Contract Marriage With My Billionaire Boss (Venus and Aaron) novel Chapter 232

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VENUS

I woke up with the taste of iron at the back of my throat and a skull-splitting ache that felt like punishment rather than consequence.

For a few seconds, I let myself lie still, staring at the ceiling as the morning light filtered through the curtains in thin, pale lines. My body was heavy, limbs slow, but my mind-my mind was viciously awake. No fog. No confusion. Just the brutal clarity of memory.

Every word I’d said to Aaron last night replayed with merciless precision.

You ruin everything. I shouldn’t have married you.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I remembered the exact moment his face changed. The way his shoulders stiffened, like he’d been bracing for impact even before I shoved him away. I remembered how quiet he’d gotten-how that silence was worse than if he’d yelled.

I hadn’t been that drunk.

That was the part that hurt the most.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat upright, palms pressed flat against the mattress. The room tilted slightly-not from alcohol, but from the headache pulsing behind my eyes. A calculated ache. A tolerable

one.

I had drunk for courage, not escape.

After I left Cedar Ridge.

It still clung to me—the way she smiled as if she were doing me a favor. The way she said Iris’s name like it was leverage instead of a child.

For now, she’d said. You do what I ask, Venus. For now. And your daughter stays alive.

For now was the most dangerous phrase in the world.

I’d gone to the bar because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Because I needed to do what I’d promised her.

Because I needed to hurt Aaron.

The bar in Crestwood had been dim and unremarkable-wood-paneled walls, sticky floors, the kind of place where no one asked questions. I’d ordered two drinks. Strong, but not reckless. Enough to dull the edges, not enough to lose control.

I needed my control.

I’d watched myself in the mirror of the bathroom afterward, splashing water on my face, practicing the slackness in my eyes. Practicing the stumble in my step. Practicing the version of myself that looked like she’d

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cracked.

I’d deleted the messages in the stall.

Every last one.

Andrea was careful. She never wrote what couldn’t be explained away, but she wrote enough. Enough for Aaron to notice patterns. Enough for Connor to raise an eyebrow. Enough for Rick to pull threads that would eventually

lead back to her.

I didn’t leave them a single thread.

By the time I got into the taxi, my phone was clean. My hands were steady. My heart was not.

I knew Aaron would track me.

I’d heard him ask Connor yesterday-heard the edge in his voice, the instinctive pivot into protector mode. I’d been awake but pretended sleep dragged me under.

Track her movements.

They’d check.

They’d find the river.

They’d find Cedar Ridge.

They’d find the bar.

And they’d find nothing else.

Because there was nothing else to find.

I pressed my fingers into my temples now, breathing through the pain as the house remained eerily quiet. Too quiet for a home with children. Too quiet for a marriage that had nearly imploded twelve hours earlier.

I wondered-briefly-if this was what the aftermath of survival felt like.

The door opened behind me.

I didn’t turn.

I knew it was Aaron before he spoke. I could always tell by the way the air shifted, by the weight of his presence filling the room like gravity.

“You’re awake?” he asked quietly.

Something in his voice tightened my chest.

I stared straight ahead at the dresser.

I said nothing.

The silence stretched.

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I felt it when his face fell-felt it like a bruise blooming under my ribs. But I didn’t move. Didn’t soften. Didn’t

let it show.

I couldn’t.

He stepped closer. Smelled him then-coffee, soap and exhaustion. He hadn’t slept. Of course he hadn’t.

“What was that last night?” he asked.

The question was calm, but it carried everything beneath it. Confusion. Hurt. Anger he was keeping on a leash.

“And why did you drink that much?”

He didn’t even ask why I drugged him, he still put me first.

I laughed softly, humorless. The sound scraped my throat.

“My head’s killing me,” I said, finally turning just enough to glance at him. “And I’m really not in the mood for interrogations this morning.”

It was a half-truth, sharpened into a blade.

His jaw tightened.

“I’m not interrogating you,” he said. “I’m asking because you came home barely standing and said things you’ve never said to me before.”

I swallowed.

I remembered the way his eyes had searched my face last night-like he was looking for the woman he knew beneath the damage.

She was still there.

She just couldn’t surface.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said flatly.

I pushed myself off the bed, the room spinning just enough to sell the lie. My knees protested as I stood, but I welcomed the pain. Pain was grounding. Pain reminded me why I was doing this.

I walked past him.

He reached out instinctively, fingers brushing my wrist.

The contact nearly broke me.

I pulled away before he could feel the tremor.

“I’m taking a shower,” I said. “Please don’t follow me.”

His hand fell back to his side.

I didn’t look at him as I crossed the room, but I felt his eyes on me-felt the questions he wasn’t asking, the conclusions he was drawing.

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This was working.

That thought was both relief and grief.

I closed the bathroom door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, breathing hard. The lock clicked softly when I turned it. A small, selfish barrier.

I slid down until I was sitting on the tile, head tipped back against the door.

I wanted to cry.

I didn’t.

Andrea’s voice cut through my thoughts with surgical precision.

And the things Gerald did to you… will look like a warm-up compared to what I will do to Iris.

I got up slowly, stripped off my clothes, and stepped into the shower. The water was scalding, but I didn’t adjust

1. I welcomed the burn as it cascaded over my shoulders, over my face, washing nothing away.

I pressed my forehead against the cool tile and let the water drown out the sound of my breathing.

Aaron would investigate.

He always did.

He’d pull every thread until his fingers bled. He’d question everyone. He’d dismantle cities if he had to.

Which meant I had to become the one place he couldn’t look.

The enemy wasn’t just outside our home anymore.

It was inside me.

And I would carry it.

For Iris.

For now.

My phone vibrated on the countertop.

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