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Chapter 88: My Husband Was Terrible at Pottery
Tanggal publikasi:
2026-09-11 01:38:15
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The Billionaire’s Wife Does Not Exist Chapter 94: My Husband Liked Being Mine
I did not, in fact, remove the bowl from the living room, though I noted with satisfaction that Roman spent the next twenty minutes behaving with the exaggerated caution of a man who genuinely believed I might. We moved through the reception together after that, his hand finding the small of my back whenever we shifted between conversations, and somewhere near the dance floor he pulled me in without asking, his mouth close enough to my ear that nobody else could hear him."You still haven't admitted it properly.""I have admitted nothing.""You threatened structural violence against a piece of pottery.""That was a warning, not an admission."He turned us slowly, easy and unhurried, and I felt myself give it up a little at a time, the way I always eventually did with him. "Fine," I said. "I didn't love watching her know things about you I don't get to know. Stories I wasn't there for. Some version of you that existed before I did." I said it lightly, but it sat underneath the lightnes
The Billionaire’s Wife Does Not Exist Chapter 93: I Was Worse at Jealousy Than My Husband
I was handling it well, or at least well enough, learning names as they were offered, holding my own in conversations about people and history I had no context for, Roman's hand a steady, unobtrusive presence at my back through most of it. And then a woman in deep green approached with the particular ease of someone who'd known him for decades, and I watched something shift immediately in his posture, warm and unguarded in a way that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with years I hadn't been present for."Roman Ashbourne." She said his full name like it was a private joke. "Still terrible at these things?""Improving, apparently.""You once hid in the coat room for forty minutes at one of these to avoid your grandmother's business partner.""That story is exaggerated.""It is not. I found you. You were eating hors d'oeuvres out of a napkin like a criminal."He laughed, genuinely, the kind of easy laugh that came from someone who'd known him before Ashbourne had fully swal
The Billionaire’s Wife Does Not Exist Chapter 92: I Made My Jealous Husband Suffer
I discovered, over the next two days, that provoking Roman was significantly more entertaining than I'd anticipated, and I did not feel even slightly guilty about it."Adrian thinks we should push the deadline on the Hendricks panel a week," I mentioned over dinner, entirely too casually. "He's usually right about timelines."Roman's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Is he.""Almost always. He has a very good instinct for these things.""Fascinating.""He also thinks the new intake process I designed is better than the old one, which is high praise, considering he was very attached to the old one.""I'm sure he was devastated to admit it.""He said it with real reluctance."Roman set his fork down with the deliberate calm of a man who was absolutely not going to give me the reaction I wanted, which of course told me exactly how well it was working. "Adrian sounds like a very insightful colleague." "He is." "I'm developing a great respect for him." "You've never even met him properly.
The Billionaire’s Wife Does Not Exist Chapter 91: My Husband Admitted He Was Jealous
"I'm not jealous," he said, immediately, entirely too fast to be convincing."Roman.""I'm processing information.""You're jealous."He was quiet for a second, jaw working like he was deciding whether dignity was worth the fight. "Fine. A little." He said it like a concession in a negotiation he'd clearly lost before it started. "Not because I think anything's happening. I trust you completely. I trust him, professionally, as much as I can trust a man who apparently gets to look at your work up close on a Tuesday night while I'm across town not understanding a single thing you're talking about.""You could learn.""I have no interest in humidity readings.""You have interest in whatever lets you understand this part of my life.""That's not the same as interest in the wood itself."I laughed, delighted, and didn't rush to smooth it over the way I might have years ago, some old instinct to manage his feelings before they became inconvenient. I just let him sit in it, watching him try
The Billionaire’s Wife Does Not Exist Chapter 90: My Husband Heard Adrian’s Name
I answered on the third ring, Roman still close enough that I could feel him not-quite listening, pretending sudden interest in the bowl he'd been trying to relocate all evening."Sorry, I know it's late," Adrian said, no preamble, straight into the problem the way he always was. "The Hendricks panel. The one we flagged for the humidity issue last month. The reading spiked again tonight and I don't trust myself to make the call on whether we pull it or leave it another week.""How high?"He gave me the number, and I felt myself shift automatically into the part of my brain that lived for exactly this kind of problem, running through the material, the timeline, the risk of moving it versus the risk of leaving it exposed. Roman watched me change in real time, laughing wife dissolving into something more precise, more certain, and I caught him noticing without saying anything about it."Pull it," I said. "Tonight if you can get someone in, tomorrow morning at the latest. That reading's c
The Billionaire’s Wife Does Not Exist Chapter 89: We Forgot About the Rest of the World
"It's going in the living room." "It is going nowhere near the living room." "It's earned its place." "It has earned banishment." I carried the crooked bowl the entire drive home like a trophy, and Roman spent the whole time looking at it in the passenger seat with the wariness of a man escorting an unexploded device.Back at the townhouse, I set it deliberately on the console table by the door, and he moved it to the kitchen counter within ten minutes, muttering something about it being "closer to disposal" from there. I moved it back. He relocated it a second time. By the third relocation we'd stopped pretending to be serious about it and were mostly just laughing, clay still drying in patches on both of us from the studio."You have some on your neck," he said, reaching to brush it away, his thumb lingering a beat longer than the cleanup strictly required."You have some in your eyebrow.""That's structurally impossible.""It's very possible. It's right there."He went to check in
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