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Taming My Silent Billionaire Contract Husband Novel Cover

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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