Taming My Silent Billionaire Contract Husband

Cassie's body jerked upward from the velvet sofa.

Her knee slammed into the heavy marble table. The tall glass of ice water tipped over, shattering the quiet elegance of the Sant Ambroeus cafe.

Ice cubes scattered across the polished surface. Cold water soaked into the edge of her pristine white silk skirt.

She couldn't breathe. Her lungs burned as if she had just inhaled a lungful of freezing ocean water.

Her heart hammered against her ribs so violently that her fingertips went completely numb. Sweat coated her spine, making the expensive fabric stick to her skin.

"Cassie? Are you okay?"

The voice pulled her back to reality.

Cassie blinked hard. The blurry shapes in front of her sharpened.

Adelaide Collier sat across from her. Adelaide was leaning forward, holding out a crisp white napkin.

There was a look of deep concern on Adelaide's perfectly contoured face. But Cassie caught the brief, unmistakable flash of disgust in Adelaide's eyes as she looked at the spilled water.

"You spaced out again," Adelaide said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is it the marriage? Is that dead, silent penthouse finally driving you insane?"

Cassie stared at the napkin. Her stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot.

It wasn't a dream. The nightmare she just woke up from was real.

In her mind, she could still feel the freezing rain hitting her face. She could still feel the rough concrete of the sidewalk scraping her knees after she was thrown out of the Harvey family penthouse.

She remembered the divorce papers. She remembered the strict prenuptial agreement that left her with absolutely nothing.

And she remembered Adelaide standing in the warm lobby of the building, smiling that same perfectly contoured smile, watching her freeze.

Cassie swallowed hard. The metallic taste of fear coated her tongue.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. She needed oxygen to think.

As she looked down to take the napkin, her eyes followed the trail of spilled water. The water was pooling around Adelaide's iPhone.

The phone was placed face-up on the table, partially hidden under Adelaide's napkin.

As Adelaide shifted in her seat, her sleeve brushed the napkin aside, waking the phone's screen for a split second. In that instant, Cassie saw it-the unmistakable red bar at the top of the screen with a running timer.

Cassie's blood ran cold. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped directly over her head.

The recording app.

This was the exact moment. This was the conversation that would breach the confidentiality clause of her prenuptial agreement.

Adelaide leaned closer. She reached out and gently touched Cassie's wrist.

"You can tell me, Cassie," Adelaide coaxed softly. "I know Garrison is basically a mute robot. It must be torture living with a man who can't even say good morning to you. Just let it out. I promise I won't tell a soul."

Cassie stared at Adelaide's manicured fingers resting on her skin. It felt like a venomous snake was crawling over her wrist.

The panic in Cassie's chest vanished. It was instantly replaced by a massive surge of adrenaline.

Survival instinct kicked in.

Cassie pulled her hand back smoothly. She wiped the water from her skirt, her movements slow and deliberate.

Then, she looked up.

Cassie stretched her lips into a massive, flawless, sickeningly sweet smile.

"Torture?" Cassie asked.

She didn't whisper. She spoke loudly. Her clear voice carried easily over the soft jazz playing in the cafe.

Adelaide flinched. She quickly glanced around at the neighboring tables.

"Keep your voice down," Adelaide hissed through her teeth.

"Why would I keep my voice down?" Cassie asked, smiling even wider. "I have absolutely nothing to complain about, Adelaide. Garrison is the most perfect husband in all of New York."

Adelaide's jaw actually dropped. Her eyes widened in pure shock.

"What?" Adelaide stammered. "But... but last week you said the penthouse felt like a graveyard."

Cassie leaned forward. She rested her elbows on the table, bringing her face inches from Adelaide's.

"I was just adjusting to my new life," Cassie said clearly, making sure her voice was projecting directly toward the blinking red light. "Garrison is a mature, stable man. His silence is his strength. He doesn't waste time on meaningless gossip."

Adelaide's face twitched. The fake concern was melting off her features.

She began tapping her French-manicured nails rapidly against the marble table. The clicking sound betrayed her rising anxiety.

"Cassie, be real," Adelaide pushed, her voice sounding desperate now. "He has a defect. He can't speak. You're a vibrant woman. You're telling me you don't feel suffocated?"

Cassie ignored the bait completely.

"His business acumen on Wall Street is unmatched," Cassie declared proudly. "He provides for me. He respects me. I am incredibly lucky to be Mrs. Garrison Harvey."

A waiter suddenly appeared beside their table, holding a white towel.

"Excuse me, ladies. Let me clean this up for you," the waiter said, stepping between them to wipe the spilled water.

Adelaide glared at the waiter, her eyes shooting daggers at the young man for interrupting her trap.

Cassie used the distraction. She lifted her left arm and looked at the Cartier watch on her wrist.

She ran her thumb over the cold, hard diamonds on the bezel. The physical sensation grounded her. It reminded her of the wealth she was fighting to keep.

"Oh, look at the time," Cassie said, faking a gasp of surprise. "I need to head back. I have to prepare the apartment for my husband's return."

Adelaide scrambled to her feet. She reached out and grabbed Cassie's forearm. Her grip was tight, almost painful.

"Wait," Adelaide said quickly. "Let's order a bottle of champagne. We haven't even really talked yet."

Cassie looked down at Adelaide's hand.

Cassie reached over and peeled Adelaide's fingers off her arm, one by one. Her touch was gentle, but her grip was like iron.

"I can't," Cassie said softly. "I strictly follow the Harvey family's healthy schedule now. No day drinking."

Adelaide's fake smile completely shattered. Her facial muscles were tense. She looked like she wanted to scream.

Cassie turned to the waiter.

"Check, please," Cassie said.

She reached into her designer bag and pulled out a heavy, matte-black American Express card.

She placed the Black Card on the table with a solid, satisfying thud. It landed right next to Adelaide's phone.

Adelaide stared at the Black Card. The jealousy in her eyes was so thick it was almost suffocating. For a second, Adelaide seemed to forget all about her failed recording.

Cassie stood up. She smoothed down her high-end skirt.

She looked down at Adelaide. There was no warmth in Cassie's eyes anymore. There was only cold, clear distance.

Adelaide forced herself to stand up. She opened her arms for a standard social goodbye hug.

"Well, I hope you have a good afternoon," Adelaide muttered, clearly hoping to catch one last whispered complaint.

Cassie didn't step into the hug. She just gave a polite nod.

"Have a wonderful day, Adelaide," Cassie said.

Cassie turned on her heel and walked out of the Sant Ambroeus cafe.

She pushed through the heavy glass doors and stepped out into the bright Manhattan sunlight.

The moment the sun hit her face, Cassie felt a massive, crushing weight lift off her chest. She had survived the first trap.

Inside the cafe, Adelaide snatched her phone off the table. Her hands were shaking with rage.

She quickly tapped the screen to stop the recording.

Adelaide shoved her AirPods into her ears and hit play.

She listened to the audio. All she heard was Cassie's loud, clear voice praising Garrison like he was a god. There wasn't a single negative word. There was no leverage.

"Bitch," Adelaide cursed under her breath.

She pressed the delete button violently. The audio file vanished.

A wealthy woman at the next table turned and gave Adelaide a shocked, disapproving look. Adelaide ignored her, her chest heaving with frustration.

Out on the sidewalk, Cassie stood still for a moment.

She took a deep breath of the city air. It smelled like exhaust fumes and expensive perfume. It smelled like reality.

She accepted it. She was Cassie Webster now. She was trapped in this script, and she was going to survive it.

Cassie pulled her phone out of her purse. She opened her contacts and scrolled until she found the name: Garrison Harvey.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Her heart gave a nervous little flutter.

She knew the script's truth about him. He wasn't the story's final villain, just the cold obstacle between her and her trust fund.

Cassie locked her phone screen. Her eyes hardened with determination.

Step one was complete. Step two was simple: treat her contract husband like the ultimate VIP client.

Cassie turned and started walking down the busy street, heading straight for the lion's den.