Contract Marriage With — The Devil Billionaire

“Yes,” Dorian replied, not looking at her. “I did.”

It was the night he found her crying in the laundry room.

She didn’t thank him. Not in words. Instead, she started leaving things for him: a book she thought he’d like (he read it in one night, though he never admitted it), a cup of coffee at exactly the temperature he preferred (she’d watched the barista make it enough times), a single fresh peony on his desk every Monday morning. contract marriage with the devil billionaire

Their honeymoon was a press conference.

He didn’t move. Instead, he did something that broke every rule in his own contract. He sat down on the floor beside her—a man who had never sat on a floor in his adult life, probably—and pulled out his phone. “Yes,” Dorian replied, not looking at her

Lena had gotten the call an hour ago. Her brother, Leo, had gone into surgery three days early—complications. She wasn’t there. She was in a penthouse wearing designer pajamas she hadn’t chosen, married to a man who paid her like an invoice. The tears came hot and silent, her face buried in a towel that cost more than her first car.

“And if I say no?”

“Don’t,” he said. Just that.