Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 169

Chapter 169

THIRD PERSON POV

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The city looked different from this side of it. Not the glass and marble of uptown, not the prim, manicured blocks where doormen tipped their hats and women carried little dogs in designer bags. No, here the air tasted of rust and rain-soaked asphalt. The buildings sagged inward, windows boarded or spiderwebbed with cracks, the kind of places rats claimed long before tenants.

Caroline hated it. Every second. Every step that scuffed grime onto her heels. And all of it-every single miserable turn that had landed her in this rotting corner of the world-she laid at Aaron Sinclair’s feet.

She tugged the hood lower, the black fabric casting shadows over her face, and adjusted the mask until it pinched her nose. God forbid someone recognized her. Not here, not now.

Her voice broke inside her head, venom wrapped in silk.

Damn you, Aaron. Damn you for ruining everything I built. Damn you for stealing what should have been Dorian’s. For taking Richard’s pride, for making him look at me like I’m nothing but a burden. Damn you for making me crawl through filth like this.

She walked faster, clutching her purse to her ribs. The weight inside wasn’t lipstick or powder compact tonight. It was cold, heavy, steel-a gun. Her insurance. Her promise.

The streets narrowed as she pressed deeper into the maze of decaying tenements. The night was damp, the kind of damp that curled hair and settled in the bones. A neon sign flickered at the corner, its light cutting through fog like a knife. She cursed again under her breath, though the words barely slipped past clenched teeth.

It should have been easy. Dorian should have fought harder, should have taken back what belonged to him. My son, my legacy. And Richard? That fool watches me unravel and does nothing. Nothing. His eyes drift back to Rosemary Carter-her. Always her.

The thought made Caroline’s vision blur with heat. Rosemary, with her polished laugh, her effortless charm, her ability to command a room without even trying. Rosemary, who had never needed to scheme, who had always been handed the crown while Caroline clawed in shadows.

And now? Richard’s gaze lingered on his ex-wife anywhere he saw her, softer than it had ever been with Caroline. Softer than it had been in years.

Caroline had noticed. Oh yes, she had noticed.

So she decided: if she couldn’t keep Richard’s gaze, if her son couldn’t win back his pride, then she would rip Rosemary’s heart out the only way left. Through her son. Through Aaron Sinclair.

A smile, thin and cruel, crept under the mask. Retribution had knocked once before-on her phone, a week ago. A message, unknown number, promising her exactly what she craved.

You want Sinclair ruined? Meet me. I can give you what you want. Retribution. Power. Blood.

Stupid? Yes. Reckless? Absolutely. But the taste of desperation was sharper than fear. Caroline would do

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Chapter 169

anything, anything, to see Aaron fall.

She tightened her grip on the purse.

:..

Let him burn. Let him suffer. Let Rosemary watch her golden boy bleed out.

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The address in the message had led her here, to a building that sagged against the others like a drunk who’d lost his fight. Its bricks were mottled with soot, the door chipped and scarred. She hesitated only a second before lifting her hand and knocking.

The sound echoed down the darkened corridor.

One heartbeat. Two.

Then it opened.

And the face that appeared made the bottom of Caroline’s stomach lurch.

She knew him instantly. The papers had printed his face once, blurred and shadowed, but she had memorized it. The whispers around Aaron’s hunt, the name spoken in dark corners-Gerald.

The man who had kidnapped Venus.

The man who had killed Martha Astor.

The man Aaron had sworn to destroy.

And here he was, flesh and blood, standing in the doorway like he’d been waiting for her all along.

“Well,” Gerald said, voice smooth as oil. “The lady of the house herself. Caroline Sinclair.”

Her pulse stuttered, but she didn’t falter. She lifted her chin, tugged the mask down just enough for him to see the hard line of her mouth. “You know who I am.”

“Of course.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Your little message intrigued me. Said you wanted Sinclair to suffer. Which Sinclair, though? There are so many.”

Her lips curled. “Aaron.” The word snapped like a whip. “I want Aaron broken. I want him crawling. I want him ruined beyond repair.”

Gerald’s gaze flickered, interest sharpening. He opened the door wider. “Then come in.”

The apartment stank of cigarettes and mold. The walls were yellowed, the curtains torn. A table sat in the center, scattered with papers, maps, weapons. Pictures, pictures of Venus. Caroline’s stomach twisted, but she walked inside, heels clicking against the warped floorboards.

Gerald closed the door behind her with a thud that sounded too final.

“You’ve got guts,” he said, circling her like a predator. “Most women like you wouldn’t last five minutes down

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Chapter 169

here. But then again, desperation makes people bold.”

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“I’m not desperate,” Caroline shot back, though the lie tasted bitter. “I’m furious. Aaron thinks he can humiliate me, strip Dorian of what’s his, turn Richard into a ghost in his own home. He thinks he’s untouchable.”

Gerald leaned against the table, smirking. “And you want to touch him. With bullets, I assume?”

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Her hand slid into her purse, brushing the gun’s cold grip. “If I have to. But I’m not a fool, I know I can’t take him down alone. You, though…” She gestured at the maps, the weapons. “You’ve been circling him for

months.”

His grin widened, sharklike. “That’s true.”

“And you’ve failed,” she added sharply, her eyes narrowing. “You took his woman once, but she lived. You killed Martha Astor, but that only made him hungrier. You haven’t finished the job.”

Gerald’s eyes darkened, but he chuckled low, dangerous. “Careful, Caroline. You’re walking on glass.”

She didn’t flinch. “I’m here to help you finish it. I want him gutted where it hurts most. And we both know what that means.”

Silence stretched. Then, slowly, Gerald’s smirk sharpened. “Venus.”

The name hung between them, electric, poisonous. Caroline felt her pulse quicken, a thrill of satisfaction curling in her belly.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Venus. She’s the crown jewel in his empire of control. You want to watch a man unravel? Don’t aim at him. Aim at what he’d burn the world to protect.”

Gerald pushed off the table, pacing closer until his breath brushed her cheek. “And you’d kill her? Your precious daughter-in-law?”

“She’s not my anything,” Caroline hissed. “She’s Rosemary’s by proxy. Rosemary adores her, Aaron worships her. Taking Venus is taking them both.”

For the first time, Gerald laughed. A real laugh, low and jagged. “You’re colder than I thought. I like it.”

Her chin lifted higher. “So? Do we have an understanding?”

He studied her, gaze flicking to the purse where the gun sat, then back to her face. Finally, he nodded.

“We’ll make Aaron Sinclair suffer,” Gerald said, voice like smoke curling through fire. “We’ll make him watch his world collapse piece by piece. I’ll finish what I wasn’t able to accomplish the first time. I’ll kill her.”

Caroline’s lips parted, breath sharp. The words were real now, etched in stone.

Kill her. Kill Venus.

For a heartbeat, the enormity of it pressed against her chest. Then she exhaled, steady, and let the darkness settle.

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Chapter 169

“Yes,” she whispered, almost reverent. “Let’s make him burn.”

Gerald extended his hand. Slowly, Caroline took it, their grip sealing something that could not be undone.

A pact written not in ink, but in vengeance.

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AD