My Contracted Husband Is My Boss (Eng Ver.)

Liliana clutched the stranger’s hand while silent tears rolled down her cheeks. They were in the elevator, riding toward the hotel’s rooftop because—of all places—that was the only refuge the young man could think of.The doors opened. Liliana was still sobbing when they reached the windy deck, but she let him guide her across the gravel until they stood at the rail, the glittering city spread beneath them like a wounded galaxy.“Liliana.”She lifted her swollen eyes to the hotel attendant standing beside her. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket, removed her reading glasses with gentle fingers, and dabbed the tears from her face.“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”“I love him,” Liliana whispered, voice breaking. “I really love him. He’s my life. I gave him everything he needed—everything except my virginity, because I wanted to save that for our wedding night.”For three years Gerald had shown her what she thought was love, and she still could not grasp h

Liliana’s Point of ViewI woke slowly, blinking up at a white ceiling while the antiseptic scent of the company clinic pricked my nose. My right arm felt like stone. I turned my head and saw Jack asleep beside the bed, using my numb hand as a pillow.“J‑Jack,” I rasped. My throat was desert‑dry.He jerked upright, eyes wide. “You’re awake.”“My arm. I can’t move it.”He stared, horrified. “I’ll call the nurse.”“It’s numb because you used it as a cushion,” I muttered.Color washed up his cheeks. “I am so sorry.”He reached for my hand. I stopped him with a wince. “Let the blood come back first.”He nodded, contrite. “Water. You need water.” He filled a paper cup and helped me drink. Cool liquid soothed the rawness in my throat, and the ache in my body had faded to a dull throb. I glanced at the IV taped to my wrist.“Why am I on a drip?”“You had a high fever,” Jack said. “Looked like you’d been… well, assaulted. You passed out around lunch.”“What time is it now?”“Seven in the eveni

Liliana’s Point of View Liliana froze in the corridor. Gerald blocked the doorway to her department, yet her pulse thundered as if she were the guilty one. No—he was the betrayer. She would not cower again. She inhaled, lifted her chin, and stepped forward. Gerald hurried to meet her, eyes wide with feigned concern. “Liliana, thank God you are here. I thought you skipped work. Your grandmother said you had errands yesterday. Can we talk?” “Not now. Be professional, Gerald. This is the office. There is nothing left to discuss. We ended the night you betrayed me.” She kept her voice low to avoid a scene, but Gerald seized her wrist, fingers biting. “Let me explain—” “Release me,” she hissed. The department‑head door swung open. Asher Windermere appeared, his gaze instantly locking on Gerald’s hand. Gerald’s grip loosened under the CEO’s frigid stare. Liliana yanked her arm free and glanced at Asher. “Thank you, Sir,” she murmured and bowed slightly. Gerald slunk away without ap

Liliana’s Point of View The next morning… I was at home—though most people wouldn’t call this place a simple home. It was a family‑owned mansion. I had left the boardinghouse for good. Gerald knew only two places I could be: that tiny room I used to rent and Grandma’s farm. He had no idea this mansion even existed. Grandpa and Grandma handled all the salaries for the maids and bodyguards, their budget set aside long ago. Grandpa was abroad on a short trip, but when they were in the Philippines they lived out on the farm where Gerald had gone looking for me. The house there was plain wood; they chose the quiet life of farmers and never told anyone they were wealthy. I respected their wish. Truth be told, I liked living modestly, too. That’s why I held an ordinary job—to earn my own money. I stayed humble and polite, but the minute someone stepped on me, the spoiled brat inside came out with no filter at all. The “marry‑for‑one‑year” clause? That was entirely my parents’ idea, writ

Liliana’s Point of View Jack and I had claimed the rooftop as our new lunch spot. We spread out our lunch boxes on the low parapet wall and let the breeze cut through the heat. “Everything you make looks delicious—and you even packed dessert,” Jack said between bites. “Did you cook all of this yourself?” I nodded, smiling. Sometimes Manang helped, but most days I handled it so she wouldn’t get too tired. “Weee!” I frowned and smacked the back of his head. He yelped, clutching the sore spot. “Ow! Why’d you do that?” “That’s what you get for doubting me. You never believe anything unless you see it yourself.” “Well, in all the years we’ve been friends I never actually watched you cook.” “Because I only cooked for Gerald—never for anyone else. Your best friend didn’t like sharing.” I stressed the words best friend. Jack’s brows knit. “ Hey—who said she’s still my friend?” “Isn’t she?” “Uh… I punched her this morning.” My eyes widened. “You really did? Tell me everything.” I l