All Chapters of Billionaire’s Contracted Maid Is His Bride : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

...Serene’s POV I couldn’t breathe.The second Stella’s phone screen went dark, I mumbled something about a headache and fled. I didn’t run. I couldn’t, not with the way my legs shook but I moved fast, slipping out of the living room before Stella could stop me.My bare feet carried me down the hallway, past the guarded glances of the staff, past Nicholas’s closed bedroom door that still smelled like sex and ropes and him, until I reached the guest room that had once been mine.I locked the door behind me. Leaned against it. Slid down until I was sitting on the floor, knees to my chest. Kate.The name clawed at my throat like broken glass. I’d heard her name but never knew …… she was his ex wife. Nicholas never spoke of her. No photos in the penthouse. No trace. Like she’d been erased. But now she was back, stepping off a private jet in red lipstick and vengeance, and the entire world was watching.My chest caved in.I dragged myself to the en-suite bathroom, hands shaking so bad

...Serene’s POV I stood in the foyer, frozen, while Nicholas’s words roamed my mind. The words ricocheted inside my skull, louder than the rain, louder than my own heartbeat.Nicholas hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t denied it.Something inside me cracked wide open.I looked down at my left hand. The ring he’d slid onto my finger the night of the engagement party, a platinum, a single black diamond, heavy as a shackle, glinted mockingly under the chandelier. I’d worn it like a brand. Like proof I belonged to him.I hated how much I’d started to like the weight of it.My fingers trembled as I twisted it. Once. Twice. The metal scraped over my knuckle, catching for a second before it finally came free.I didn’t look at anyone. Not Stella’s wide, horrified eyes. Not Christian’s tense silence. And definitely not Nicholas.I let the ring fall.It hit the marble with a sound too small for the way it shattered everything inside me. A tiny metallic ping, then silence.I wiped my tears

...Author’s POV The city was still wrapped in the bruised hush of pre-dawn when Nicholas Volkov let himself into the crumbling apartment with the key he’d never returned. The lock gave with a soft click, the way it always had. Nothing had changed. the peeling paint, the single flickering hallway bulb, the faint smell of damp and cheap detergent. Everything was exactly as it had been the night he’d taken her away in a black town car. Except her.She was curled on the narrow bed like a wounded thing, knees drawn to her chest, his oversized hoodie swallowed her small frame, hood pulled up over her dark hair. Moonlight spilled through the cracked window, painting silver across her tear-streaked cheeks. Even in sleep she looked exhausted, fragile, breakable.Nicholas stood in the doorway longer than he meant to, chest tight, fists clenched at his sides. He had torn half the penthouse apart last night, bled on marble, roared at his own reflection, and still the ache hadn’t eased. Not

...Serene’s POV The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and the penthouse swallowed us whole.I’d barely caught my breath from being carried over his shoulder like a sack of flour when the familiar scent of cedar and leather hit me. My stomach lurched. I hated how much it still felt like coming home.Rufus and David were in the living room.Rufus stood near the kitchen island, polishing a glass that didn’t need polishing. David leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Both men froze the second they saw us. Their eyes flicked from Nicholas’s disheveled hair and blood-shot eyes to me. hair wild, cheeks tear-streaked, still wearing his hoodie like a dress.I squirmed harder, kicking my legs. “Put me down!”Nicholas didn’t even break stride. He walked straight to the long leather couch and lowered me (gently, damn him) until my feet touched the floor. The gentleness was worse than violence. It made me want to scream.Rufus cleared his throat. “Sir—”“Rufu

...Serene’s POV I didn’t want to leave the bedroom, but Stella had practically dragged me downstairs with promises of wine and zero talk about contracts, ex-wives, or rings. Jules was already sprawled across the sectional, phone in one hand, mimosa in the other, red curls exploding everywhere.“Come on, corpse bride,” Jules teased, patting the cushion beside her. “You look like you need vitamin D and dick pics. In that order.”Stella snorted into her coffee. I managed a tiny laugh despite myself and sank onto the couch, pulling Nicholas’s hoodie tighter around me like armor.For the first time in forty-eight hours, the air felt almost normal.Jules flicked through her phone, showing us photos from some dating app she’d apparently downloaded “for research.” Shirtless guys on yachts, guys with puppies, guys doing that obnoxious finger-to-the-lip pose.“Okay, but look at this one,” Jules said, zooming in on a bronze god with dimples sharp enough to cut glass. “Tell me you wouldn’t l