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Chapter 38

Auteur: Kathy L. Senior
last update Date de publication: 2026-04-24 19:03:54

Lena

I was in the garden when Nate texted me.

Not a message. Just a link to the statement and a single line underneath: He went to bat for you.

I read the statement on my phone sitting among my mother's roses in the November cold with a blanket over my shoulders that Mrs. Billy had brought out without being asked.

I read it once.

Read it again.

There was a section, the part about my contribution to the gala, that had a quote from Nate that I was fairly certain I would need to sit with for a lon
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  • Three-Years Contract Marriage with the Billionaire    CHAPTER 124: THE FINAL

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  • Three-Years Contract Marriage with the Billionaire    CHAPTER 123: THE REAL THING

    LENA'S POVThe foundation opened on the first of April.I had not planned the date. It had simply worked out that way, the permits and the lease and the final signatures aligning on a morning in spring, and I chose to read it as a thing that meant something, that new things were allowed to begin in the same month the world started greening again, that April was as good a month as any for the specific and practical work of rebuilding.We called it The Sophia Foundation.Not for our daughter. For my mother.Sophia Carter had been a woman who gave things: her time, her roses, her specific and patient attention to the people who needed it. She had given me everything she had before Bridget took her. It seemed right that her name should be on the door of a place where women came who needed what she had always offered — safety, dignity, and the particular and concrete belief that they were worth saving.Mrs. Billy was the director.This had been my idea. Julian had looked at me across the b

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    LENA'S POVThe hospital bag had been packed for two months.It sat by the door of the NICU family room, soft pink handles folded over each other, a onesie on top that Mrs. Billy had chosen because she said yellow was the color of things beginning. I had looked at it every day for sixty-one days. I had touched the handles on the hard days and the good days both, the days when Sophia's oxygen levels climbed and the days when the monitors screamed and the nurses moved fast and Julian stood at the incubator glass with his hand pressed flat against it like the pressure of his hand could reach her through the barrier and hold her here.He did that a lot. The hand against the glass.I don't think he knew he was doing it.I knew. I had watched him the way you watch a man who doesn't know he's being watched, who has let down every defense because the thing behind the glass is four pounds and fighting and it has his jaw and my mother's name and it is the realest thing either of us has ever made

  • Three-Years Contract Marriage with the Billionaire    CHAPTER 121:THE EVIDENCE

    JULIANI sat with the why.I sat with it in the quiet of the dining room with the specific and remaining evidence of the dinner, the glasses, the plates Mrs. Billy had cleared, the napkin she had folded with the particular and tidy quality of her hands, and I sat with the why of tonight and I thought about what had changed between the previous runnings and this one.The terrace had changed it.The one centimeter.I thought: she said something tonight because of the one centimeter.I thought: she needed to say something because of the one centimeter.I thought about what that meant.I thought about it carefully.I thought: a woman does not call a thing out because it does not matter to her.I thought: she said you're running because the running mattered.I thought: the running mattered because the thing you are running from matters.I thought: to both of you.I sat at the table.I looked at the wall.The lamp on the credenza was the specific and only light in the room now, the particul

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  • Three-Years Contract Marriage with the Billionaire    CHAPTER 120: A WOMAN VOICE

    JULIAN"Those things," she said, in the specific and quiet voice of a woman completing a thought, "are not the things a man does when he is managing a professional arrangement."She set the wine down."And tonight," she said, "you are being exactly what a man is when he is managing a professional arrangement."She looked at me."So," she said.She did not complete the sentence.She did not need to.The so sat on the table between us with the particular and complete quality of a sentence that was its own conclusion, that did not need the rest of the sentence because the rest of the sentence was already in the room, was in the specific and present air of the dinner table and had been in it since I had sat down with my perfect and brutal politeness and my careful and managed sequence of professional inquiries.The so.I looked at her.She looked at me.I did not have anything to say.I want to be precise about this: I am a man who usually has something to say, who has the particular and

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