Accidentally Contracted To The Billionaire CEO のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

Brielle's POV.The muscles in his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth, his deep brown eyes flashing with anger. Yet, in their depths, a spark of vulnerability flickers, hinting at a pain that goes beyond mere fury.“You're really going to cut and run? Just wake up one morning and decide you're done? No discussion, no compromise. Just… gone. You always do this, Brielle, don't you? You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and to hell with everyone else.”I shake my head firmly, my voice trembling with conviction. “That's not true, Andrei. I'm just doing what needs to be done.”“What needs to be done? Yeah. Leaving me, walking out on our agreement, that's what needs to be done_”He runs his fingers through his hair, pacing back and forth as he struggles to contain his emotions. “How… why would you even consider leaving me like this? I don't understand. Have I wronged you in some way?”My heart shatters further, the words barely a whisper, “You haven't wronged me, Andrei. Not really. Exce

Brielle's POV The autumn wind howls outside, but it's nothing compared to the ache within me… “Honey, here's a blanket,” Mom whispers, as she wraps the soft material around my shoulders. I accept it gratefully and pull it blanket tight around me, tucking my hands into its folds to stave off the chill. “You're not getting off the hook that easy, Brielle, If you don't eat, I won't either. We're in this together, you and me. You're not gonna starve yourself while I sit here eating a sandwich.” The food on the table stares back at me, “I'm not hungry, Mom,” I insist, my voice brittle. "I couldn't eat even if I tried." Mom's face crumples a little, her eyes speaking the words her lips won't. “Bri, I know this is hard. How long are you gonna keep crying over this? It's been two days since you got back home, and you haven't stopped,” her hands are gentle as she wipes the tears from my cheeks. "Did Andrei break your heart, or did he stomp on it?" I shake my head, "It's not lik

Brielle's POV The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafts through the air as I enter the kitchen. Mom's setting out our favorite breakfast dishes, and I spot the special mug she only uses on holidays. “Good morning, sleepyhead… Honey, did you apply for that job at Cartridge Corp? Your dad mentioned they were looking for someone with your skills.” I drop into my chair, still shaking off the sleepies, and grab a glass of orange juice. As I take a sip, the tartness helps snap me out of my morning funk. As for the job at Cartridge Corp, I hesitate, unsure of how to respond. I had been putting off applying, unsure if I was ready to dive back into the workforce. But with Dad mentioning it, I know I'll have to face the question eventually. “I…I was thinking about it, Mom,” I say, attempting to sound more… decisive than I feel. “I just need to update my resume and cover letter, and then I'll submit my application.” “That's great, sweetie! I know you'll do fantastic. You

Brielle's POV. A quick glance at my watch confirms my worst fears: 45 minutes late. Not exactly the impression I wanted to make. I leap out of the taxi, already behind schedule. My heels feel like they're slowing me down, but I pick up the pace, dashing through the revolving doors and into the lobby. The reception desk is manned by a gorgeous young woman with jet-black hair, who looks up at me with a sweet, welcoming smile. I feel a sudden pang of self-consciousness as I approach her. “Ms. Monroe, welcome.” she says, her gray eyes sparkling. I nod, wondering how she knew my name. Then I remember — my ID, which I used to apply for the job. “Thank you,” I reply, a faint blush rising to my cheeks. “We've been expecting you, and you arrived right on time… almost,” she teases, “Welcome to Cartridge Industries. We're glad to have you on board, and you're running a bit behind. The boss is expecting you in three minutes. Can it have your ID, please.? “Of course, I'm so sorry,” I apol

Brielle's POV Traffic—the ultimate nemesis. I spent a whole hour stuck in it, and I'm still fuming. I toss a few bucks at the taxi driver and slump out of the cab, letting out a dramatic sigh. The taxi speeds away, leaving me to trudge up to the front door. It's darker than I expected — a reminder that today was a 9-to-6 marathon, not the usual 9-to-5 grind. To complicate things further, I had to rewrite that ridiculous essay five times! Five! What's next? A pop quiz on the history of coffee? I stumble into the house, ready to collapse onto the nearest couch. But, of course, my family has other plans. Mom, Dad, and Ivy are standing in the living room, looking like they've been waiting for my arrival with bated breath. Mom's holding a tiny cake with a single candle on it. Really, Mom? A cake? I just got a job, not a Nobel Prize. I drop my purse on the table, take a deep breath, and make a wish that this job isn't as crazy as it seems. That the CEO isn't actually a robot sent