All Chapters of Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

~Reid~Switzerland was colder than I remembered. Or maybe it was just me.The glass-walled conference room overlooked Lake Geneva, its icy surface reflecting the pale winter sun. Beyond it, the snow-capped Alps stood sharp against a cloudless blue sky — beautiful, imposing, unmoving.It should’ve been calming. Impressive, even.But all I felt was restless.Because my phone sat face-down on the table, and I was forcing myself not to check it.“Mr. Callahan?”I looked up, masking my distraction with practiced ease. My expression was unreadable — the kind I’d perfected over years of negotiations and high-stakes deals.“Go on,” I said coolly.The man across from me — some European financier with too much confidence and not enough leverage — shifted nervously under my gaze. The room was warm, but I watched a bead of sweat slip down his temple.Good.That meant I still had the upper hand.“We’re prepared to move forward with the terms you outlined,” he said, his voice carefully measured. “B

~Fallon~The mansion felt colder when Reid wasn’t in it.Not that I cared.I kept telling myself that.The silence was a blessing — no arguments, no clipped conversations, no lingering looks I didn’t want to think about. No pretending. Just peace.And yet, the emptiness pressed down harder than it should have. It stretched through every inch of the house, filling the polished rooms and pristine hallways with a quiet that felt heavy instead of restful. The house was too big, too elegant — and without the sharp edge of Reid’s presence, it felt like a museum. Beautiful and hollow.But that was a good thing. It was what I wanted.At least that’s what I told myself as I wandered into the kitchen for a late-night snack. The clock on the wall read just after midnight, and the cool marble floors sent a shiver up my spine. I moved on instinct, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of water from the fridge, trying not to think about the ache of the quiet.I shouldn’t miss his voice.Or

~Fallon~Days passed. Then a week.And I barely saw my supposed husband.It was almost impressive—the way Reid managed to disappear without ever technically leaving. The house was massive, sprawling in every direction, but it still felt like a skill. Like he knew exactly how to avoid me without making it obvious.His side of the mansion stayed quiet. The heavy door to his office remained closed more often than not, and when I passed by, I sometimes caught the low murmur of his voice—clipped conversations that never involved me.And when I didn’t hear him at all—The silence was worse.We fell into a strange rhythm—two people sharing a home without ever really occupying it together.Reid left early. I’d hear the sound of his footsteps in the hallway before sunrise, the soft click of the front door closing behind him. By the time I finally wandered into the kitchen, his coffee mug was already rinsed and gone, his presence reduced to a faint trace of cologne lingering in the air.I staye

~Reid~I’ve always prided myself on maintaining control—both in the boardroom and in my personal life. But sometimes, even I can’t silence the disquiet that gnaws at the edges of my carefully constructed façade. The gala was supposed to be a simple public relations event: a stage for the perfect couple, a polished performance for the cameras. And yet, as I watched Fallon in that midnight blue dress, smiling for the flashbulbs while I played the stoic billionaire husband, I felt something crack deep inside.I remember the moment vividly. Standing on the red carpet, my hand on hers, I saw a flicker in her eyes—an emotion I’d been trying to lock away. I forced a smile for the press and the cameras, but inside, I was seething with conflicted feelings. Was it anger? Regret? Or something I wasn’t ready to admit at all—an unexpected, raw vulnerability?After the gala, I returned to the quiet of my own world in LA. The mansion, my private sanctuary, was as pristine as ever. Yet every corner e

~Fallon~The energy of a launch event was electric — bright lights, loud music, and the hum of conversations between the who’s-who of the industry. It was the kind of night where everything sparkled: the clothes, the jewelry, the champagne — even the air itself felt charged with anticipation.And as I stepped into the sprawling venue for Lumière’s highly anticipated product launch, I felt something I hadn’t in weeks.Excitement.This was my world.Not the cold marble floors of Reid’s mansion. Not the high-stakes dinner parties or whispered conversations about mergers. Not the pressure of being the perfect wife in a marriage built on carefully constructed lies.Here, I was Fallon Prescott Callahan — the influencer. The brand. The woman everyone wanted to know.And tonight? I was ready to shine.My phone buzzed nonstop with notifications as soon as I posted my fit check.The dress was a showstopper — soft gold silk that draped like liquid, the hem brushing my ankles while the thigh-high