Bound By Contract To The Secret Tycoon

Chapter 6

Word Count: 733 | Released on: Today at 14:04

. Chloe walked into the kitchen, determined to make up for her uselessne

tickle built up in her nose. She inhale

l slipped from her wet fingers and crashed

h the room. Shards of white c

b the largest broken piece. The razor-sharp edge

t her pale skin. A sharp sting shot up her a

trode out. He wore a grey t-shirt and athletic short

is face darkened. He crossed the kitchen i

e running faucet. The freez

yank her hand b

forearm was absolute, yet his thumb gently rubbe

led her away from the sink, leading her to the liv

, pulled out a heavy white fir

. He pulled out a cotton swab and a bottle of iodine. He took

rison immediately slowed his movements, blowing a fain

finger. He did not say a word the entire time. The silence was thick,

mouth to thank him, s

pressed the back of his hand against h

ropping his hand. "You caught a chill

rm water, and brought it back with two green c

grabbed a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the broken ce

coffee table. The caller ID fl

and pressed it to

he speaker. She was clearly drunk. "Chloe, you listen

on, who was dumping the glass int

g to drain your bank acc

I expected," Chloe whispered, turning her back to the kitchen. "I honestly think he is terrible with h

hone before Eleanor could

aged her finger with extreme care, yet he kept a rigid physical distance.

tine clothes, his refusal to let her cook or

n her mind. She stared at his broad b

Chapter End

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Bound By Contract To The Secret Tycoon

Yan Huo Modern

“To escape my greedy stepmother, I signed a marriage contract with a cold, rigid construction manager, expecting a miserable life of poverty. But the moment the ink dried, I realized I had severely misjudged the man I just married. He wasn't a broke blue-collar worker. He lived in a multi-million-dollar penthouse, spoke flawless business French, and cooked gourmet meals while forbidding me from doing chores. Most bizarrely, he dodged my physical touch like it was a live wire. He gave me a massive separate bedroom. When a speeding bike nearly hit me on the street, he yanked me to safety, only to violently shove himself away a second later, seemingly terrified of holding a woman. I decided to test him, stating I wanted to delay having children for our fake marriage. "I will respect your wishes entirely and shield you from my family," he answered perfectly. The puzzle pieces snapped together in my mind. The immaculate apartment, the commanding presence, the absolute refusal to be intimate. I was absolutely certain: my wealthy fake husband was gay, and I was just his beard. Relieved that I wouldn't have to sleep with a stranger, I happily relaxed into my new role as his supportive best friend. But as elite job offers mysteriously began landing in my inbox, I started to realize my "gay" husband was hiding a much deeper, far more dangerous obsession.”