Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 112

Chapter 112

Chapter 112

VENUS

55 vouchers

The rain kept ticking at the windows like a metronome gone mad. I sat propped against the pillows, wrists sore from their weight against the mattress, heart slow but loud, like it was pacing inside a cage. Minutes passed. Hours, maybe. Or seconds. Time was unreliable here, bending under the weight of silence.

Then I heard it.

The creak.

Not from the hall. Not faint or distant. No, this was right outside the door. purposeful and heavy.

He was back.

The doorknob turned with ceremonial slowness, like he wanted me to hear it, to anticipate him. And I did. Not with fear. Not anymore. With precision. With restraint. I had learned the rhythm of his delusion, and I was learning how to weaponize

The door opened.

Gerald stepped in like a scene rehearsed. Pressed shirt. Bare feet A tray in his hands, covered in a silver lid. Steam rising. Always a production with him.

“You’re awake,” he said with that voice-too calm, too pleased.

I didn’t speak.

His eyes swept over me, checking. Not in a concerned way, no, it was inventory. He looked like he was making sure nothing had cracked or broken. Like I was his favorite porcelain doll.

He set the tray on the small table near the window. Then he came closer.

“You should eat something, Venus. You’ve barely touched the food I brought yesterday. Or the day before.”

I didn’t look at him. Didn’t grant him the dignity of a reaction.

He sighed. It was theatrical, like everything else. Then he crouched beside the bed, his voice soft. Too soft.

“Venus. Look at me.”

I didn’t.

His hand moved to my chin, and I flinched.

Just a fraction. But he saw it and savored it.

“You’re being difficult again,” he murmured, as if scolding a stubborn child. “We talked about this. You said you wanted peace.”

“I never said that.”

My voice came out raw, cracked. I hadn’t used it in hours. May days.

He smiled. Like it was progress.

“See? Speaking already. That’s good.”

1/5

55 vouchers

Chapter 112

“Let me go.”

His expression tightened. Just a flicker. Then he rose to his feet and began pacing the room.

“You know I can’t do that. Not yet. Not until you understand. Unil you see this for what it is.”

“A kidnapping?

He turned, sharply. “A reunion.”

My laugh was bitter. Short. “A reunion requires consent, Gerald

His eyes flared. Just for a second. But it was enough.

He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed my arm. Not hard enough to bruise-yet-but hard enough to make a point.

“Don’t twist this,” he hissed. “I’ve done everything for you. Everything. And you repay me with silence? With mockery?”

“You think this is love?”

He yanked away from me, like my skin had burned him. Then,lence. Thick. Bruising.

He walked back to the tray. Lifted the lid. Steam rose from a plate of pasta and grilled chicken. He poured a glass of water with care, like we were at a dinner party.

Then he turned back to me and set the tray on my lap.

“Eat.”

I didn’t move.

He crouched again.

“Don’t make me ask twice. You’re smarter than this. Don’t let your pride starve you.”

I stared at the food.

He waited.

Then I picked up the fork and took a bite. One. Two.

He smiled.

“Good girl.”

My stomach churned, but I kept chewing.

This was the pattern.

gder m

www

www

200

W

He’d bring food. Try kindness. When I refused to engage, he’d lash out-sharp, fast, terrifying. Then he’d backpedal. Apologize. Offer me something: music, a book, a comb for my hair.

The cycle repeated.

Day after day.

Always the same order:

2/5

21:02 Wed, Jan 7

Chapter 112

Soft entrance, One-sided conversation. The request. My refusal The fury. The apology. The offering.

I became fluent in his madness.

Each day, he’d ask me to do something.

One day: “Tell me you missed me.”

The next: “Wear the dress I picked for you.”

Then: “Kiss me. Just once.”

I refused each time.

And each time, he punished me. Not with violence. Not with brises.

No, Gerald was more sophisticated than that.

He took away light.

He took away the books.

He left me in silence for hours.

15%

255 vouchers

He played old voicemails from my phone on a loop-I don’t know how he got them-just loud enough to make sure I heard them. Aaron’s voice. Sabine’s. Gianna’s. Connor’s. Just Ough to slice me apart and then vanish into the dark.

Then he’d return.

And try to put me back together.

Like I was a puzzle he alone understood.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he whispered one night, brushing a stray hair from my face. “I just want you to love me. You’re the one turning this into war.”

My voice was barely audible.

“It was war the moment you took

away my choice.”

He didn’t reply.

Just stood and walked to the door.

“I’ll bring you tea,” he said, as if I hadn’t just gutted him.

And he did.

Chamomile.

Always chamomile.

The days blurred. I began marking time by the patterns of his madness.

Three soft days. One hard one. Then the switch.

It was like a dance. A sick one. And I learned the steps.

I smiled when he entered. I said thank you. I played docile.

3/5

21:02 Wed, Jan 7 a

Chapter 112.

And in secret, I mapped every inch of the room.

*

15%

55 vouchers

I cataloged objects: the brass curtain rod (loose on the left), the day (heavy enough to injure), the glass (breakable).

I noted his routine: which side he favored, how long he’s usually gone, what songs he played when he thought I was asleep.

What I still didn’t know was where the keys to the cuffs were. The windows had railings and the door…. I’ve never left this room since I got here.

Every piece of his world became a weapon.

I let him believe I was softening.

That I was folding.

That I was his.

And he bought it.

God help him, he believed it.

Because Gerald was many things-calculated, obsessive, even charming in a sociopathic way.

But above all else?

He was arrogant.

He thought he had already won.

He thought I was already broken.

But I wasn’t broken.

I was biding.

Every day, I grew quieter. Not because I was afraid.

But because I was sharpening.

Because I had made a decision.

He would not get my love.

He would not get my surrender.

But he would get something else.

He would get exactly what he deserved.

And when that day came-when his guard slipped, when the pattern broke, when the rhythm cracked-I would be ready.

He would never see it coming.

Because predators, for all their cunning, always forget one thing

Caged things don’t stay caged forever.

They learn.

4/5