All Chapters of Billionaire Contract Marriage: Her Quest : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

David’s POVThe penthouse felt too quiet after the storm of the day. Rain still tapped the windows like it had something to prove, but inside it was just us—me standing by the glass, Sophia watching from the kitchen island like she wasn’t sure whether to approach or retreat.I could feel her eyes on me. Heavy. Searching.I turned. Caught her mid-stare.“You’re staring,” I said, keeping my voice low.“You’re in my house,” she answered. “I’m allowed.”A smile pulled at my mouth despite everything. “Fair.”I crossed the room slowly. Always slowly with her. Always giving her the space to decide. I stopped a few feet away—close enough to see the faint tremor in her fingers around the coffee mug, far enough that she could breathe.“Talk to me,” I said. “You’ve been quiet since Albany.”She set the mug down. Looked at her hands. “The mechanic confirmed it. Uncle Richard. Paid to sabotage the brakes. Twenty years of suspicion, and now it’s real.”I nodded. Waited.“And I feel… nothing.” Her v

Sophia's POV I woke up gasping, lungs burning like I’d never left the river.The bedroom was dark except for the faint blue glow from the city bleeding through the curtains. My heart slammed so hard I thought it might crack a rib. Sheets twisted around my legs like ropes. Sweat soaked my tank top, cold and clinging.Water. Everywhere. Rising fast. Black. Cold. I could still taste it—river mud, diesel, fear.I clawed at the sheets, trying to kick free, small panicked sounds escaping my throat.David’s arm tightened around me before my brain fully registered he was awake.“Hey,” he whispered, voice rough with sleep but steady. “You’re here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”I couldn’t speak. Just shook my head against his chest, breaths coming too fast, too shallow.He didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t try to fix it with words. He just shifted so I was cradled against him—chest to chest, one hand rubbing slow circles on my back, the other cradling the back of my head like I was something prec

Sophia's POV The dining table had become our war room without either of us saying it out loud.Files, printouts, and laptop screens covered the glass surface—old police reports yellowed at the edges, financial trails highlighted in yellow marker, the mechanic’s sworn statement stapled to Chen’s latest memo. Coffee mugs formed a loose perimeter, half-empty, rings staining the wood beneath. Rain still drummed the windows, softer now, like it was tired of fighting.David sat across from me, sleeves rolled to his elbows, reading through a bank statement for the third time that night. His brow furrowed in that quiet, focused way that always made my chest ache a little—concentration mixed with care, like he was trying to protect me from the numbers themselves.“Here,” he said suddenly, tapping a line with his pen. “Wire transfer. Same day as the mechanic’s cash payment. From a shell company tied to your uncle’s holding group. Small enough to look like nothing—twenty thousand—but it matches

David’s POVShe woke up screaming again.Not loud—more like a choked sob that ripped out of her throat before she could catch it. The sound hit me like a punch. I was awake in an instant, heart slamming, arms already reaching.“Sophia—”She thrashed once—wild, instinctive—then froze when my hands found her shoulders.“Hey. Hey, it’s me.” I kept my voice low, steady. “You’re safe. You’re here.”Her eyes were wide open but not seeing me—still trapped somewhere dark and cold. Breathing too fast. Too shallow. Hands clawing at the sheets like they were water pulling her under.I didn’t shake her. Didn’t shout. Just slid closer until my chest pressed against her back, arms wrapping around her from behind. One hand over her heart—feeling the frantic thud. The other cradling her head against my shoulder.“Breathe with me,” I whispered into her hair. “In… hold… out. Slow. I’ve got you.”She tried. First breath came out jagged. Second better. Third—still shaky, but following.I kept the rhythm.

Sophia’s POVThe boardroom on the forty-eighth floor felt colder than usual.Not because of the air conditioning—though it was on full blast—but because twelve pairs of eyes were watching me like I might crack under the weight of their questions. The Asian expansion proposal had been on the table for months. Today I was forcing it through.I stood at the head of the table in charcoal silk, hair pulled back, mother’s diamonds at my throat like armor.“Gentlemen,” I said, voice cutting through the low murmur. “We’re not debating feasibility anymore. We’re debating timeline. The Singapore site breaks ground in ninety days. Tokyo follows six months later. Objections?”Silence.Then Hargrove—the oldest board member, the one who still called me “young lady” when he thought I couldn’t hear—cleared his throat.“Risk is high, Sophia. Supply chain volatility. Geopolitical—”“Risk is always high,” I interrupted. “That’s why we pay you. To manage it. Not to stall.”He flushed. The others shifted.