Love Contract: Secrets and Promises

Name: Love Contract: Secrets and Promises
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Salej

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Clara Martins swore to never depend on anyone again. After her grandmother's death, she dedicated herself body and soul to the small bakery she inherited in downtown São Paulo, the only legacy of a family tormented by debt. But when an unexpected betrayal threatens to close its doors forever, Clara receives an indecent proposal from the person she least expected: Enzo Albuquerque, the cold, millionaire businessman she hated loving in her youth. To save his empire from a conspiracy within his own family, Enzo needs the perfect wife, and Clara, with her sweet smile and impeccable reputation, is the only one who can convince them he's a family man. A one-year contract, no feelings, no scandals... and no secrets. But between forced dinners, stolen kisses, and sleepless nights under the same roof, old wounds begin to bleed, and a passion that should have died rekindles stronger than ever. The problem? Clara hides more than just pain: she carries with her a new life that could change the course. And Enzo harbors a secret that could destroy them before this forbidden love has a second chance. When revenge, pride, and desire intertwine, even the most ironclad contract can be broken. Can a wounded heart forgive? And can a man who never knew how to love let go of control so he doesn't lose it all again? A contract marriage. An unexpected baby. A second chance no one thought possible. "Love Contract: Secrets and Promises" will captivate you until the last page.

Pregnancy Contract marriage Arrogant/Dominant Arranged marriage Second chance CEO Pregnancy

Chapter 5 A sham marriage

The day before yesterday 00:33

Chapter 1 Gingerbread

Clara clutched the manila envelope between her fingers, as if she could change what was about to happen. The sweet scent of gingerbread and freshly brewed coffee permeated the small room, mingling with the faint aroma of vanilla frosting still in her hands. Behind the worn wooden counter, everything seemed so familiar that it was hard to believe that, in thirty days, nothing would be gone.

She took a deep breath, feeling a burning sensation in her chest. The grandfather clock, inherited from her grandmother, ticked with cruel precision. She knew what was in that envelope. She knew it from the moment the delivery man arrived, not daring to meet her eyes.

"Come on, Clara..." she muttered to herself as she tore the seal.

The paper slid out, heavy as lead. The words popped out like a punch: eviction notice. Deadline: thirty days to pay the debt or hand in the keys. Back rent, accrued taxes, court fees.

The floor seemed to open beneath her feet. She had to grab onto the counter to keep from falling. Everything she had fought to keep alive for the past three years was about to fade away, as if it had never existed.

She closed her eyes. And, like a whisper from the past, she saw Dona Amélia again. Her grandmother was there, in her memory, wearing a floral apron, her hands steady, kneading on the marble countertop. Her face was weathered, but her smile was always youthful.

"Clarinha, come here. Dough requires patience, love, and a pinch of faith. The recipe never fails if your heart is in the right place."

Clara was just a girl with braids, kneeling on a stool to reach the counter. Always fascinated by watching flour transform into dreams, sugar into comfort.

"I promised you, Grandma..." she whispered, opening her eyes again to the empty bakery. "I promised I'd take care of this. And I will."

The sound of the door opening brought her out of her trance. A customer? At that time of the afternoon, hardly anyone showed up. The doorbell rang faintly, but it was enough to remind her to react.

"Good afternoon!" Clara lifted her chin, holding back tears. A practiced smile, even though no one on the other end could see the crack opening inside her.

It was Doña Zuleide, the neighbor from the street behind her. She had come to pick up her granddaughter's birthday cake order.

"Hello, dear!" the woman said, leaning her cane on the counter. "Still here alone, huh? Your grandmother would be proud."

Those words resonated with her. Clara bit her lip, forcing a smile. She took the white box decorated with a pink bow and placed it delicately on the counter.

"Here it is, Doña Zuleide. One kilo of pure chocolate filled with brigadeiro, just as you asked."

"And grandma's little secret, huh?" the old woman laughed, squeezing Clara's hand. Only you could prevent this from dying.

Clara clasped her wrinkled hand in hers, feeling the warmth she had missed so much these past few days.

"I won't allow it, Mrs. Zuleide. You can rest assured."

She received the payment in cash, counting every bill, every coin. Still, it was nothing more than a drop in a leaky ocean. After her neighbor left, Clara rested her forehead on the marble counter, as cold as the reality crushing her.

The landline rang, a high-pitched ring that echoed in the small room. She took a deep breath before answering.

"Confeitaria Martins, good afternoon!"

On the other end, silence. Then, a male voice, dry, direct.

"Mrs. Clara Martins?"

"Yes."

"This is Albuquerque & Andrade Advogados. We're calling to confirm receipt of the eviction notice." The voice was impersonal, indifferent to the pain those words caused. "We need to schedule the handover of keys if the debt isn't paid within the legal deadline." Clara felt anger welling up inside her, burning her skin. It wasn't just a notice. It was a judgment. And who was behind that office? Everyone knew: the company that owned the building, the same one that had been buying up properties across the street to demolish everything and build another luxury building.

"I'll pay every last cent," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "They're not going to get it from me that easily."

"Ma'am, it's your right to try. But we advise you to reach an agreement." And the line cut off instantly.

Clara stood there, the phone pressed to her ear, feeling the weight of the world crush her thin shoulders. On the other side of the fogged-up glass, the old sign swayed in the wind: Confeitaria Martins - Since 1978. A piece of family history, a piece of herself. Even if I have to wait in line on the street to sell every brigadeiro, every slice of cake, I will repay this debt.

Even if I have to swallow my pride and ask for help...

She closed her eyes. The image of Enzo Albuquerque flashed through her mind like a knife: impeccable suit, icy smile, eyes that always knew where to strike. The heir to all this. The man who was once almost hers, and who could now sign her bankruptcy decree with a stroke of the pen.

"No," she murmured to the empty room, as if her grandmother could hear her. "I will not kneel to him. Not ever again."

She took the broom and swept the invisible crumbs off the floor. She tidied the candy jars and looked at the cash register. A small gesture, but enough to remind herself that she still owned this place. As long as the doors were open, there was still hope.

And, no matter how much the world tried to tell her otherwise, Clara Martins was no longer that scared girl hiding behind the counter. She was now a woman, and a woman willing to fight to the last detail.