

Grace glanced back, catching Brian slipping and sliding like a clown.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Suppressing a laugh, she quickened her pace. After about ten minutes, they reached their destination.

The old house stood with its mud walls, a bold "dangerous" sign plastered on the wall.

The central room's door was locked tight, the key long gone. Grace eyed the rusty lock. It'd take some effort to open.

Spying a rusty scythe in the adjacent kitchen, Grace had an idea. With it being a wooden door, cutting the lock wouldn't be too hard.

By the time Brian caught up, Grace was wielding the scythe, eyeing the "Dangerous House" sign.

Brian hurried over, snatching the tool from her grip.

"What're you doing? Hand it over!" Grace demanded.

"Don't you see how risky this is? This place could collapse any second," Brian reasoned.

"This is

my

childhood home. I need something from inside," Grace insisted.

Brian surveyed the mud hut, the sort of thing one would only see in movies.

"Just give me the tool," Grace pressed.

Brian didn't budge, then met her gaze. "Is it really necessary?"

Grace nodded firmly.

"Step back, I'll handle it," Brian offered.

Seeing his fine suit and mud-caked shoes, Grace shook her head "You're not suited for this. Do you even know how to use -that thing?" Without a word, Brian pushed her aside. "Just watch."

With a swift swing, the scythe struck the lock with a resounding clang. Grace winced. Approaching cautiously, she saw the lock had a sizable dent.

m

"Maybe I missed. Stand back, I'll try again," Brian admitted.

Snatching the scythe, Grace headed into the courtyard, her purpose clear.

She remembered a whetstone lying around somewhere. Digging through the overgrowth, she uncovered it, caked in dirt.

As she sharpened her knife, Brian watched, realizing he was out of his depth in this environment.