Taming My Silent Billionaire Contract Husband
I transmigrated into a novel as the cannon-fodder wife of Garrison Harvey, an ice-cold Wall Street billionaire.
According to the original plot, my fake best friend Adelaide was sitting across from me right now, secretly recording me complaining about my suffocating marriage.
That single audio clip breached my strict prenuptial agreement. Because of it, I was thrown out of the penthouse with absolutely nothing. I can still feel the freezing rain hitting my face and the rough concrete scraping my knees. I remember Garrison handing me the divorce papers without a single word or a second glance. And I remember Adelaide standing in the warm luxury lobby, smiling her perfectly contoured smile as she watched me freeze on the streets.
Until my last breath, my lungs burned with bitter injustice. Why did I let a fake friend manipulate me into giving up my wealth? Why did I expect romance from a mute, robotic CEO instead of just taking the money?
Blinking hard, the blurry cafe sharpened into focus. I was back.
Adelaide was leaning forward, her phone face-down with the red recording timer running, coaxing me to vent about my husband.
Instead of falling into her trap, I stretched my lips into a flawless, sickeningly sweet smile.
"Torture?" I said loudly, making sure the microphone caught every word. "I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Garrison is the most perfect husband in all of New York."
This time, I'm treating my icy contract husband like my ultimate VIP client, and that massive trust fund will be mine.
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Chapter 7
At 2:00 PM, a sleek black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the curb outside the Harvey Group headquarters on Wall Street.
Adelaide Collier stepped out of the back seat.
She was wearing a skin-tight, burgundy dress with a neckline that plunged dangerously low. Before stepping out of the car, she had sprayed herself three times with Tom Ford's Black Orchid-a heavy, suffocatingly sweet perfume.
Adelaide adjusted her designer sunglasses and marched toward the towering glass doors of the building.
She ignored the security desk in the main lobby. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she walked directly to the VIP elevator bank reserved for C-suite executives.
She pulled a temporary access card from her purse-a favor she had extracted from a mid-level VP she had briefly dated.
She swiped the card. The light turned green.
Adelaide stepped into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the top floor.
She looked at her reflection in the mirrored walls. She ran a hand down her waist, checking her curves. She smiled. A predatory, confident smile.
She was convinced that no man, not even the robotic Garrison Harvey, could resist a woman who threw herself at him. Especially when his own wife was a boring, complaining mess.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open on the executive floor.
The air up here was usually crisp, cold, and completely sterile.
The moment Adelaide stepped out, her heavy perfume rolled out into the hallway like a toxic cloud.
Morgan Shaw, Garrison's Chief Executive Assistant, was sitting at his desk outside the CEO's office. Morgan was a former military intelligence officer who treated his administrative job like a combat mission.
Morgan's nose twitched. He smelled the overwhelming scent of vanilla and dark spice.
He immediately stood up, his eyes locking onto Adelaide. His expression hardened into a wall of stone.
Adelaide ignored him. She strutted down the hallway, heading straight for the heavy double doors of Garrison's private office.
Inside the office, Garrison was staring at a glowing computer monitor.
He was deep in the flow state, analyzing a complex algorithm for a tech acquisition. He needed absolute silence and a completely controlled environment to function at this level.
Suddenly, a thick, sweet scent crept under the crack of his office door.
Garrison's nostrils flared.
The smell hit his brain like a physical blow. It was cloying. It was invasive.
Instantly, his body reacted. His chest seized up. The muscles in his neck pulled tight, triggering a sharp, blinding spike of pain behind his left eye.
It was a sensory overload. His trauma response flared, demanding immediate removal of the threat.
Garrison squeezed his eyes shut. He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his temples, trying to crush the pain. His breathing grew shallow and rapid.
He reached out blindly and slammed his fist down on the intercom button on his desk.
He didn't speak. He couldn't. But the intercom transmitted the harsh, ragged sound of his panicked breathing directly to Morgan's desk.
Outside the door, Morgan heard the breathing.
Morgan moved with terrifying speed. He stepped directly into Adelaide's path, blocking her just two feet away from Garrison's door.
Morgan raised his arm, creating a solid physical barrier.
"Halt," Morgan said. His voice was flat, cold, and completely devoid of emotion.
Adelaide stopped, glaring at the assistant.
"Excuse me," Adelaide said, putting a hand on her hip and pushing her chest forward. "I am Cassie Harvey's best friend. I have urgent personal business with Garrison. Move."
Morgan didn't even blink at her cleavage.
"Mr. Harvey is in a secure environment. He is not accepting visitors. You need to leave the floor immediately," Morgan stated, his tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.
Adelaide scoffed. She tried to step around him, deliberately brushing her shoulder against his arm, trying to use physical contact to intimidate him into moving.
Morgan stepped back, looking at his sleeve as if she had just wiped garbage on it.
He reached up and pressed the earpiece in his right ear.
"Security. Code Red on the executive floor. Immediate extraction required," Morgan said calmly into his lapel mic.
Adelaide's face dropped. The fake, seductive smile vanished, replaced by genuine shock and rising panic.
"Are you crazy?" Adelaide hissed, her voice shrill. "Do you know who I am? I will have Garrison fire you!"
The elevator doors pinged open.
Two massive security guards in dark suits stepped out. They moved silently and quickly down the hall. They flanked Adelaide, one on each side.
"Ma'am, please step toward the elevator," the guard on her left said, gesturing with a thick hand.
Morgan looked Adelaide dead in the eye.
"If you attempt to breach this floor again, the Harvey Group legal department will file a restraining order against you before you reach the lobby," Morgan warned, his voice like ice. "Escort her out."
Adelaide's face turned a violent shade of red. Humiliation burned in her chest.
She looked at the closed doors of Garrison's office, then at the two giant men ready to physically drag her away.
She spun around, her heels stomping furiously against the marble as she marched back to the elevator.
The doors closed behind her.
Morgan immediately turned to a passing janitorial staff member. "Bring the HEPA air purifiers to the hallway. Now. Scrub the air."
Inside the descending elevator, Adelaide was shaking with rage.
She pulled her phone out of her purse. She gripped it so tightly her knuckles cracked.
She had been humiliated. Thrown out like trash. And she blamed one person for this.
Cassie.
Cassie must have warned Garrison. Cassie must have poisoned him against her.
Adelaide's eyes narrowed with pure malice. She opened her messaging app and typed out a new text to Cassie.
Cassie, I'm so worried about you. I just saw Garrison at the office, and he wasn't alone. There was a blonde woman with him. They looked very close. You need to come down here and check on your husband before you lose everything.
Adelaide hit send. A vicious smile twisted her lips.
Let Cassie run down here and make a hysterical scene. Let Garrison see how unhinged his wife really was.
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9.3
They say you can't have it all. I'm about to prove them wrong-or destroy myself trying.
When my struggling mother married billionaire Richard Stone, I thought I was gaining a family. Instead, I found three stepbrothers who became my obsession, my downfall, and my salvation.
Dominic, the eldest, cold and commanding, who kisses me like he's claiming his kingdom and looks at me like I'm the only thing he can't control.
Julian, the charming playboy who hides a vulnerable soul beneath his perfect smile, making me feel like I'm the only woman he's ever truly seen.
Asher, the brooding artist who paints me like I'm his muse and touches me like I'm his masterpiece, seeing parts of my soul I didn't know existed.
They're forbidden. They're dangerous. They're everything I shouldn't want.
But when I discover my father didn't die by suicide that he was murdered by the very man who now calls himself my stepfather, these three powerful men becomes my unlikely allies.
First it was a forbidden attraction, now it's an arrangement that defies every rule.
The rules are simple:
I'll give each of them a chance.
I'll take everything they offer.
And in the end, I'll have to make the hardest decision of my life:
Choose one of them. Choose all of them. Or choose myself.
8.9
Ava Kidd just wanted to escape her abusive stepmother when she got drunk at a high-end club and stumbled into the wrong hotel room.
She woke up the next morning in a luxury penthouse, lying naked next to a terrifyingly handsome man covered in her scratch marks.
Recalling rumors of the hotel's secret underground concierge, she immediately assumed she had accidentally slept with an elite male escort.
Desperate to settle the bill, she offered him her only debit card with a pathetic $1,800.
But the man, who was actually Garrison Terry, the ruthless billionaire CEO, was deeply insulted by the cheap plastic.
He trapped her against the bed, coldly demanding a half-million-dollar service fee.
When Ava frantically offered her dead mother's tarnished locket as collateral, he cruelly dismissed it as worthless junk.
Ava was humiliated, her heart pounding with absolute terror.
She didn't understand why this arrogant gigolo was acting like a deranged extortionist, demanding a fortune from a broke girl who had clearly made a mistake.
Furious and refusing to cower, she sneaked out, put on his oversized designer shirt, and aggressively ate his $800 truffle breakfast.
Having no money left, she grabbed her cheap red lipstick, wrote a defiant IOU on his expensive linen napkin, and fled the hotel.
She thought she had escaped a criminal, but upstairs, the billionaire traced her lipstick-stained name with a predatory smile.
"Ava Kidd, I will absolutely find you."
7.1
After the one-night stand with a man who refused to tell her his name, Charlotte would figure out on TV that the man she had s*x with the previous night was the heir to a billionaire empire.
At the same time, Jace Norman-the infamous playboy heir-faces a public scandal that threatens his inheritance. To protect the family empire, his ruthless father forces him into an immediate contract marriage.
And just like that Charlotte would get married to the spoiled, reckless son of the most powerful billionaire in the city.
That One night, Room 55 and Five thousand dollars she desperately needed would change her life forever.
Weeks later, Charlotte discovers she's pregnant.
But before she can process the truth, her manipulative boyfriend claims the child is his and begins blackmailing her.
As their fake marriage becomes dangerously possessive, secrets begin to spiral. An ex-boyfriend demanding money. Jace's jealous college lover is determined to destroy Charlotte. Charlotte's sister is hiding betrayal behind sweet smiles. And a billionaire father who will eliminate anyone to protect the Norman name.
When a forged DNA test claims the baby isn't Jace's, the empire turns on Charlotte.
But the truth is far darker than any of them realize.
Because someone has been orchestrating every lie from the beginning.
And when Jace finally discovers the baby is his...
He will have to choose between his father's empire-
Or the woman carrying his heir.
8.1
I was a top-tier model with a fiancé I trusted to manage every cent I earned. I thought we were building a life together until a blown fuse at the studio sent me home twenty minutes early.
The silence of the penthouse was broken by a trail of clothes: Haywood’s silk tie, then a red-soled stiletto that belonged to Brandy, the girl I had mentored like a sister. Through the bedroom door, I watched the man I loved tell his mistress that I was "yesterday's news" while they tangled in the sheets I had picked out six months ago.
I didn't scream; I just turned to leave, but the betrayal went deeper than the bedroom. When I checked my banking app, my balance was exactly $12.45. Haywood had liquidated every holding account and savings entry I owned, using a "tax strategy" he’d convinced me of to steal my entire past.
Within hours, the man who robbed me was planting stories in the press, claiming I was having a drug-fueled breakdown. He wanted me penniless, homeless, and discredited so no one would believe the truth. He even tried to force me into a "rehab" facility to silence me forever while he promoted his pregnant mistress.
I stood on a New York curb with nothing left but a desperate, insane idea born from a headline on my phone. Isham Rhodes, the most ruthless CEO in the city, needed a wife by thirty to keep his empire, and I needed a shield to survive mine.
"Mr. Rhodes, I hear you need a puppet," I said, intercepting him in the rain outside City Hall. "I don't want your love. I want a legal document that makes me untouchable."
He didn't ask for a romance; he asked for my ID. Now, with a billionaire’s black card in my pocket and a marriage certificate in my hand, I’m going back to the agency to take back everything they stole. The war has just begun.
8.3
My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call.
While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora.
The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her.
Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress.
I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me.
They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator.
9.4
For three years Sarah Miller was the invisible wife of billionaire Jason Vanguard. She cooked his meals. She cleaned his home. She hid her identity as the heiress to the world's wealthiest empire just to prove her love. Jason rewarded her sacrifice with coldness and public humiliation. On their third anniversary he bought a diamond necklace for his childhood friend while Sarah waited home alone.
That was the final straw.
Sarah signed the divorce papers and walked away with nothing but her pride. When she returned to the Miller Group as its powerful new CEO. the world gasped. Jason assumed his "poor" ex-wife would beg to come back. Instead he found himself facing a cold queen in the boardroom who didn't even remember his name.
Now Jason is desperate to win back the woman he threw away. But Sarah is no longer the silent wife who waits for him. She is the rival who can destroy him.