Lahat ng Kabanata ng Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss : Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

VENUSI woke up to stillness.Not the sterile, whitewashed stillness you find in hospitals or hotel rooms. This was intimate. Chilling. Too deliberate. The kind of quiet that feels engineered. Like the room itself was holding its breath.No Gerald.The chair where he’d sat earlier was empty now, the cushion still slightly dented, the air still laced with the remnants of his cologne: bitter citrus and something darker underneath, like rot dressed in silk.My head throbbed. The IV in my arm was gone, but the discomfort clung to my veins like residue. I tested my limbs one by one, slow and cautious. Every muscle ached, every joint protested but I was alive.Barely.Then I felt it.A tug.My right leg was cuffed to the bedpost.Not cruelly. Not tight enough to bruise or restrict circulation. Just… secure. Like I was a treasured object, something precious and fragile that might wander off if left unattended.My eyes settled on the restraint. Polished silver, clinical in its design. The key

VENUSThe days crawled by with agonizing precision, each second dragging like it had something to prove. Gerald, in his infinite delusion, thought he’d earned something from me. Maybe respect. Maybe affection. Maybe gratitude. Whatever it was, he called it trust. I called it bait.After my feigned obedience—the rehearsed smiles, the whispered thank-yous that tasted like ash, the hollow compliance that curled at the edges—he gave me a reward.He unlocked the cuff.Not both. Just the one.My right wrist, finally free, felt almost weightless. I could stretch, shift, pace the length of the room in lazy, bitter loops. It was freedom in the cruelest sense: just enough to remind me what I’d lost. The left wrist remained shackled to the bedpost, a constant anchor. A reminder.The door? Still locked. Always locked. The windows? Sealed with industrial expertise. No latch, no hinge, no give. It was like the room itself had been hermetically sealed, vacuum-packed for captivity. Time didn’t flow h

VENUSThe silence had grown thick. Not just with boredom or fear, but with something colder, meaner. The kind of silence that didn’t just exist....it waited. It loomed like a shadow just out of reach. It carried weight like a loaded gun, full of intent, full of consequence.Time passed.Or maybe it didn’t.Time had long ago stopped meaning anything in this place. The walls didn’t shift with the sun. The light didn’t change. There were no clocks, no schedules. Only hunger pangs and Gerald’s unpredictable footsteps to break the monotony. I’d drift in and out of sleep, startled awake by my own heartbeat, always hearing echoes of words he’d said.The city. He said the city.That one word still rang like a distant bell in the fog. “City.” He hadn’t said in the city. He’d said he’d have to go to the city. That meant we weren’t there. That meant isolation. It meant distance. It meant no one could hear me scream.I’d held onto that word like a talisman, a shard of truth in a room built on lie

VENUSThe silence wasn’t just thick anymore, it was sentient. It no longer filled the room passively; it loomed. It listened. It judged. Every second inside this place crawled across my skin like something alive. Something waiting. Gerald had grown quieter, but not calmer. There was a new edge to him now, a kind of manic energy that didn’t speak in volume but in tension. In the twitch at the corner of his mouth. In the pause between his movements. In the way he stood by the window and stared through the blinds, like the trees themselves were conspiring against him.He was unraveling. Slowly. Horribly.And I said nothing.I didn’t ask anymore. Didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Not because I’d learned to cope but because I’d stopped hoping.Escape? That was a fairytale I no longer read.I lived by rhythms now. Not freedom. Not survival. Just cycles. I woke up. I ate if he asked me to. I moved when told. I listened. I responded. I obeyed, even when it killed me inside.The strange thing about i

VENUSWhen consciousness finally clawed its way back to me, it came in fragments. My eyelids felt like they had been weighed down with lead, my head thick, foggy, heavy as if it no longer belonged to me. I blinked once, twice, and the blurred shapes around me began to sharpen, not into comfort, not into safety, but into something unfamiliar.The first thing I noticed was the smell. Damp wood. Stale air. A faint hint of pine seeping through the cracks of whatever place we were in. The mattress beneath me was thin, lumpy, covered with a scratchy blanket that smelled like dust and old smoke. The walls weren’t painted. Bare wood planks, some splintering, some water-stained. A small window high up on one wall, no curtains, no glass. just wooden boards nailed shut from the outside.The other cottage had been… if not home, then at least an imitation of it. This? This was a hiding place. Temporary. Makeshift. A hole dug into the world for a man on the run.And sitting there, on the edge of th