Hillbilly Girlie Marries a Billionaire – Episode 06
The marriage certificate felt heavier than paper should. Emily sat beside Lucas in the back of the car, staring at their names joined beneath an official seal. That morning she had been willing to become a surrogate. By afternoon, she had acquired a husband whose private driver addressed her as Mrs. Anderson.
Lucas seemed entirely untroubled by the speed of events. He reviewed messages while Adam explained that Grandfather Anderson expected them at the family banquet that evening. Emily turned sharply toward Lucas. No one had mentioned she would be presented to his family within hours of marrying him.
He reminded her that public appearances were part of the agreement, though his tone softened when he saw genuine panic replace her surprise. She did not need to impress anyone, he said. She only needed to stand beside him and confirm that the marriage was real. Emily suspected his relatives would demand more convincing than that.
The car stopped at Maple Malls, a glittering complex of jewelry stores and designer boutiques. Lucas handed her a black card and told her to choose whatever she needed for the banquet. Emily stared at it as though it might explode. She owned three dresses, and until that moment she had considered all of them perfectly respectable.
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” she asked. Lucas’s gaze moved over the faded fabric, then returned to her face without mockery. Nothing, he said, but the people at the banquet judged armor before character. If they intended to attack his wife, he preferred that she enter prepared.
The word wife still made Emily’s pulse stumble. Lucas left Adam nearby and went to handle a call, promising to return soon. Alone among mirrored displays and silent salespeople, Emily became painfully aware of how little she understood his world. Price tags held more zeros than the hospital invoices that had terrified her.
She selected a simple blue dress from a sale rack. Before she could ask for a fitting room, Sophie’s voice drifted from behind her. “So this is how quickly poverty develops expensive taste.” Emily turned to find the rejected contract bride flanked by two friends, each wearing the same polished contempt.
Sophie snatched the dress from Emily’s hands and examined the size label. She announced loudly that Lucas’s new wife was shopping with his money less than an hour after the wedding. Several customers glanced over. Emily told her to return the dress, refusing to provide the embarrassed retreat Sophie expected.
“You stole my place,” Sophie said. Emily corrected her: Sophie had arrived late, and Lucas had made his own decision. The truth only enraged her more. Sophie insisted Lucas needed a woman with breeding, education, and a family name—not a country girl whose wardrobe belonged in a donation bin.
Emily thought of muddy fields at sunrise, her mother’s hands roughened by work, and neighbors who shared food whenever someone fell ill. If that was the background Sophie despised, Emily would not apologize for it. She said a person’s value was not stitched into a label, and money could not purchase manners.
The watching salespeople hid smiles. Sophie’s face flushed. She accused Emily of trapping Lucas with a pregnancy scheme, then glanced pointedly at her body. Emily, still tangled in the morning’s misunderstanding, replied that she had originally come about surrogacy and had never pretended otherwise.
Sophie seized on the admission. She declared that Lucas had married a woman willing to sell herself for a baby. Whispers spread across the boutique. Emily realized too late how easily her desperate choice could be twisted, but she refused to let Sophie make love for her mother sound dirty.
“I was willing to sacrifice for my family,” Emily said. “What were you willing to do besides arrive late and insult employees?” One of Sophie’s friends gasped. Sophie stepped closer until the sharp scent of her perfume filled Emily’s breath.
She threatened to have Emily thrown out of Maple Malls. Emily looked toward the security desk, wondering whether Sophie truly possessed that influence. Lucas had never explained what sort of business he ran. She knew only that employees straightened when he passed and that money moved whenever he spoke.
Sophie lifted the blue dress and let it fall beneath her heel. The delicate fabric caught against her shoe. Emily bent to rescue it, but Sophie kicked the garment aside and announced that trash suited trash. Anger rose through Emily, hot enough to burn away caution.
She told Sophie that arriving first would not have guaranteed Lucas’s choice. Marriage—even a contracted one—was not a prize reserved by appointment. Lucas had seen how Sophie treated people, and perhaps that ugliness, not Emily, had cost her the position.
The words landed precisely where Sophie’s pride was weakest. Her hand flashed upward before Emily could step back. Emily saw the diamond bracelet, the rigid fingers, and the fury in Sophie’s eyes. The boutique seemed to hold its breath.
A strong hand closed around Sophie’s wrist inches from Emily’s face. Lucas stood between them, his expression stripped of every trace of civility. He had returned in time to hear the insults and see the attempted blow. The quiet in his voice was more frightening than a shout.
He asked Sophie what gave her the right to touch his wife. She began explaining that Emily had stolen her place, humiliated her, and damaged an expensive dress. Lucas released her wrist only to step closer, placing his body squarely between the two women.
“Care to explain what you think you’re doing?” he asked. Sophie looked around for support and found none. Then Lucas’s gaze fell on the dress crushed beneath her heel, and everyone in the boutique understood that Sophie’s confrontation had just become far more costly than she imagined.