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Chapter 19: Midnight at 3:00pm
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15.09.2026 02:53:00
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Married To My Cold Billionaire CEO For hundred days Chapter 19: Midnight at 3:00pm
The kettle was taking forever.Or maybe I was taking forever on purpose, because I knew the second I turned around he’d be looking at me like that again.“You keep staring and the water’s gonna get shy,” I told the cabinet.“Good. Let it. I like watching you pretend I’m not even here.”My WORLD’S OKAYEST TEACHER mug was right in front. His black one with the chip sat behind it. I’d put his jacket over my shoulders in the driveway because the AC in his car was freezing and now it just smelled like him and expensive leather.I could feel him behind me. Not touching. Just there. Leaning against the island in our kitchen.“You said something in the car,” I finally said while I poured. Too much sugar for him, too much milk for me, bag left in way too long. Same terrible tea we always made at midnight. “You said sabr is getting really hard.”A beat of silence. Then his voice, closer than before.“Sabr means patience.”“I know what it means, Oliver.”“I know you do. That’s why I said it in H
Married To My Cold Billionaire CEO For hundred days Chapter 18: Our Kitchen
He drove with one hand the whole way. The other stayed locked over mine on the gear shift. Every time he needed to turn, his fingers would squeeze once, lift away, spin the wheel, then find their way right back like they already knew the path by heart. The blue beads of the bracelet he’d given me had gone warm between our palms. I could still feel the little dents they left in my skin.Click.He’d clicked his seatbelt twice when we got in the car. Not because it wasn’t already buckled—because his hand was shaking.“We have a garage, Mr. Okoye,” I said as the gates swung open.“If I park in the garage, the cameras catch us walking in,” he answered without looking at me. His voice stayed low. “I don’t want an audience for the next ten minutes.”“What happens in the next ten minutes?”That was when he finally looked at me. Really looked, the way he hadn’t been allowed to during three hours of smiling through a charity lunch.“You tell me why you said that thing about the time.”He didn’t
Married To My Cold Billionaire CEO For hundred days Chapter 17: The Parking Lot Rules
He wasn’t driving.Oliver sat in the driver’s seat of the Maybach, both hands locked on the wheel at ten and two like he was deliberately keeping them away from me. The AC was blasting and the car still felt too warm, the kind of sticky heat that clung to the back of your neck even when the vents were screaming cold air. Leather seats, soft and expensive, suddenly felt too close. Everything about the car felt too close.My hand was still buzzing where he’d held it earlier. The blue bead bracelet had left a faint dent in my skin, a little curved mark that throbbed like a second pulse. I kept rubbing my thumb over it without thinking.“You should start the car,” I said.“You should stop looking at me like that,” he said, still not looking.“Like what?”“Like you won.”“I did win. She left the table first.”He finally turned. His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second, then snapped back up like he’d been caught. “Nadia. Rule number four.”“Rule four is no fighting in private. We’re n
Married To My Cold Billionaire CEO For hundred days Chapter 16: The Sunday Table
Rule #9 was working a little too well.Oliver’s hand stayed on the small of my back as we walked into his mother’s house. Light enough to look like it was just for show. Except his thumb kept making slow circles through my dress, and that definitely wasn’t in the contract.Serena was already sitting there. In my chair.White silk dress. Legs crossed. The exact lipstick shade Mrs. Chen always loved.“Oliver, you’re late,” Mrs. Chen said. “Serena was just telling me about the foundation gala. She remembered you take your coffee black, no sugar. Some people actually pay attention to the details.”I felt Oliver go rigid beside me.“Serena,” I said, smiling, “you’re in my seat.”She didn’t budge. Just looked me up and down—my plain blue dress, flat shoes, the red-thread bracelet Amara made me.“Oh, is there assigned seating now? I thought we were past primary school,” she laughed, glancing at Mrs. Chen for backup. “Oliver never liked clingy, Nadia. Didn’t he put that in your… contract?”Th
Married To My Cold Billionaire CEO For hundred days Chapter 15: The Bad Tea
The tea was still awful.Mine was basically warm water that had only vaguely heard of a tea bag. His was the complete opposite—bitter and way too strong, the way he always made it when he was on edge.We were sitting on the kitchen floor with our backs against the cabinets, knees almost touching. The tiles were freezing. He didn’t complain about it anymore.“For a billionaire CEO, you’re really bad at making tea,” I said.“For a literacy coordinator, you’re really bad at pretending you don’t like my terrible tea,” he shot back.I took another sip just to prove him wrong. It was still terrible. I liked it anyway.He kept glancing at my bracelet—the little one Amara made me. Red thread, one blue bead.“Amara asked me today if you were my real husband,” I said.He nearly choked on his tea. “What did you tell her?”“I said Rule #9.”Rule #9: In public, we’re madly in love. In private, we’re just contractual obligations.“And what does Rule #9 say exactly?” he asked.“That my husband is ve
Married To My Cold Billionaire CEO For hundred days Chapter 14:The Blue Suitcase
I couldn’t sleep.Every time I shut my eyes I saw his hand under the running water, and heard the way he said “sixty-six days” like the number itself hurt.At 12:47 I got up for water. The light in his office was still on.Oliver had fallen asleep at his desk. Reading glasses—ones I’d never seen before—were sliding down his nose. The contract lay open in front of him. My name appeared throughout the draft: Mrs. Nadia Okoye will continue to support the Westside Literacy Project.“Oliver,” I whispered.He jolted awake. “You came back—I mean, you’re up.”“You were waiting?”He yanked the glasses off, looking embarrassed. “You were quiet after the kitchen.”I had stayed quiet because I was trying not to fall for my contract husband at 6:47 p.m. over a kettle.He noticed me looking at the papers.“It’s stupid,” he said, and closed the folder. “We wrote it like you were a tenant. Party B will vacate with her personal belongings. You’re not—that isn’t you.”“Which rule did you break?”He bli
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