The CEO's Contractual Wife (Olivia and Ryan) novel Chapter 35

Olivia

“We’re… taking things slow,” I said finally. “Getting to know each other.”

“Mm–hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced. “And how’s that going?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

I sighed, choosing my words carefully. “He’s not exactly the relationship type. And after Ryan…”

“You’re scared,” she finished for me.

“Cautious,” I corrected. “I’m being cautious.”

“Fair enough.” She squeezed my hand. “Just remember what I said, okay? Don’t let him break your heart.”

“I won’t.”

The cab pulled up to Emilia’s apartment building, and she leaned over to hug me.

“Text me when you get home,” she instructed. “And we’re doing brunch this weekend. No excuses.”

“Yes, mom,” I laughed.

“Love you, Liv.”

“Love you too.”

She disappeared into her building, and the cab continued on to my apartment. I leaned my head against the window, watching the city lights blur past. The events of the past week felt surreal, like something from a movie, not a part of my actual life.

The city lights streaked past the cab window, smearing into watercolor lines of neon and streetlamps. I traced one fingertip along the cool glass, watching my reflection flicker between shadows. Had it really been only three weeks since Ryan and Sophia? Since Alexander Carter had swooped into my life like some dark fairy tale prince with a contract instead of a glass slipper?

The cab stopped at my building, and I paid the driver with a generous tip.

“Have a good night, miss,” the driver said, counting the bills.

“You too.”

23

My apartment felt emptier than usual. I kicked off my shoes and dropped my purse on the counter, not bothering to turn on the lights. The glow from the street lamps filtered through my blinds, casting striped shadows across the floor.

I peeled off my clothes, leaving them in a trail as I made my way to the bathroom. The hot shower helped clear my head, washing away the smell of club smoke and taco truck grease. By the time I crawled into bed, my hair damp against the pillow, exhaustion had fully settled in.

My last coherent thought before sleep claimed me was of Alexander’s face when I’d told him, “Not tonight.” Had that been a disappointment in his eyes? Or relief?

1/3

The shrill ring of my phone jolted me awake. I fumbled in the darkness, hand slapping blindly across my nightstand until 1 found the vibrating device. The screen blazed with painful brightness in the dark room, displaying “Nicholas” and the time:

6:08 AM.

My stomach dropped. No one calls at six in the morning with good news.

“Hello?” My voice came out raspy with sleep.

“Liv, it’s Nick.” My older brother’s voice was tight, controlled in that way he gets when he’s trying not to panic. “Dad’s in the hospital.”

I sat bolt upright, sleep evaporating instantly. “What happened?”

“He woke up around four with chest pains. Mom called an ambulance. They’ve got him stabilized, but…” He exhaled sharply. “It’s not good, Liv. You should come.”

I was already out of bed, switching on lights, mentally cataloging what I needed to do.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Is Mom okay?”

“Holding it together, barely. You know how she gets.”

I did know. My mother faced the crisis with a stoic calm that often cracked the moment the danger passed. She’d be all business now, asking doctors questions, remembering details no one else would think to ask. Later, when Dad was home and safe, she’d fall apart in private.

“I’m on my way,” I promised.

I ended the call and moved with practiced efficiency. Jeans, sweater, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. No time for makeup.

The elevator seemed to take forever. I jabbed the button repeatedly, knowing it wouldn’t make it arrive faster, but unable to stop myself. When it finally opened, I practically ran into the lobby.

“Is everything alright, Ms. Morgan?” asked the night doorman, his lined face creased with concern.

“My dad’s in the hospital. I need a cab.”

“I’ll get you one right away.” He stepped outside.

I paced in small circles in the lobby, checking my phone. No new messages from Nick. Was that good or bad? The three hundred thousand from Alexander sat in my account, ready to be used. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about how to pay for whatever Dad needed.

The doorman appeared at the door. “Cab’s here, Ms. Morgan.”

“Thank you,” I said, rushing past him.

“I hope your father will be alright,” he called after me.

I gave him a quick nod before sliding into the back seat of the yellow cab.

The driver pulled into the early morning traffic. Los Angeles was never truly asleep, but at this hour, the streets were as empty as they ever got. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past, trying not to imagine worst–case scenarios.

The hospital loomed ahead, its windows lit like a giant honeycomb against the pre–dawn sky. I paid the driver and hurried through the automatic doors into the antiseptic brightness of the emergency department.

2/3

A quick stop at the information desk directed me to the cardiac floor. The elevator ride up felt interminable. When the doors finally opened, I spotted my mother immediately, sitting ramrod straight in an uncomfortable–looking chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

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