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My Billionaire's Weird Love Novel Cover

My Billionaire's Weird Love

"We both know this match is not our will. For that reason, I'm offering you a contract." My eyes widened in shock at Harrison's words-an open proposal from a man I had only met for the first time. What the average family could never pull off happened effortlessly among the right people. I scanned through the printed agreement in my hands. No interference in each other's personal lives Absolute confidentiality of the marriage contract, agreed upon by both parties The marriage shall last a minimum of two years. If separation is still difficult to implement after that period, the contract may be extended until circumstances permit otherwise Some of the clauses were... interesting. A contract like this wasn't natural for a couple about to get married. But strangely, it made me feel more prepared than blindly stepping into the unknown as a member of the Marcus family. "I deliberately left the last page blank," Harrison said calmly, tapping the paper with his finger. "Please write your conditions." His assistant smoothly placed a ballpoint pen into my hand. I didn't hesitate. Respect both families as one No physical contact Separate bedrooms I've always preferred being alone. I've never had a boyfriend-and I never cared to. Unfortunately, my sister did. She was in love, yet she had been betrothed to a billionaire's son she was now being forced to marry. I pitied her. So I made a decision that changed everything. I replaced her. Harrison Marcus, the billionaire's son, didn't want to marry a stranger either. So he proposed a contract-to me. Helping my sister. A marriage without love. A deal that would end in divorce. Or so we thought. Two years later, we planned to file for divorce and walk away like strangers. But contracts don't account for feelings... and neither did we.
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Chapter 7

The engine of the white luxury sedan hummed with a suppressed power that mirrored the tension inside the cabin. Steven glanced at the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed. His boss, Harrison Marcus, was leaning against the leather seat, his eyes fixed on his phone with a focus that wasn't reserved for business.

"You shouldn't be heading home so soon," Steven said, his voice tight. "Don't you remember the schedule? We have the final wedding dress fitting at Dede James’s boutique in forty minutes. Your grandmother has already checked in twice."

"Reschedule it," Harrison replied without looking up. "I have an important matter to attend to. A personal one."

"Important?" Steven’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. "We cleared the entire afternoon. There are no meetings, Harrison. What could possibly be more important than the public face of the Marcus Group?"

"I need to speak with Tania," Harrison said, his voice final. "She’s been waiting for me since this morning. The fitting can wait. Caroline isn't going anywhere."

Steven felt a surge of genuine anger. He wasn’t just an assistant; he was the person paid to keep the Marcus legacy from eroding. He knew about Tania. She was a high school friend, a ghost from Harrison’s past that the Marcus family—specifically Williams Marcus—wanted buried. The rumors of their continued closeness were already circulating in the elite circles of Havenport, and if they reached the old man’s ears, the consequences would be catastrophic.

"I’m sorry, my friend," Steven said, his voice dropping into a firm, serious register. "I am paid by your family to ensure this transition is flawless. I have helped you hide many things, but I cannot help you ruin this. Not today."

"What are you doing?" Harrison asked as Steven began to slow the car.

"I'm finishing my work." Steven pulled the car over to a quiet, tree-lined curb on the outskirts of the university district. He put the car in park and stepped out, opening the rear door for Harrison.

"What is this? Are you seriously stranding me?" Harrison stood up, his blue eyes flashing with disbelief.

"You can't fire me, Harrison, but your grandfather can erase me," Steven said, a fake, chillingly professional smile appearing on his face. "If you want to see Tania, you can find your own way. But I am going to pick up your fiancé and take her to her fitting. Because that is the job."

"Steven, wait—"

"I suggest you don't use a Marcus driver to pick you up from here," Steven added, narrowing his eyes. "Unless you want the report to reach your mother before sunset. Good luck, Harrison."

Steven climbed back into the driver’s seat and sped away, leaving the heir to the Marcus fortune standing on a Havenport sidewalk, looking more like a lost boy than a titan of industry.

Back at Scripted Hearts, the digital sensor at the door chimed as Steven entered. He walked in to find the shop floor empty, but the sound of heated voices drifted down from the second floor. He climbed the stairs quietly, pausing at the landing.

Caroline’s team was in the middle of a full-scale interrogation.

"Are you pregnant? Be honest," Daniel asked, his voice echoing in the creative studio.

"How could she be pregnant?" Lily snapped. "Caroline is the most moral person I know. She doesn't even have a boyfriend."

"I told you guys a thousand times!" Caroline’s voice was strained, hitting that high-pitched note she reached when she was overwhelmed. "I’m not pregnant. It’s an arrangement! A family deal!"

"Arranged to a guy who looks like a movie star?" Lily countered, her oriental features sharp with curiosity. "Who could refuse that? If a man like that tells you to marry him, you don't say 'no,' you say 'what time?'"

"It’s not about being happy, Lily," Maya intervened, her voice the only one that sounded grounded. "It’s about duty. Caroline is doing what she has to do."

"Can you guys just stop?" Caroline pleaded. "I have a mountain of paper to cut and—"

She froze as her eyes met Steven’s. He was leaning against the doorframe, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Is he the one?" Daniel asked, pointing at Steven with a clumsy, defensive gesture.

"That’s the assistant, you idiot," Lily whispered, elbowing him.

"I’m sorry to interrupt the... staff meeting," Steven said, stepping into the room. "But Caroline, we have a dress fitting. And we are already ten minutes behind."

Caroline sighed, grabbing her bag. "Right. The schedule."

"Are you going alone?" Daniel asked, standing up. He looked at Steven with a deep-seated suspicion. "Where’s the blue-eyed guy? The boss?"

"He had a scheduling conflict," Steven said smoothly.

"I’m going too," Daniel announced.

"Daniel, no," Caroline warned. "This is a private boutique."

"A man and a woman going alone to a dress fitting isn't proper," Daniel said, searching desperately for a reason to stay by her side. "I’ll be your... secondary assistant. I need to see the 'concept' for the invitation anyway."

Before Steven could protest, Daniel had already pushed past him and was heading for the stairs. "Assistant! Unlock the car!"

Steven looked at Caroline. She gave him a look of pure apology. "He’s stubborn. If we don't let him come, he’ll probably follow us on a bicycle."

The boutique of Dede James was a sanctuary of ivory silk and hushed whispers. It was the kind of place where the air itself felt expensive. Dede James was a legend in Havenport—a man with an LV scarf permanently draped around his neck and a client list that included every socialite from here to London.

When they entered, Dede rushed forward, his eyes lighting up as they landed on Daniel, who was wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans.

"Oh! Mr. Marcus! At last!" Dede cried, throwing his arms around a very confused Daniel. "You are taller than the photos, and much more... rugged!"

Caroline had to bite her lip to keep from erupting into laughter. Daniel stood stiffly in the designer’s embrace, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

"Sorry, Dede," Steven intervened, gently detaching the designer. "This is Daniel, a friend of the family. Mr. Harrison is delayed. This is the bride-to-be, Miss Caroline Hale."

Dede’s gaze shifted to Caroline, and his professional mask settled back into place. "Ah, the girl of the hour. Come, come. We have much to do, and very little time to make you look like a Marcus."

They were ushered to the VVIP suite on the second floor—a room of plush velvet sofas and mirrors that seemed to stretch into infinity. Caroline was led away to the dressing rooms while Steven and Daniel were served espresso by a silent, elegant attendant.

After twenty minutes, the curtains swept open.

Caroline stepped out in the first dress—the one she had chosen. it was simple, a white A-line with a single ribbon at the back and minimal beading. It was beautiful, but in the vast, gilded room, it looked plain.

Dede James furrowed his brow. "It is a lovely dress for a gardener’s wedding, Miss Caroline. But for the Marcus gala? You would be invisible. Let us try the 'Imperial' line."

The second transformation took longer. When the curtains opened again, the room went silent.

The dress was a masterpiece of intricate brocade. It had a high, regal neckline of sheer lace that extended down her arms, but the bodice was structured, revealing a hint of the transformation Mia had hinted at during the makeup session. The skirt was a voluminous cloud of silk that seemed to float as she moved. She looked like a princess emerging from a winter frost.

Steven stood up, his phone out, frantically taking photos. "Grandma is going to love this," he muttered.

Daniel, however, didn't move. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his heart visibly sinking. Seeing Caroline in that dress made the reality of the situation hit him like a physical weight. She wasn't just his friend or his business partner anymore. She was being polished into a diamond that would be set in a crown he could never touch.

"You look..." Daniel started, then stopped. "You look like you’re leaving us, Caroline."

Caroline looked at him in the mirror. "It’s just a dress, Daniel."

"It’s not," he whispered. "It’s a uniform."

Steven’s phone buzzed—a sharp, insistent ring. His face went pale. "Grandma is asking for a video call. Now. Where is Harrison?"

He stepped away, his voice hushed and panicked. "Harrison, you have to get here! I don't care if you’re eating with the Queen! Grandma is in the WhatsApp group, and she’s asking for a live feed!"

Ten minutes later, the door to the suite burst open. Harrison Marcus strode in, looking disheveled and out of breath. He was followed by a woman—graceful, blonde, and looking entirely out of place in a wedding boutique. Tania.

Steven’s eyes widened. "Why did you bring her here?"

"I used her car," Harrison hissed, adjusting his tuxedo jacket. He had apparently changed in the car. "I didn't have a choice."

"You're giving me a migraine," Steven groaned.

Tania sat on the sofa next to a glowering Daniel, while Harrison stepped onto the pedestal next to Caroline. He was a vision in black wool and silk, the perfect counterpoint to her white lace.

Dede James was in heaven, fluttering around them, adjusting the hem of the dress and the lapel of the tuxedo. "Perfect! The height, the symmetry! You look like a painting!"

As the cameras clicked, Caroline felt the old familiar vertigo. The salesperson had forced her into four-inch heels to "complete the silhouette." Her feet were screaming, and the weight of the dress felt like it was dragging her down.

"Smile, Caroline," Harrison whispered through gritted teeth. "Grandma is watching."

"I’m trying," she hissed back. "I can’t feel my toes."

The photoshoot was grueling. Harrison had to hold her shoulder several times to keep her upright as the designer demanded "more emotion" and "closer proximity."

The climax came when Dede asked Caroline to step forward and turn. As she moved, one of her heels caught the heavy silk of her own train. Her balance vanished.

"Caroline!" Daniel shouted, leaping from the sofa before anyone else could react.

He caught her mid-air, his arms wrapping around her waist as she tumbled off the pedestal. For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Daniel held her close, his face inches from hers, his concern raw and unfiltered.

Harrison, who had been standing right beside her, stood frozen for a second too long. When he finally reached out, Daniel had already secured her.

Harrison’s face turned a dark, dangerous shade of red—not from concern, but from a sudden, sharp sting of possessive jealousy. He looked at Daniel, then at Caroline, then back at the silent Tania on the sofa.

"I’ve got her," Daniel said, his voice low and challenging. "You can go back to your 'other' meeting now."

Harrison steeled himself, stepping forward to take Caroline from Daniel’s arms. "I’ll take her from here. She’s my fiancé."

The word felt like a lie, but as he gripped Caroline’s arm, Harrison realized that for the first time, he didn't want the contract to be the only thing holding them together. He looked at the high heels discarded on the floor—a threat to her safety, and a symbol of the world he was forcing her to walk in.

"Get her some flats," Harrison commanded the shop assistant, his voice echoing in the plush room. "I don't care how it looks in the photo. I won't have her falling again."

As Caroline sat down, her breath returning, she looked at the three men in the room: Steven, the keeper of the schedule; Daniel, the friend who had caught her; and Harrison, the man who was finally, painfully, realizing that he might actually care if she fell.

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