All Chapters of Married To My Cold Billionaire CEO For hundred days : Chapter 11 - Chapter 19

The board breakfast wasn’t really breakfast at all.It was a courtroom that happened to serve croissants.Eight men, two women—all past sixty, all wearing suits that cost more than my mother’s hospital bills for an entire year. And at the far end of the long glass table sat Serena.She was already there when we walked in. White blazer, red lipstick, hair perfectly curled like she’d been up since five planning every detail of this moment. She smiled when she saw me. Then her eyes dropped to my wrist—to the bracelet—and the smile froze.Oliver’s hand brushed the small of my back for just a second. “You good?”I nodded. Sabr. Patience.Mrs. Vance Okoye wasn’t there yet. That was deliberate, I realized. She wanted me to walk in alone and take my seat without her.“Good morning,” Oliver said in that flat CEO voice of his. “Everyone knows Nadia.”“Of course,” said Mr. Henderson, the oldest one. He didn’t bother standing. “The contract bride. We read the statement.”The words hit like a slap

I couldn’t sleep.Every time I shut my eyes I saw his hand under the running water, and heard the way he said “sixty-six days” like the number itself hurt.At 12:47 I got up for water. The light in his office was still on.Oliver had fallen asleep at his desk. Reading glasses—ones I’d never seen before—were sliding down his nose. The contract lay open in front of him. My name appeared throughout the draft: Mrs. Nadia Okoye will continue to support the Westside Literacy Project.“Oliver,” I whispered.He jolted awake. “You came back—I mean, you’re up.”“You were waiting?”He yanked the glasses off, looking embarrassed. “You were quiet after the kitchen.”I had stayed quiet because I was trying not to fall for my contract husband at 6:47 p.m. over a kettle.He noticed me looking at the papers.“It’s stupid,” he said, and closed the folder. “We wrote it like you were a tenant. Party B will vacate with her personal belongings. You’re not—that isn’t you.”“Which rule did you break?”He bli

Rule #9 was working a little too well.Oliver’s hand stayed on the small of my back as we walked into his mother’s house. Light enough to look like it was just for show. Except his thumb kept making slow circles through my dress, and that definitely wasn’t in the contract.Serena was already sitting there. In my chair.White silk dress. Legs crossed. The exact lipstick shade Mrs. Chen always loved.“Oliver, you’re late,” Mrs. Chen said. “Serena was just telling me about the foundation gala. She remembered you take your coffee black, no sugar. Some people actually pay attention to the details.”I felt Oliver go rigid beside me.“Serena,” I said, smiling, “you’re in my seat.”She didn’t budge. Just looked me up and down—my plain blue dress, flat shoes, the red-thread bracelet Amara made me.“Oh, is there assigned seating now? I thought we were past primary school,” she laughed, glancing at Mrs. Chen for backup. “Oliver never liked clingy, Nadia. Didn’t he put that in your… contract?”Th

He drove with one hand the whole way. The other stayed locked over mine on the gear shift. Every time he needed to turn, his fingers would squeeze once, lift away, spin the wheel, then find their way right back like they already knew the path by heart. The blue beads of the bracelet he’d given me had gone warm between our palms. I could still feel the little dents they left in my skin.Click.He’d clicked his seatbelt twice when we got in the car. Not because it wasn’t already buckled—because his hand was shaking.“We have a garage, Mr. Okoye,” I said as the gates swung open.“If I park in the garage, the cameras catch us walking in,” he answered without looking at me. His voice stayed low. “I don’t want an audience for the next ten minutes.”“What happens in the next ten minutes?”That was when he finally looked at me. Really looked, the way he hadn’t been allowed to during three hours of smiling through a charity lunch.“You tell me why you said that thing about the time.”He didn’t