Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 172

Chapter 172

VENUS

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59

The sticks lay abandoned on the duvet between us, pale pink truths staring back, louder than any scream. Sabine still had one hand over mine, her grip a steady anchor, and on the screen Gianna’s face was a patch of warm light in the storm.

For the first time in hours, I wasn’t alone.

Gianna chattered at first, filling silence the way she always did. Little jokes, little reassurances. “Do you know how many diapers I’m about to buy you? Designer ones, too-Chanel, if they ever start making them. You’d better let me spoil this kid, Venus.”

Sabine snorted. “If anyone’s putting a Sinclair child in Chanel diapers, it’s me.”

Their banter tugged a reluctant laugh out of me. Weak, cracked around the edges, but it was still a laugh. My chest loosened for a heartbeat, my ribs finding air again.

But the truth sat heavy in my gut, heavier than the nausea, heavier than exhaustion. Every time my gaze drifted back to those two pink lines, the weight pressed harder.

“I don’t even know if I’d be any good at it,” I whispered. “Being someone’s mother. I can barely manage my own life without it falling apart.”

Gianna leaned close to her camera, eyes soft and steady. “Venus. I’ve watched you carry burdens that weren’t yours, fix problems no one else could fix, fight battles no one else would dare to fight. You have already been protecting, nurturing, building. That’s what mothers do. You’re more ready than you think.”

Sabine nudged my shoulder. “Besides, if you can put up with my brother’s moods and still love him? You’re already qualified.”

That earned another shaky laugh out of me, but tears burned behind it, hot and relentless.

“I don’t want him to look at me differently,” I admitted, voice so small I barely recognized it. “I don’t want to be a mistake he can’t undo.”

“Venus,” Sabine said, her tone cutting through my spiral like a blade. “Aaron Sinclair would carve his own heart out before letting you feel like a mistake, Don’t twist his devotion into something it’s not. And don’t you dare decide for him. He deserves the truth.”

I nodded faintly, because they were right. Both of them. But nodding was easier than believing.

The three of us sat there, talking in circles. Sometimes laughing, sometimes quiet, sometimes falling into those stretches of silence where the world seemed to hold its breath with me. Gianna promised she’d fly out the second I needed her. Sabine kept refilling my water glass, forcing me to take little sips like I was fragile porcelain instead of flesh and blood.

For a while, it almost felt safe.

And then the sound of the door shattered it.

20:45 Wed, Jan 14

Chapter 172

My heart stopped cold.

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The door swung open. Heavy footsteps. And then his voice, warm and steady and unmistakable: “Venus?”

Aaron.

Sabine and I exchanged a look in an instant-a silent code that only sisters could read. She snapped the phone shut, Gianna’s voice vanishing with a final good luck, and then Sabine was already rising.

59

Aaron appeared in the doorway, broad and commanding, dressed in the dark suit he’d left in. His eyes swept the room-me perched on the bed, Sabine lingering nearby, the faint tension still crackling in the air.

He frowned. “You’re still up?”

I swallowed, my throat dry as ash. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

His gaze flicked to Sabine, sharp and questioning.

“I was keeping her company,” Sabine answered smoothly, stepping forward. She wrapped her arms briefly around me, her whisper a blade in my ear: “Tell him.”

And then, to Aaron, with that calm: “She’s been… unsettled. I figured you’d want someone here.”

Aaron’s eyes softened, gratitude shadowed in the hard lines of his face. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she replied, but her smile was quick, tight. She kissed my cheek, lingering just long enough to leave warmth behind, and then she straightened. “I’ll see myself out.”

Aaron clasped her shoulder briefly, a gesture of kinship and trust. “Sabine.”

She gave him a nod, her eyes saying the words she didn’t aloud: Be careful with her. Then she was gone, her heels clicking against the floor until the door shut quietly behind her.

And suddenly it was just us.

Aaron crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps. He sat at the edge of the bed, his presence filling every inch of space, his eyes searching mine with a depth that made my chest ache.

“You’ve been crying,” he said quietly.

“I…” My voice cracked. I tried again. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t rush me. His hand closed gently over mine, warm, steady, grounding. “Then tell me, Venus. Whatever it is, I can take it.”

The words caught like thorns in my throat. My pulse pounded in my ears.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted, staring down at our hands.

His thumb brushed across my knuckles. “You don’t have to be. You can tell me anything.”

20:45 Wed, Jan 14

Chapter 172

:

I drew a deep, shuddering breath. And then I whispered it into the space between us, so soft it was barely

sound:

“I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was crushing.

I forced myself to look up at him, to meet his eyes. To see the storm gathering there.

Not joy. Not relief. Not even shock.

Fear.

59

His jaw tightened, his breath faltered, his eyes going distant in a way I had never seen. The Aaron who stared back at me was not the unshakable general, not the commanding presence who bent worlds to his will. He was a man stripped bare, standing at the edge of something too vast to name.

“Aaron?” My voice was trembling now, cracking under the weight of his silence. “Say something. Please.”

But he didn’t.

His hand slipped from mine. He stood, slow, deliberate, his movements heavy with something I couldn’t read. He crossed to the door without looking back, each step tearing me open wider.

“Aaron-” I choked, my voice breaking, tears hot and blinding. “Don’t just walk away from me. Please.”

But he didn’t answer.

The door opened.

And then it closed with a quiet, final click that echoed louder than a slam.

I sat frozen for a heartbeat. Two. And then the tears came, harsh and unstoppable, breaking me open until I collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into the emptiness he left behind.

The sticks still lay beside me, cruel reminders. Two pink lines. Clear. Unforgiving.

And now, silence.

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