Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 231 - チャプター 240

AARONConsciousness didn’t return gently.It hit like a violent shove from underwater, dragging me up so fast the air scraped my throat.My eyes snapped open.Darkness.Silence.And an unfamiliar weight pressing against my skull.For a long moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. My limbs felt submerged in concrete. My vision blurred and steadied in uneven waves. The ceiling swam. The shadows twisted. My heartbeat slammed against my ribs with an erratic, sluggish thud.What… happened?I tried to sit up.My muscles didn’t obey.A low sound tore out of me—half groan, half curse—as I forced my body upright, bracing a trembling hand against the mattress.The room tilted to the left.Then the right.I blinked hard, trying to force my thoughts to stop sliding around like oil on water.Focus.Focus, dammit.What—what time is it?I reached toward the nightstand, knocking into the lamp before my fingers brushed the cold surface of my phone.Black screen.Dead or silenced. Couldn’t tell.Next

AARON The second I stepped out of the bedroom, the house felt… wrong. Too quiet for the kind of hurricane that had just torn through it. The overhead lights hummed softly—annoyingly—like they could sense the pounding in my skull and wanted to contribute. The sedative haze Venus put me under hadn’t fully cleared; my head still throbbed with every movement, an echo of her words replaying like a cracked record in my mind. You ruin everything… Aaron… That one cut deeper than the bullet that nearly killed me. I closed the bedroom door gently behind me, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth. There wasn’t time—not to think, not to process the wreckage she’d left behind in my chest. Iris was still missing. Venus was unraveling. And whatever she’d walked into tonight… it had her speaking with a voice that wasn’t hers. I moved down the hallway, my steps quiet out of instinct. The kids. I needed to be sure they were okay. Connor and Rick’s voices drifted from the living room—low, tense

VENUSMy phone vibrated on the countertop.The sound was small. Ordinary.I froze, water still pouring over my shoulders, breath snagging halfway through an inhale. For one irrational second, I considered leaving it there, letting it buzz until the battery died, pretending ignorance could still protect me.But Andrea didn’t do maybes.I shut the water off and reached for the towel, wrapping it tight as I stepped out of the shower. Cold tile bit into my feet, grounding me just enough to move. In the mirror, a woman stared back. She was calm, composed and in control.She was a liar.I picked up the phone.One message lit the screen.>Can’t lie—you put on a good show. Didn’t think you had it in you.My stomach hollowed out.Not fear.Confirmation.Clarity settled in with sickening precision. Andrea hadn’t guessed. She hadn’t assumed. She knew exactly how last night had gone.Which meant one thing.I wasn’t alone.Either the house was bugged—listening devices tucked into vents, cameras hi

VENUSThe clinic rose before us like a block of clean intentions—glass, steel, pale stone—all polished to reassure. Sunlight bounced off the façade and into my eyes as the convoy slowed. Security fanned out, earpieces buzzing faintly, the world rearranging itself around us.George squeezed my hand as we stepped inside.“I don’t like the smell,” he whispered.“I know,” I said, smiling down at him. “Hospitals and clinics always smell like… rules.”He let out a small, nervous laugh, tension easing just a fraction. Aaron walked on George’s other side, shoulder brushing mine in the narrow entryway. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t need to. I could feel the rigid heat of him there—alert, wound tight, ready to pounce.The lobby hummed with quiet activity: soft voices, rubber soles against tile, a wall-mounted screen looping a video about coping skills. The words slid past me. I didn’t need them.Check-in complete. Names confirmed, appointments verified. Security spread out again: two men drifted

AARONI didn’t follow her.That was the first fracture.I stood there in the hallway, long after Venus disappeared into the therapy room, long after the sound of George’s laughter softened into the therapist’s calm cadence. Long after the door clicked shut and sealed me out of my own family.I stood there because moving felt like choosing the wrong future.My chest was tight in that way I recognized too well—the pressure that came when instinct and restraint collided. When every part of me wanted to act, to intervene, to fix, but I’d learned the hard way that force only made certain kinds of wounds fester.“You don’t know what you’re doing anymore.”I’d said it quietly. Carefully. She’d smiled.That was the moment something in me went cold.Not because of the words that followed. Those were sharp, yes—barbed and precise—but words were weapons Venus had always known how to wield. No, it was the smile that did it. The controlled one. The deliberate one. The smile she used when she’d al