Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 200

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VENUS

“Mom! George is climbing the tree again!”

Iris’ voice rang out from the backyard, that familiar mix of indignation and triumph that only a tattletale seven- year-old could master.

“Iris!” George hissed from the branches above, trying to shush his sister before she could get him in trouble.

I lifted my sunglasses and squinted toward the jacaranda tree at the far end of the yard. There he was-my daring little monkey, all scraped knees and wild curls-perched halfway up, grinning as if gravity didn’t apply to him.

“George Anselm Sinclair,” I called, fighting a smile. “Get down. Now.”

“But, Mom-”

“Now.”

He groaned dramatically. “Okay, okay, I’m coming down.”

He started his careful descent, his sneakers scraping bark, while Iris sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket, doodling furiously in her drawing pad. The twins-seven years old now-were the perfect mixture of chaos and wonder. They were growing too fast; I swore I could see it happening in real time.

A tiny giggle caught my attention. Sabine had crawled away from her toys and was making a beeline toward her siblings. She was almost two now, all chubby cheeks and mischief, with a head full of brown curls and eyes like Aaron’s. She squealed as she toddled toward them, unsteady but determined.

Sabine adored all the kids but especially Sabine Jr-her “Minnie me,” as she liked to call her.

The day we brought the baby home, Iris had clapped her hands and declared, “She’s mine!” as if she’d ordered

her herself.

“Mommmm! George took my pencil!” Iris’s voice rose again, just as George plopped down beside her.

“I did not!” he said, the very picture of innocence-except the missing pencil was tucked neatly behind his ear.

“George, baby, give it back,” I said without looking up.

He sighed, handing it over with exaggerated defeat. “Fine.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. “Thank you. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Sabine Jr.—yes, that’s what Iris insisted on calling her little sister-clapped her hands like the whole thing was a comedy show staged for her amusement.

The backyard was a warm mosaic of sun and laughter. The sky stretched wide and soft above us, the air heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint salt of the nearby sea. I reclined on the lounge chair, sunglasses on, legs stretched out, a glass of iced lemonade sweating beside me.

Life was loud, messy, and full-and I loved every piece of it.

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Sabine the older Sabine-had married Connor a year ago. A beautiful ceremony in Tuscany, all soft candlelight and clinking glasses, with vineyards stretching endlessly behind them. The twins had been in the wedding, too: George as a groomsman (he’d called himself a “groomsboy”) and Iris as a bridesmaid. The memory still warmed me.

Gianna and Lucien had broken up-tragic, really-but they handled it with grace. They still showed up at family gatherings, never letting bitterness ruin what we all had built together. I never pried, though curiosity sometimes burned at the back of my throat. They both said the same thing: “We just weren’t compatible.”

I had shipped them so hard, and my ship had sunk without warning. But Gianna was thriving-now a senior executive at Hawthorne Law Syndicate. She always did land on her feet.

And Dorian and his ex-wife? Oh, they were another story. Those two were like magnets that refused to admit they were drawn to each other. Always fighting, always circling back. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before they found their way home again.

Then there was Colton-my brother, my confidant. We’d grown closer over the years. He’d started seeing someone new. Serious this time. I could see it in the way he talked about her, the way his voice softened when her name came up. I couldn’t wait to dance at his wedding someday.

“Mom!” George barreled toward me again, barefoot and breathless. “I want a juice box.”

“Okay,” I said, reaching for the cooler beside me. “Here’s a juice box-and some water.” I handed him both.” Give one to Iris too.”

“And Sabine?”

“You’ll have to guide her, sweetheart.”

His face lit up, proud of the responsibility. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be careful!”

He ran off, his curls bouncing, the sunlight catching in them like gold threads. He crouched beside Sabine, helping her hold the straw. She giggled again, tiny hands clutching the box too tight so the juice almost squirted

out.

Watching them like that-innocent, content, safe-made my heart swell so full it almost hurt.

We’d hired nannies, of course. They adored the kids and spoiled them shamelessly, but when it came down to it, the kids always found their way back to me.

Aaron and I had promised each other that no matter how busy life got, we’d be present. We’d build a home full of laughter, not absence.

He was away on business now-France this time. He called every hour, without fail. Even if it was just to say, “I miss you, Venus.” He was coming home tomorrow. I could almost hear the sound of his key turning in the lock already.

I missed him more than I could admit. Even after all these years, distance still stung.

We moved out of the penthouse to an estate in the outskirts of New York when we had Sabine Jr. It was emotional for both of us but especially me because that was where it all blossomed. We agreed to keep the penthouse though.

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“Mom, can we go swimming after lunch?” Iris asked.

“Only if you finish your sandwiches.”

“Ugh, fine.” She scrunched her nose but picked up her plate.

Sabine toddled over to me again, climbing onto the lounge chair. “Up, Mama.

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I pulled her into my lap, inhaling that sweet baby scent-milk, soap, and sunshine. She nestled against me, her tiny fingers tracing the chain of my necklace.

“You’re getting big, you know that?” I whispered.

She nodded solemnly, though she clearly didn’t understand a word.

I smiled. She’s growing up. They all are.

My eyes drifted over the backyard again. Iris chasing butterflies, George pretending to be a superhero with a towel cape, Iris babbling to herself while trying to feed the grass a piece of cookie.

Moments like these didn’t feel fleeting-they felt eternal.

And yet, deep inside, I knew how fragile they were. How life could twist in a heartbeat. But I pushed the thought away. Today was too beautiful for fear.

The afternoon sun dipped lower, painting everything in honeyed gold. I gathered the plates and juice boxes, ushering the kids inside.

After their baths, we curled up on the couch. Iris picked a movie, George fought over the popcorn bowl, and Sabine fell asleep halfway through, her thumb in her mouth.

By the time I tucked them into bed, the sky outside had turned indigo. The house was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the distant hum of the waves.

I stood by the window of our bedroom, phone in hand, watching the horizon. My reflection looked content, peaceful-even a little proud.

This is it, I thought. The life I fought for. The life we built.

Aaron old me he was going to be in the meeting for the next few hours, so I didn’t expect a text from him.

I set the phone down on the nightstand and climbed into bed, curling under his side of the sheets. It still smelled faintly of his cologne-woody, clean, and familiar.

My heart ached with quiet gratitude.

Life was good. Life was beautiful. Everything was going perfectly.

Until it wasn’t.

The phone rang.

Once. Twice.

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