My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 12

The Deal of a Lifetime

“Katia,” Sam said, practically bursting into the office with her iPad clutched in both hands like it held the Holy Grail, “we got

it.”

I blinked up from my screen. “Got what?”

Her grin could’ve lit up Times Square, “WEG. We won the bid. The contract is ours.”

I shot up so fast my chair slammed into the wall behind me “No–Sam Sam, say that again.”

“We got the WEG contract,” she repeated, biting back a squeal. “You’re now officially a vendor partner for Windsor Empire Group.”

My knees gave out. Not in the dramatic, fainting sort of way, more like the ground shifted beneath me and I just needed to feel it. I sat on the edge of my desk and pressed a hand over my mouth as tears welled in my eyes.

“Sam… we’re going to be rich.”

She laughed. “Katia, you’re already rich. Like… borderline ridiculous.”

“No. This is different. This is old–money territory. WEG doesn’t just do partnerships. They anoint. This isn’t a contract, it’s a damh fucking coronation. I’ve dreamed about working with them since the moment I started I* ”

“You earned it,” Sam said simply, and handed me the iPad with the official confirmation. “They’re impressed by our Al logistics module, by the clean energy investments… Kat, this is big.”

“I’m going to cry again.”

“You’re allowed.”

She moved closer and squeezed my shoulder. “We should celebrate. Let’s go out tonight. Pick a five–star.”

“I’d love to, but…” I exhaled. “I kind of want to race. Just one lap. You know, clear my head, feel the thrill again. Win one for me.”

Sam smirked. “A celebration lap. I’ll get the car ready after work.”

I nodded, and as she turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the black screen of my iPad, sharp red lipstick, no- nonsense bun, tailored Armani blouse, and I barely recognized the girl I used to be. The girl who was once kicked out wearing nothing but a robe.

The second Sam left, I slumped back into my chair. The smile faded. I stared at the iPad; the words blur. I wasn’t reading.

I was spiraling, because behind the billion–dollar deal, behind the ink and the boardrooms and the champagne… was the man. The man I never saw again. The stranger who’d changed everything.

The father of my son. The man who gave me Aiden.

My memory of that night was a locked vault. A blur of velvet darkness, whiskey on his tongue, and hands that made me forget where I ended and he began his voice sometimes visited me in dreams, low, commanding, and warm

But never his face. Why can’t I fucking remember his face?

The door to my office slammed open, and Delia walked in. Since I came back, they act like everything is fine since they asked tor forgiveness. I sighed and stared at her.

She wore four–inch designer heels clacking against marble like a battle cry.

“Boundaries are myths in my family,” I muttered.

“Katia!” Delta sang, striding in like she owned the building. Her bright pink mini dress was weaponized femininity, and she

The Peetation Fra

somehow managed to look both ridiculously overdressed and effortlessly perfect. “Please tell me you’re coming to my engagement ceremony.”

“She’s always trying–trying to rewrite the narrative. I’m still the girl who disappointed her. Now with a baby and a husband.” Delia leaned forward. “Are you coming tonight?”

“I might.”

“Can I bring a camera crew?”

“You bring a camera crew, and I’ll replace your shampoo with Nair.”

She cackled. “I love you.”

“I know.”

With a final wink, she was gone. A pink tornado in Chanel heels.

I glanced at the clock; it was two hours until Aiden’s school pickup. Plenty of time to wrap up the last few calls and sign off on the WEG paperwork.

The Windsor Empire Group. WEG.

The company I now had a contract with. The most powerful conglomerate in the country–hotels, resorts, arenas, aviation, tech. Rumor had it their CEO was a ghost. No interviews. No public appearances. Just shadows and rumors.

Funny, Because I’m married to a ghost too, but I refused to let people know that my husband is a ghost. That’s why I wear my ring like armour.

The sun dipped lower by the time we reached the track. My car was already there, a sleeks McLaren Sabre, gleaming under the overhead lights like it had secrets of its own.

“This is your celebration lap,” Sam reininded ine “Don’t get reckless.”

The bar of hum