My Contract Husband Has Six Months To Live

Chapter 8

Donald woke before dawn.

For several seconds, he remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the unfamiliar figure sleeping peacefully beside him. The room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of two steady heartbeats.

Golden rays from the rising sun slipped through the slight opening in the curtains, casting a warm glow across Rita's sleeping face. One of her hands rested lightly on the edge of the blanket while a few loose strands of hair had fallen across her cheek. She looked completely defenseless, as though she had forgotten herself.

Donald frowned slightly. Surprisingly, he remembered what had happened to him the previous day, and he didn’t feel angry.

Under normal circumstances, anyone who entered his private room without permission would have been thrown out immediately. Quietly, he lifted the blanket, careful not to wake her. His movements were unusually gentle, almost instinctive. After one final glance at the sleeping woman, Donald slipped out of bed and walked silently toward his private bathroom, leaving Rita completely.

“So Cute”

Donald's bathroom was every bit as grand as the rest of the Hart villa, resembling a luxurious five-star hotel spa more than an ordinary bathroom.

To the left was an enormous walk-in wardrobe designed exclusively for his bath essentials. Rows of handcrafted wooden shelves displayed neatly folded Egyptian cotton towels in different shades of white and gray, while expensive bathrobes hung in perfect order according to fabric and season. Glass cabinets showcased imported grooming products collected from different parts of the world.

Beyond the dressing area sat an oversized stone bathtub carved from a single block of black marble, positioned beside a rainfall shower enclosed with crystal-clear tempered glass. Every detail reflected wealth and perfection.

Yet one corner of the luxurious room sharply contrasted the elegance surrounding it. An entire wall had become a canvas of colorful sticky notes, each carrying reminders written in Donald's own handwriting. Without hesitation, he walked toward them, pulled a marker from a nearby drawer, and read through the notes one after another.

"You are Donald Hart."

"Betty Hart is your mother."

"Raymond Hart is your father."

"Michael is your assistant."

His expression remained calm until his gaze settled on another note that read: "The doctor gave you six months to live."

He stared at it for a long moment before tearing a fresh sticky note from the pad. After thinking quietly, he wrote another sentence in careful handwriting.

"My Wife stayed with me last night."

He pressed the note firmly onto the wall beside the others before stepping beneath the warm shower. As water poured over him, he closed his eyes briefly. Somehow, the nightmare from last night no longer lingered as painfully as before. He felt peace.

Nearly thirty minutes later, Donald emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped securely around his waist. Tiny droplets of water traced down his shoulders and across his toned chest before disappearing beneath the towel. His damp hair rested casually against his forehead as he walked out.

At that exact moment, Rita slowly stirred awake. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for several seconds she simply blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling before memory returned all at once. She stood upright, only for her eyes to land directly on Donald.

Her breath caught. She had seen countless male models on television and in fashion magazines, but none of them can be comapre to Donald standing only a few feet away. His lean, athletic build made her lose her breath. Before she realized it, she had been staring far longer than she intended.

Donald noticed immediately.

Without looking embarrassed, he calmly buttoned his shirt and lifted an eyebrow. "Are you finished staring?" His deep voice instantly snapped Rita back to reality.

Her cheeks burned crimson. "I... I'm so sorry!" She quickly turned her face away in embarrassment, wishing the floor would swallow her whole.

Donald continued dressing as though nothing had happened before speaking again. "Why were you in my room?"

Rita looked at him in confusion. "He... doesn’t remember?" she asked herself.

Donald's expression remained unreadable. Rita immediately wondered if he was simply pretending not to remember what happened during the night. Hadn't he held onto her himself?

Before she could explain, Donald interrupted calmly. " According to our contract, you entered my room without permission. You broke one of the rules."

Rita's heart sank. "Mr. Hart, I only came because I forgot to return your notebook, and then I found..."

Donald raised a hand, stopping her explanation. "This is your first offense." He walked toward the bedroom door and opened it for her. "I will overlook it this once. Don't let it happen again." His tone remained professional, almost emotionless. “Now, get out”

Rita stared at him in disbelief.

After everything she had done for him, after spending the entire night making sure he was alright, this was all she received?

She clenched her fists tightly before dropping the notebook from the bedside table with more force than necessary, creating a loud thud that echoed through the room. Without another word, she marched toward the door. As she reached it, frustration got hold of her.

Donald watched silently as Rita disappeared into the hallway without looking back, leaving an unusually heavy silence behind her.

Donald remained standing where he was long after the bedroom door closed. His eyes drifted toward the notebook Rita had left behind before his phone vibrated on the bedside table.

The caller ID displayed one familiar name, Michael. Donald answered immediately.

"Good morning, sir," Michael greeted respectfully. "I've finalized today's schedule."

Donald glanced toward the closed bedroom door. After a brief silence, he spoke in a calm but thoughtful voice. "From today onward, send Rita my complete daily schedule as well."

Michael paused in surprise. "Your wife, sir?"

"Yes."

Another moment of silence followed before Michael replied, "Understood. I will make sure Mrs. Hart receives everything from now on."

The call ended, but Donald remained motionless.

His gaze unconsciously shifted toward the bed where Rita had slept only moments earlier. For over twenty years, ever since losing his twin sister, every woman who came close to him had made him feel cold, irritated, or completely indifferent.

Last night was different. Donald slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his fingers unconsciously brushing the place where Rita had been sleeping.

For the first time in two decades, he found himself wanting to enjoy the comfort again.

****

Rita stormed into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her with more force than she intended. The moment she was alone, all the frustration she had been suppressing erupted. She snatched the nearest pillow and hit it repeatedly, each strike accompanied by an angry complaint.

"Arrogant man!"

"I stayed up all night because of you!"

"I was worried sick!. "And the first thing you do is accuse me of breaking the contract?”.

She buried her face into the pillow and groaned loudly. "Unbelievable!"

She had genuinely believed that after what happened the previous night, will make Donald start seeing her differently. She had expected at least a simple "thank you" or even an acknowledgment that she had helped him. Instead, he had dismissed her as if she had committed a serious offense.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. "Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms. "From today onward, I will only do exactly what's written in that contract. Nothing more. If he collapses again..."

Just then, a gentle knock interrupted her thoughts. "Mrs. Hart?" Emma's voice sounded from outside the room.

Rita inhaled deeply before composing herself. "Come in."

Emma stepped inside with her usual respectful smile, though her eyes immediately noticed the pillow lying on the floor. She wisely pretended not to see it.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hart. Breakfast has been prepared."

Rita shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

Emma hesitated before speaking again. "Young Master specifically instructed me to make sure you have breakfast."

Rita scoffed softly. "He suddenly cares whether I eat?" She muttered in a low voice.

Emma offered an awkward smile. "He also left additional instructions." She stepped forward and respectfully presented a sleek black card with both hands. "Young Master asked me to accompany you shopping today."

Rita stared at the black card resting in Emma's palm before slowly picking it up. Even without looking closely, she recognized the prestigious emblem engraved on its surface. It was no ordinary bank card. "For what?" she asked quietly.

Emma answered politely. "He instructed me to purchase everything you may need before tonight."

Rita almost dropped the card. "Everything?" Emma nodded. "Clothing, handbags, shoes, jewelry, cosmetics... anything necessary."

Rita immediately shook her head and placed the card back into Emma's hand. "No."

Emma looked troubled. "Mrs. Hart.”

"I'm serious." Rita smiled politely.

Emma's expression became increasingly anxious. "Please don't refuse."

Rita frowned. "Why?"

Emma lowered her head nervously. "If I fail to complete the tasks Young Master assigns me, I will be penalized. I may lose my position."

Rita sighed helplessly. She looked at Emma's worried face and instantly found herself in a difficult position. She had no desire to spend Donald's money, yet she also couldn't bear the thought of someone else getting into trouble because of her stubbornness.

"You're putting me in an impossible situation," Rita murmured.

Emma smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hart. But Young Master rarely changes his mind."

Rita glanced once more at the black card before finally letting out a defeated sigh. "Fine!"

Emma's face instantly brightened. "Thank you, Mrs. Hart."