The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Ryan) novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142

Chapter 142

Olivia

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When the song ended, Alexander led me back toward our table, but we were intercepted by a distinguished–looking woman with silver hair.

“Dr. Porter,” Alexander greeted her warmly. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Olivia. Olivia, this is Dr. Emily Porter, head of the Children’s Hospital Foundation.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand.

“The pleasure is mine,” Dr. Porter replied. “Alexander has been one of our most generous supporters. The Carter Wing has helped thousands of children.”

“The Carter Wing?” I looked at Alexander questioningly.

Dr. Porter seemed surprised. “The pediatric research center. Alexander funded it three years ago. Surely he told you?”

Alexander looked almost embarrassed. “It never came up.”

“Well, he’s too modest,” Dr. Porter continued. “The center focuses on rare childhood diseases, many of which were considered untreatable before our

research.”

I felt a surge of admiration for Alexander. “That’s incredible work.”

“We couldn’t do it without supporters like your husband,” Dr. Porter said. “Perhaps you’d like to tour the facility sometime? See the impact firsthand?”

“I’d love that,” I replied honestly.

After Dr. Porter moved on to greet other guests, I turned to Alexander. “You never mentioned funding a pediatric research center.”

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable with the praise. “It was a good investment.”

“In children?”

“In the future,” he corrected. “Those kids deserve a chance.”

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Chapter 142

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I stood there looking at Alexander, his words echoing in my head. The simple statement that kids deserved a chance revealed a side of him I’d never expected. Not from the ruthless CEO who commanded boardrooms and made million- dollar decisions without blinking.

“What?” Alexander asked, noticing my expression.

“Nothing.” I shook my head slightly. “It’s just not what I expected you to say.”

His eyebrow raised. “What did you expect? That I funded a children’s hospital for the tax write–off?”

“Well… maybe?”

He laughed. “I do appreciate the tax benefits. But that’s not why I did it.”

“So why did you?” I asked, genuinely curious about this unexpected side of Alexander.

“Kids deserve a fighting chance. Especially those dealing with rare diseases that don’t get much research funding. Most pharmaceutical companies focus on more common conditions because they offer better profit margins.”

“That’s… surprisingly altruistic of you.”

Alexander’s lips quirked up. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m not always the heartless CEO the business magazines make me out to be.”

Before I could respond, the master of ceremonies tapped on the microphone, drawing everyone’s attention to the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. We’re about to begin the auction portion of our evening.”

Alexander guided me back to the Carter table, his hand warm against the small of my back. Harold was already engaged in conversation with another elderly gentleman, while Victoria examined the auction catalog with exaggerated interest.

“Anything catch your eye?” Alexander asked, glancing at the catalog in front of me.

I flipped through the glossy pages. “Maybe the weekend in Napa? I’ve never been

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Chapter 142

wine tasting.”

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“We can go to Napa anytime,” he said dismissively. “Look at the artwork section. There’s an original Basquiat sketch.”

I found the page and nearly choked on my champagne when I saw the estimated value. “Two hundred thousand dollars? For a sketch?”

“Art is an investment. One that tends to appreciate quite nicely.”

The auctioneer, a distinguished man with a British accent, stepped up to the podium. “Good evening, esteemed guests. Tonight, we have an extraordinary collection of items to auction, with all proceeds benefiting the Children’s Hospital Foundation.”

The first few items went quickly: luxury spa packages, sports memorabilia, dinner with a celebrity chef. I watched with fascination as people casually bid thousands of dollars with a mere lift of their auction paddles.

“Next up, we have a seven–day Mediterranean cruise aboard the Silver Seas yacht. This exclusive experience includes a private chef, full crew, and stops at Capri, Santorini, and Mykonos. Bidding starts at fifteen thousand dollars.”

Paddles shot up around the room. I sat back, content to watch the wealthy play their high–stakes game.

“Twenty thousand,” called a woman in red.

“Twenty–five,” countered a man near the front.

The bidding escalated rapidly, finally settling at forty–five thousand dollars. The auctioneer’s gavel came down with a satisfying thud, and polite applause rippled through the room.

“Quite reasonable,” Harold commented from across the table. “That yacht rents for fifteen thousand a day.”

I tried not to look as shocked as I felt.

“Next item: a private cooking class with three–star Michelin chef Alan Marceau, followed by dinner for six at his restaurant, Table. Bidding starts at ten thousand.”

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Chapter 142

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“Fifteen,” Alexander called, raising his paddle.

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The bidding continued, with Alexander eventually winning at twenty–five thousand dollars.

“Congratulations,” I murmured. “Does this mean I get to be one of the six dinner guests?”

“You get to be my sous chef,” he replied with a wink. “And then sit at my right hand for dinner.”

The next item was a rare bottle of scotch that sold for an eye–watering amount to Charles Carter, who looked genuinely pleased with his purchase.

As the auction progressed, I caught sight of a familiar face across the room. James Westbrook sat at a table near the stage, looking impeccable in his tuxedo. He hadn’t noticed me, his attention focused on the auction catalog in his hands.

“Next up, an exclusive item just added to our collection,” the auctioneer announced. “A one–of–a–kind Basquiat sketch, authenticated and framed. This piece has never before been available to the public. Bidding starts at one hundred

thousand dollars.”

Alexander sat up straighter, his interest piqued. “That’s the one,” he whispered to

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