Semua Bab THE CEO'S CONTRACT WIFE: I didn't fall for him...Until I did: Bab 11 - Bab 20

“The pregnancy...”The word hung between us like glass. Michael set his whiskey down. Slow. “What about it.”His voice was dead. I could hear my own heartbeat in the silence.“It wasn’t real.”He blinked. Once. “Don’t joke about that.”“I’m not joking.” Tears were already falling. “Michael, we planned it. Month 8 miscarriage. The bump, the photos, the doctor’s note. All of it. It was fake.”He stared at me. Then he laughed. Not a real laugh. The ugly kind.“Right. Because that’s funny. Because I’ve been crying for 3 days over nothing.”“I’m so sorry—”“SHUT UP!” The glass shattered against the wall. Whiskey ran down like blood.He stood. Pacing. Hands in his hair. “You let me... You let me hold you in that hospital. You let me think I killed—” He couldn’t finish. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” I sobbed. “You were breaking. And Khabo— and the company— I thought if I told you, you’d hate me.”He stopped pacing. Turned to me. “I do hate you.”The words cut deeper than the

Voss Architects, Cape Town :The nameplate on my desk felt fake. Palesa Mokhosi - Junior Architect I ran my thumb over the letters. R25,000 a month. Medical aid. Lunch stipend. Real shit. I called Michael the second I sat down. My hands were shaking. He picked up on the third ring. Background noise. Car horns.“Hey. You made it?” His voice was tight.“Yeah. I’m at my desk.” I laughed, but it came out wrong. “How’s Maseru?”There was a pause and it became too long.“Good,” he said. “Michael.”He sighed. I heard him pull over. “Khabo froze everything, Palesa, ll of it. The accounts. Mom’s medical fund. Even the flat’s electricity account.” His voice cracked on the last part. “He’s claiming it was Thorne Holdings assets. Used for personal purposes.”The floor dropped out from under me. “What? But that was your inheritance—”“It’s gone.” Another car honked. “I gotta go. Got an Uber pickup in 5. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”“Michael—” He hung up.That night he didn’t call.

MASERU HIGH COURT - MORNING The courtroom smelled like sweat and old wood. I tugged at my collar. The suit was Michael Thorne’s. Past tense. “All rise!” Judge Moloi walked in. Didn’t look at me. “My lord,” my lawyer Mr. Nkosi stood. “We request the immediate unfreezing of my client’s personal accounts. The freeze was unlawful—” The judge raised a hand. “Mr. Nkosi. Did your client sign Exhibit B?” Nkosi flipped pages. Too fast. He slid a paper to me. “Michael. Was this your signature?” I looked. My blood went cold. Thorne Holdings Asset Transfer. Dated 3 years ago. My signature. Big and stupid at the bottom. “That’s for the subsidiary,” I said, voice rough. “Not my personal—” “Your honor,” Nkosi cut in, sweating. “We submit that this exhibit refers to—” The judge slammed the gavel. “Mr. Nkosi. You filed the wrong document.” She stared at me. “Motion denied. Accounts remain frozen. Next case.” BANG. Outside, I grabbed Nkosi’s arm. “What th

He crossed the room in 3 steps. Didn’t care who was watching. He took my face in his hands. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t here.” I started crying. “I’m okay. The baby’s okay.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “I got the company back,” he said against my skin. “I won. We did it babe.” I pulled back. “What?” “I won. Thorne Holdings is ours again.” "When?" He tried to smile. It looked like it hurt. “I was coming to tell you. To bring you home. It happened this morning." Before I could answer, David stepped forward. “Mr. Thorne. You need to leave. She needs rest.” Michael looked up. Really looked at David for the first time. At his suit. At the way he was standing too close to my bed. “And you are?” “David Voss. I’m her boss.” Michael stood up. Slowly. “Boss,” he repeated. He looked at the jacket on my chair. David’s. At the coffee on the side table. David’s brand. “Thank you,” Michael said. Voice flat. “For taking care of my WI

POV: MICHAELThe text had said "guest room." Of course it did. I didn’t grab a weapon. I should have. But my hands were shaking too badly. Palesa’s voice came from behind me: “Michael, wait.” “I’m not waiting,” I said without turning. “Not this time.” The hallway was dark. Only the emergency light from the kitchen glowed. My penthouse. My fortress. And someone was inside. I reached the guest room door. It was closed. I could hear it. Breathing. Slow. Measured. My fist hovered over the knob. Then Palesa’s hand covered mine. “Don’t,” she whispered. “What if it’s Tasha? What if it’s—” “What if it’s someone who wants to hurt you?” I cut her off and turned to her. “I’m not losing you again. Not in my own house.” She looked scared. But she nodded. “Together then,” she said. “Together.” I pushed the door open. It was empty. Bed made. Curtains closed. It smelled like bleach and something else. Something sweet. Perfume. Palesa flipped the light on. And we saw it. On the bed: