Todos os capítulos de Married to my Cold BILLIONAIRE Boss: Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 6

The airport smelled like coffee and anxiety. I moved through it without seeing, security, gate, the endless corridor of shops selling things no one needed at 5 AM. My body performed the motions while my mind circled the same thought: I left. I actually left.The gate agent scanned my phone. "Flight 1847 to New York. Seat 12B."I found it. Economy, last row, window. The seatbelt clicked with a sound that felt final. I stared at the tarmac, gray and wet with dawn, and waited for the tears to come.They didn't.Instead: numbness. A strange, floating sensation, like the ground had dropped away but I hadn't started falling yet. I thought of David waking up. Finding me gone. The cake still on the floor, chocolate seeping into the wood grain. Would he clean it? Would Samantha? Would they stay in our bed, laughing about how dramatic I'd been?The plane filled around me. Businessmen with laptops. A family with a crying toddler. No one looked twice at the woman in yesterday's blouse, no makeup,

"Dianne," she said. "May I come in?"I didn't move. My hand was still wrapped in blue thread from the rabbit I'd never fixed."I know what you're thinking," she continued. "You're thinking this is dramatic." She tilted her head. "But I didn't come for drama. I came to tell you three things. Then I'll leave."I should have walked away. Should have called security, called Marcus, called the man who'd warned me not to expect explanations.I opened the door.She entered without waiting for invitation. Heels silent on carpet, rubber soles, expensive, designed for this. She moved through the living room, touched the lilies, wrinkled her nose. "He still does this. The research. The inventory." She turned. "I used to think it meant he cared."She settled on the couch. The same couch where I'd sat with thread in my hand. She belonged there in a way I never would."First," she said, holding up one finger. "You're not special. You're scheduled. Each wife gets a different wound to heal. I got his

The car smelled like leather and Alexander's silence.I sat with my knees pressed together, watching the city blur into gold through tinted glass. The dress he'd chosen was red, silk that moved when I breathed, cut lower than anything I'd owned. I kept wanting to cover my chest with my palm. I kept stopping myself."Stop fidgeting." Alexander didn't look up from his phone. "Your hand has moved twelve times in two minutes.""I'm adjusting the strap.""You're performing nervousness." He finally looked at me. The blue eyes caught the streetlights, cold and assessing. "Rachel will look for that. She'll see the strap adjustment, the hand at your throat, the way you keep checking your reflection in the windows." He paused. "She'll know you're uncertain. And she'll use it.""I'm not uncertain." I turned to face him. "I'm realistic. I don't belong here.""You belong where I put you." He returned to his phone, thumb moving. "That's the only reality that matters tonight."The car stopped. Valet