All Chapters of Second Choice: Wife by contract: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

My phone buzzes again in my hand.Another message from Ethan.For a second my heart jumps stupidly fast, like it always does when his name lights up the screen.But when I open it, it’s just the little “delivered” notification under the first text.No second message.Just the one.I meant what I said. I’m not giving up on us. Why are you?I stare at it longer than I should.Sunny shifts on the rug behind me, snoring softly like his entire life is simple and uncomplicated.Lucky dog.My thumbs hover over the keyboard.I type three words.I’m not giving up.Then I delete them.Because it’s not that simple.Nothing with Ethan has ever been that simple.I lock the phone and drop it onto the couch like it might start another argument if I keep looking at it.“Great,” I mutter to myself.Sunny lifts his head, ears twitching.“Not you,” I say.He stares at me for a second, then flops back down dramatically.I sit there for a while. Just breathing. Trying to pretend my stomach doesn’t feel li

Morning starts with noise.Not the catastrophic kind. Nothing dramatic. Just the steady, irritating soundtrack of construction. Drills whining against wood. Someone dragging a ladder across the floor. Two workers arguing about measurements near the wall where the new library shelves are supposed to go.It’s loud enough that I’ve already finished half my second coffee without remembering when I poured it.The café smells different lately. Coffee, yes. But also sawdust. Fresh wood. A faint chemical note from paint drying somewhere behind the counter. Progress, technically.Still. Progress is louder than I expected.I’m standing behind the register when Luca walks in with a folder tucked under his arm.He looks… normal.Which immediately makes me suspicious.“Morning,” he says.“Morning.”I tilt my head toward the construction noise behind him.“Your people are destroying my peace.”“They’re improving your peace,” he says.I sip my coffee and watch a worker carry a long plank toward the

The phone feels warm against my ear.“A complaint?” I repeat.I’m standing outside the café, leaning against the brick wall near the door. The street is mostly empty now. A car passes slowly at the end of the block and disappears around the corner.“Yes,” Ethan says. “A resident within two blocks.”I watch the quiet sidewalk for a second. Someone reported construction noise. It shouldn’t surprise me. Cities are full of people who notice things like that.Still.“That’s… annoying,” I say.“More than annoying,” he replies. “But it explains the stop order.”I shift my weight and nudge a crack in the pavement with the tip of my shoe.“So what happens now?”“I spoke to someone in the regulatory office,” he says. “They reviewed the permit file.”“And?”“The paperwork on your side is solid.”I blink.“So you’re saying…”“The stop order can be lifted after a compliance review.”The relief doesn’t rush in the way I expected. It’s quieter than that. More like the slow feeling of something uncle

Morning in London always feels a little gray, even when the sky is technically bright.The light slips through the tall windows in Ethan’s apartment like it’s still deciding whether it wants to be daytime or not. Everything looks softer. Muted. The buildings outside are damp from last night’s rain, and somewhere down on the street a car rolls past slowly.I wake up without meaning to.No alarm. No sudden movement. Just my body realizing it’s not in Miami.For a few seconds I stare at the ceiling, trying to remember where I am. The room feels unfamiliar in that quiet way hotel rooms do, except this isn’t a hotel.Then I turn my head.Ethan is still asleep.One arm stretched across the pillow like he moved during the night and never bothered fixing it. His hair is a mess. There’s a faint crease on his cheek from the pillowcase.I watch him longer than I probably should.It’s strange how quickly something can start to feel normal again. A few hours ago we were in a restaurant pretending

The office feels different after his father leaves.Nothing has actually changed. The door is closed again. The glass walls still hold the same pale London sky. Somewhere below us traffic moves along the street like it always does. Life continues, indifferent.But the room feels… rearranged.Ethan is standing a few feet away from me, staring at the door his father just walked through. One hand rests on the back of the chair where the coat had been. The other moves slowly through his hair, like he’s smoothing down thoughts that don’t quite settle.He exhales.“Well.”It comes out quiet. Half a sentence.“That went better than expected.”I turn toward him. “That was better?”“He didn’t start a financial war.”“That’s your benchmark now?”He lets out a soft, tired laugh. Then finally looks at me.For a moment we just stand there, the conversation replaying in both our heads. I realize I haven’t moved since his father left, like my body paused and forgot to resume.I take a few steps towa