Semua Bab Mr Billionaire's Borrowed Wife: Bab 1 - Bab 7

Everything turned silent.Not the kind of silence that soothes, but the kind that screams like the dead air left behind after a bomb goes off.These past few days, we’ve been nothing but strangers.I typed at my desk like always, answered calls, sorted documents, scheduled his meetings with the kind of efficiency that could rival any automated system. But him...Nicholas didn’t see me.Not really.He gave orders in short, clipped sentences, no tone, no inflection, like I was just background noise in his workflow, something not worth acknowledging. No smiles. No stolen glances during briefings. Not even a simple “How was your day?” like the ones that used to slip through between chaotic meetings and bitter coffee.I used to know his mood just by the way he said my name. Now, I’m not even sure my voice registers in his mind.I pretended not to care. Wore a neutral expression like all good secretaries do, the kind who learn to hide bruises under tailored blazers. But my body...My body r

Five years later.The Bali sun was ruthless.I was sprawled out on a rattan lounger on the back porch, wearing my favorite black bikini that was aggressively unfriendly to uninvited guests. One arm was tucked under my head, the other holding a chilled glass of mango juice.My house sat on a patch of white sand that opened directly to the Indian Ocean. Not a rental. Not a joint investment. My house. Paid in full with sweat, tears, and one insane project five years ago that, by some miracle, turned into a launching pad.Funny how it all started with one lost Australian socialite who wandered into the flower shop I used to work at part-time. She needed a wedding planner in a week because the last one ran off with the lighting guy.I told her I could do it. Even though, the only thing I’d successfully planned at that point was a resignation letter and an escape suitcase out of New York.But somehow, Maya Moguel turned out to be disturbingly good at turning chaos into something Instagram-w

The day came like bad luck you couldn't outrun.The Balinese sun was too bright for a mood this dark. A soft ocean breeze slipped through the sheer organza curtains strung between white pillars. A long dining table draped in ivory linen stretched across the terrace, clear glass candles lined up in symmetry, and dusty rose and buttercream peonies and garden roses arranged perfectly down the center.Golden light. Like a blow I saw coming but still cracked something inside me.Because all of this, every inch of it, looked exactly like the picture I once built quietly in my head. My dream wedding. My dream decor.Except… it wasn’t for me.I wasn’t the one walking down that aisle. I wasn’t the one standing beneath a floral arch of hydrangeas and eucalyptus while soft classical music played in the background. I wasn’t the one looking at the man at the altar, even if once I thought I could’ve been.I walked through the venue, clipboard in hand, headset in my ear, the voices of vendors and cr