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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 9

Cassie grabbed a crisp leaf of lettuce. She smeared a thick dollop of spicy gochujang paste on it, dropped a piece of perfectly charred Wagyu beef in the center, and added a slice of raw garlic.

She folded it up and shoved the entire thing into her mouth.

She closed her eyes and chewed. The explosion of fat, spice, and salt was euphoric.

As she reached for her chopsticks to grab another piece of meat, the heavy glass door of the restaurant was shoved open.

A loud, grating voice pierced through the K-pop music.

"Ugh, it smells like cheap grease in here! My hair is going to be ruined."

Cassie opened her eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a woman wearing a massive, obnoxious pink fur coat. She was clutching a brand-new, bright yellow Chanel flap bag like it was a shield.

It was Brenda Sutkowski. Cassie's distant cousin.

Brenda was a desperate social climber who spent her life trying to pretend she belonged to the old-money elite.

Brenda had been scrolling through Instagram in her Uber when she saw it: a story from one of Cassie's few work friends, tagging the K-BBQ restaurant just ten minutes ago. A vicious smile had spread across Brenda's face.

Now, Brenda's sharp, heavily lined eyes scanned the crowded room, looking for her target. Her gaze immediately locked onto Cassie sitting alone by the window.

Brenda's eyes lit up with malicious excitement.

She stomped across the restaurant in her six-inch Louboutins, ignoring the annoyed looks from the diners she bumped into.

Cassie saw the pink fur approaching out of the corner of her eye. She let out a quiet sigh. Great. The trash is delivering itself today.

Brenda didn't wait for an invitation. She grabbed the chair opposite Cassie, pulled it out with a loud screech against the floor, and dropped into it.

She slammed her yellow Chanel bag onto the table, making sure the interlocking C logo was facing Cassie.

"Oh my god, Cassie!" Brenda practically yelled, making sure the tables next to them could hear. "Is that really you? What is the esteemed Mrs. Harvey doing eating alone in a place like this? Did Garrison cut off your allowance?"

Several people at the neighboring tables turned their heads, their eyes wide with sudden gossip.

Cassie didn't stop chewing.

She swallowed the meat, picked up a paper napkin, and dabbed the corners of her mouth. Her movements were slow, elegant, and completely unbothered.

She looked at Brenda's flushed, eager face.

"Hello, Brenda," Cassie said, her voice flat and bored. "It's been a while."

Cassie picked up her metal tongs and calmly flipped a piece of pork belly on the grill.

Brenda frowned. She expected Cassie to look embarrassed or defensive. Cassie's total lack of reaction felt like an insult.

Brenda leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. She deliberately pushed her sleeve up to reveal a thick Van Cleef & Arpels diamond bracelet.

"I just got back from the Hamptons," Brenda bragged loudly. "We rented a massive oceanfront estate. It was exhausting, honestly. The staff was so slow. But you know how hard it is to find good help these days."

Cassie kept her eyes on the grilling meat.

In her mind, she recalled the novel's plot. Brenda's trust fund was tied up in a massive Ponzi scheme that was going to collapse in exactly three weeks. Brenda was currently broke and living on credit cards.

"That sounds nice," Cassie said dismissively. She raised her hand and caught the waiter's eye. "Excuse me, can I get another side of kimchi?"

Brenda's face tightened. Her bragging had bounced right off Cassie.

Brenda decided to go for the throat. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice into a fake, pitying whisper.

"Seriously, Cassie, everyone in our circle is talking," Brenda hissed. "They say Garrison is a total freak. A mute robot. You're sitting here eating cheap meat all by yourself. Has he frozen you out completely?"

Cassie's hand stopped moving.

She slowly lowered the metal tongs to the table.

She lifted her eyes and locked her gaze onto Brenda's face.

Cassie didn't cry. She didn't scream. She looked at Brenda with the cold, dead-eyed stare of someone examining a squashed bug on the sidewalk.

Cassie leaned slightly forward.

"Garrison doesn't speak because he doesn't like wasting his breath on useless garbage," Cassie said. Her voice was quiet, but every syllable was sharp as a razor blade. "Unlike some people, who never know when to shut their mouths."

Brenda recoiled as if Cassie had just slapped her across the face.

Her mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. Her face turned a blotchy, furious red.

"You... you stuck-up bitch!" Brenda shrieked, losing all pretense of high society. She pointed a shaking finger at Cassie. "You think you're so untouchable! You're nothing! The Harveys are going to throw you out on the street, and I'm going to laugh!"

Cassie didn't even blink.

She picked up her glass of ice water, took a slow sip, and set it down.

"Are you done?" Cassie asked coldly. "Because you're ruining my appetite. Leave."

Brenda let out a sound of pure, frustrated rage.

She snatched her Chanel bag off the table so hard she almost knocked over a plate of garlic. She spun around to storm away.

But in her blind anger, Brenda forgot about the grease on the floor.

Her six-inch stiletto hit a slick patch of oil near the table leg.

Brenda's foot shot out from under her. She let out a sharp yelp, her arms flailing wildly. She barely managed to catch herself on a nearby chair, avoiding a full face-plant into the floor.

A wave of muffled laughter rippled through the restaurant.

Brenda's face burned purple with humiliation. She didn't look back. She practically ran toward the exit, her pink fur coat bouncing ridiculously as she fled.

Cassie watched her go. She slowly shook her head.

Amateur, Cassie thought.

The waiter arrived and nervously placed the fresh bowl of kimchi on the table.

"Thank you," Cassie smiled warmly at the waiter.

She picked up her chopsticks and went right back to eating. She felt fantastic. The trash had taken itself out.

But Cassie didn't know that she wasn't the only one watching Brenda's humiliating exit.

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