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My Contracted Husband Is My Boss (Eng Ver.)
My Contracted Husband Is My Boss (Eng Ver.)
Author: LMCD22

Chapter 1

Author: LMCD22
last update Last Updated: 2025-04-24 12:45:58

Liliana jolted awake when her phone’s alarm blared by mistake. She silenced it, blinked at the wide space beside her, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.

“Two‑thirty in the morning,” she muttered. “Where are you, Gerald?”

Unable to settle, she slipped out of bed. Gerald had stayed downstairs at their engagement party while she had come up early, half‑tipsy and exhausted. His absence now raised a warning in her heart.

Liliana padded through the suite—no Gerald in the bathroom, none on the balcony. She tried calling him. A flat recording answered:

“The number you dialed is unreachable.”

A cold heaviness settled in her chest. She stepped into the hallway and almost stumbled over a pair of men’s shoes outside the room directly across from hers. Light glinted on the polished leather.

“Gerald’s shoes,” she whispered, recognizing the scuff on the toe. “Did he wander into the wrong room?”

Hesitating only a moment, she lifted the shoes, checked the familiar size, and eased the door open.

The faint scent of whiskey and expensive perfume drifted out. A man’s trousers and a scarlet cocktail dress lay tangled on the carpet. Her pulse pounded as a breathless voice floated through the dim suite.

“Faster, Gerald… ah, faster!”

Liliana’s fingers shook around the shoes. “Mirabelle?” she mouthed, stunned. She stepped over scattered lingerie and Gerald’s boxers—a sickening breadcrumb trail that led toward the bedroom.

Inside, Gerald’s voice growled, thick with desire. “God, Mirabelle, you feel incredible—so much better than your friend who wants to wait until the wedding. I can’t stand the waiting.”

“I told you,” Mirabelle answered on a moan, “call me anytime you need me.”

Three years of love, five years of friendship—shattered in one overheard breath.

“You’re still perfect after two years,” Gerald gasped.

“Two years,” Liliana whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “You’ve been cheating that long?”

“I’m close,” Gerald rasped.

The words ripped something inside her. Anger flared, scorching away shock. She kicked the door wide.

“Damn you both!”

Mirabelle froze, astride Gerald. Gerald, still buried inside his lover, stared at Liliana in horror.

“Liliana, wait—let me explain,” he pleaded, scrambling for the sheet.

“Don’t come near me!” Her voice cracked but rang with fury.

“You saw it wrong,” Gerald insisted, clutching the linen around his waist. “Mirabelle got me drunk. That’s all.”

“Drunk for two years?” Liliana barked a bitter laugh.

Mirabelle’s painted lips curled. “I simply give him what you withhold. He enjoys it. I enjoy it. What’s the crime?”

“Mirabelle, stop,” Gerald hissed.

Liliana’s vision blurred. She stepped forward and slapped Mirabelle across the face. The sharp crack echoed. Grabbing a fistful of the woman’s hair, she yanked hard before Gerald seized her wrists.

“You filthy cheaters!” she screamed, struggling in his grip.

“Enough!” In frustration Gerald shoved her. Liliana stumbled but caught herself, shaking. Her voice wavered yet held steel.

“Call off the engagement and stay out of my life.”

“You can’t,” Gerald snapped. “Be grateful a nerd like you even found a man. And you need me—remember your parents’ will? You have to marry to access the inheritance.”

Liliana’s hand flew again, striking his cheek. “So that’s it. I’m just a bank account to you.”

Gerald’s eyes darkened; he raised his hand to strike back—but another hand caught his wrist.

“Please, sir,” a calm voice said, “show her some respect.”

Liliana gasped. A hotel attendant stood beside her, dressed in a plain black uniform, gold name tag glinting. His expression was neutral yet resolute.

Gerald ripped his arm free, furious. “Who are you? Staff? This is none of your business. Get out.”

The attendant ignored him. Gently, he released Liliana’s hand, slipped off her diamond engagement ring, and flicked it back at Gerald. The ring hit Gerald’s chest and clattered onto the bed. Then the stranger removed a slender silver band from his own finger and slid it onto Liliana’s trembling hand.

“He says no man would want you because you’re a nerd,” the stranger said softly, eyes never leaving Gerald’s. “I will marry you and stay loyal until my last breath. Will you accept, Miss…?”

Liliana’s breath hitched. “Liliana,” she whispered.

“My Liliana,” he replied, smoothing her hair with surprising tenderness.

Gerald’s face flushed scarlet. He moved as if to lunge, outrage twisting his features. The stranger’s gaze flicked downward, assessing. A faint smirk touched his lips.

“Cheaters,” he remarked coolly, “and rather small, too.”

With a strangled roar Gerald charged. The attendant swung one swift kick; Gerald crashed to the carpet, wheezing.

Mirabelle shrieked and pulled the sheet higher.

The stranger turned to Liliana, gaze gentle again. “Shall we go?” He offered his hand.

Liliana stared at the room—the crumpled sheets, discarded clothes, shattered illusions. She slipped her trembling fingers into his warm, steady palm.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Let’s go.”

They walked out together, shoes forgotten on the hallway floor, leaving behind the ruins of her old life.

---

Liliana’s knees threatened to buckle as the elevator doors closed. Adrenaline drained from her limbs, replaced by disbelief.

She drew a shaky breath. “I don’t even know your name.”

He pressed the lobby button, then met her eyes. “Caleb,” he said. “Caleb Hart.”

“Why did you help me? You could lose your job.”

“I don’t work here,” Caleb answered, voice low. “The uniform is a disguise.”

“A disguise?”

He gave a rueful half‑smile. “Long story. Tonight I was meeting a client—and saw you go into that room. I recognized the look in your eyes. No one should face betrayal alone.”

The elevator chimed at the lobby. He kept her hand as they stepped out. Hotel staff glanced their way, but Caleb’s steady stride discouraged questions.

Outside, a soft drizzle dampened the glow of streetlights. Caleb shrugged off the jacket of his borrowed uniform and draped it over her shoulders.

“Your ring,” Liliana said suddenly, touching the silver band he had given her. “It belongs to you.”

“It belongs to you now,” he replied. “But we can discuss everything once you’re safe.”

She managed a wan smile. “I feel safe already.”

They stopped beside a sleek black sedan. A chauffeur jumped out and opened the rear door. Liliana stared. Caleb slid his hand from hers, bowed slightly, and gestured for her to enter.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured.

“That was only the first,” he said, eyes warm. “The rest of your life starts tonight, Liliana—on your terms, not anyone else’s.”

Inside the car, city lights streaked past the windows. Liliana closed her eyes and exhaled. Hurt lingered, but hope stirred, fragile and bright.

She opened her eyes and looked at Caleb. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For showing me I deserve more than lies.”

Caleb’s voice was soft. “You deserve everything true.”

Liliana turned her face toward the night, the silver ring cool against her skin—a promise born in chaos, yet shining like dawn.

And somewhere behind them, in a hotel room that smelled of betrayal, Gerald finally understood what it meant to lose something priceless.

*****

LMCD22

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  • My Contracted Husband Is My Boss (Eng Ver.)   Chapter 17

    3rd Person's Point of ViewLiliana gently held Asher's hand."Tell me everything. I need clarity, and hearing it all from you will help."Asher nodded slowly. “Okay, I'll tell you everything you want to know.” Liliana smiled and nodded in return.Flashback...“I'm serious about marrying you,” Asher said earnestly, his eyes reflecting genuine intent.Liliana's cheeks flushed as she saw the sincerity in his gaze.Asher took her hand, noticing the ring he had placed on her finger earlier."How about you? Will you marry me, Liliana? I want to marry you right now, without asking for anything in return."Liliana, now tipsy, nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I will marry you! Let's go to church." Asher was taken aback as Liliana grabbed his hand and stood up.“The church is closed right now,” he said.Liliana pouted, releasing his hand and clenching her fists to hold back tears.“You don't want to marry me. Gerald was right that no one wants me. No one wants to marry me,” she sobbed.Asher s

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    Liliana’s Point of ViewI quickly chopped the vegetables, smiling to myself as I noticed their amused expressions. They were watching me like it was the first time they had seen someone chop vegetables.“Wow, your faces are hilarious,” I said, laughing softly.“Are you always that fast at chopping vegetables? You look like a real chef,” Zep commented.“I took a year-long cooking class so I could cook for my future husband,” I replied, still focused on the chopping.“I’m ready to taste it,” Asher chimed in.I looked at him and chuckled quietly. Right, he is my husband.“Ash, here, eat this raw vegetable,” I teased, holding out a slice of cucumber.He frowned, took the cucumber, and then handed it to Zep. I laughed when Zep ate it, skin and all.I shook my head at them, amused. “Get out of here, I’m trying to cook.”They pouted at my words, and Asher lightly smacked Zep’s shoulder.“It’s your fault we got kicked out of the kitchen,” he said.I laughed as Asher gently pushed Zep out. The

  • My Contracted Husband Is My Boss (Eng Ver.)   Chapter 15

    Liliana’s Point of View We finished hammering out the details, and Zephyr read every line back to be sure we agreed. “Let me review the items one more time,” he said, scrolling through the tablet. Both Asher and I nodded. “First: yes to physical touch—holding hands, hugs, kisses, whatever you two decide. Liliana, you set the pace; if Mr. Windermere ignores your boundaries, there’ll be penalties.” I nodded, cheeks warming. “Second: no third wheels in the relationship. About your ex—what’s the plan?” “The ex‑fiancé will be useful,” Asher answered calmly. “We’ll let him stew in jealousy.” He arched a brow at me, and I nearly choked. He’d guessed exactly what I wanted. “Like it or not,” he added, “I’ve been part of your plan from the start.” I couldn’t help a quiet laugh. Zephyr shook his head. “Yep—still crazy.” “It’s not insanity,” I said, grinning. “He just reads my mind.” “Mr.—” “Hep‑hep,” Zephyr cut in, wagging a finger. “Rule three: no ‘Mr. Asher.’ You two need endearment

  • My Contracted Husband Is My Boss (Eng Ver.)   Chapter 14

    Liliana’s Point of View I swallowed hard. Calling my boss a servant suddenly felt ridiculous. “N‑Never mind,” I muttered, drying my hands. “Let’s just go.” Before I could step away, Asher planted one hand on the wall, caging me. His face hovered inches from mine. “You still haven’t answered my question. Don’t you want me in your plan, wife?” I cleared my throat. “M‑Mr. Asher—” “Wrong title,” he whispered. “I’m your husband.” He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and grazed it with a fleeting kiss. My cheeks burned. “We’ll talk at your condo—with your lawyer present—so you can see exactly how you’ll fit,” I said, keeping my voice steady. His brows pinched, hurt flickering in his eyes. “So… all this time, I was never part of your plan.” He stepped back, shoulders stiff. “I’ll wait in the car.” He walked off. I rubbed my temples. Great. I’ve wounded a billionaire’s pride. After locking up, I found him holding the car door for me. “Thank you,” I murmured. He nodded once, sl

  • My Contracted Husband Is My Boss (Eng Ver.)   Chapter 13

    Liliana’s Point of View I clapped a hand over my mouth. “I already tasted that,” he murmured. “I was unconscious. I don’t remember a thing,” I shot back. Asher eased closer until our noses almost brushed. “Want me to remind you?” My eyes went wide. I shoved his face away. “N‑No, thanks!” He chuckled softly. “You really are adorable when you panic.” Heat flared in my cheeks. “Are you laughing at me?” “Fine, I’m sorry.” He straightened. “Ready to head out?” I nodded, then paused. “It’s scorching—maybe you should drink water first?” His grin widened. “Concerned about me? I like that, wife.” I rolled my eyes. “Come inside.” In the kitchen I fetched a bottle from the fridge—spotting an array of fresh ingredients that made my stomach rumble. The farmhouse was miles from any café, too. “Hungry?” he asked. “If you haven’t decided on a restaurant, I’ll cook us brunch—well, lunch by now.” “Your kitchen, your rules.” He leaned against the counter. “Need a hand?” “I’ve got it. Sit

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