My Contract Husband Has Six Months To Live

Chapter 9

A short while later, Rita reluctantly joined Emma in the dining room. The breakfast spread looked extravagant enough to feed an entire family. Freshly baked croissants, fluffy pancakes drizzled with maple syrup, scrambled eggs, grilled sausages, assorted fruits, yogurt, freshly squeezed orange juice, and aromatic coffee filled the long dining table.

Butler Jay was already waiting nearby with a gentle smile. "Good morning, Madam."

Rita smiled politely. "Good morning, Butler Jay."

"Young Master instructed us to make sure you finish your breakfast before leaving."

Rita couldn't help rolling her eyes inwardly. "He certainly likes giving orders."

Jay chuckled softly but wisely chose not to comment. Emma pulled out a chair for Rita, who finally sat down and began eating.

To her surprise, the food was delicious. Between bites, Jay casually informed her that Donald had already left for the company shortly after making several phone calls.

Rita simply nodded without asking further questions. She was still upset with him, after all. Once breakfast was finished, Emma led Rita toward the front entrance where a luxurious black sedan was already waiting. The driver immediately opened the rear door upon seeing them.

Rita hesitated before getting inside. As the vehicle pulled away from the Hart Villa, she looked back through the rear window at the massive mansion slowly disappearing from view. It had only been a few days since she married Donald, yet her life had changed beyond recognition.

She still couldn't understand the man she now called her husband. One moment, he could quietly arrange a safe home for her family, cover every expense without complaint, and ensure her father could never harass them again. The next moment, he became an emotionless stranger who chased her out of his bedroom as though she meant nothing. "What kind of person are you, Donald Hart?" she whispered to herself.

Emma, sitting beside her, glanced over curiously but chose not to interrupt Rita's thoughts. In her experience working with the Hart family, she knew that Donald was not someone easy to handle. It was expected of his wife to go nuts over his behaviour.

Nearly forty minutes later, the sedan pulled into the private entrance of one of the city's most prestigious luxury shopping centers. Uniformed attendants immediately stepped forward to greet them, clearly recognizing the Hart family vehicle.

The store manager hurried toward the entrance, with several employees following. "Welcome, Mrs. Hart," he greeted respectfully with a slight bow.

Rita nearly stopped walking. That title still felt foreign every time someone addressed her that way.

Emma smiled reassuringly before quietly saying, "They're expecting us."

The manager gestured elegantly toward the exclusive VIP section. "Young Master Hart informed us of your visit earlier this morning. Everything has been prepared."

Before Rita could respond, several assistants appeared carrying racks filled with designer dresses, elegant business suits, handbags, shoes, and sparkling jewelry.

Rita's eyes widened. "All... all of this?"

Emma smiled knowingly. "These are just some samples."

Rita looked around at the overwhelming display of luxury before covering her face with one hand. "Mr. Hart," she muttered under her breath. "You are so strange.”

Yet despite her complaint, she couldn't suppress the tiny smile threatening to appear on her lips.

Inside the towering Hart Group headquarters, Donald paused while reviewing important documents. Without any clear reason, the image of Rita sleeping on his bed earlier this morning crossed his mind. The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly before he quickly returned to work, completely unaware that, little by little, the frozen walls around his heart had already begun to c***k.

Michael entered Donald's office with his usual composed expression, a thick file tucked neatly beneath his arm. The spacious office was quiet except for the faint clicking of a keyboard as Donald reviewed a financial report on his computer.

Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the luxurious interior without distracting the man seated behind the massive walnut desk. Without saying a word, Michael placed the file in front of him.

Donald reached for it immediately, flipping through the pages with practiced efficiency. Every signature, every figure, and every proposal received his full attention.

Watching him work, Michael hesitated. He knew there was another matter he needed to bring up, one he had rehearsed several times on the way there.

"Sir," Michael began cautiously after Donald signed the final page, "your schedule for this afternoon is relatively light."

Donald hummed without looking up. Michael cleared his throat before continuing. "I was thinking, perhaps this would be a good opportunity to visit Dr. Stevens."

The office fell silent.

Michael had expected the familiar cold refusal or perhaps an icy glare that would end the conversation immediately.

Instead, Donald calmly closed the file and leaned back in his chair. He remained quiet for several long seconds before speaking. "Arrange it."

Michael blinked in disbelief. "Sir?" Donald lifted his eyes toward him. "Didn't you hear me? Arrange the appointment."

For the first time in years, Michael was completely speechless. Every previous attempt to persuade Donald to see the doctor had failed miserably. Donald either canceled the appointment or walked out before the consultation even began. This sudden agreement felt almost unreal.

Michael quickly regained his composure. "Sometimes, you can so weird boss”

“Are you saying something?”

“Not at all, I will contact Dr. Stevens immediately." A faint smile almost appeared on his face before he restrained it.

Donald spoke before Michael could become too optimistic. "Don't get your hopes up.”

Michael stopped. "Em?"

Donald looked toward the city skyline outside his office window. "Agreeing to meet him doesn't mean anything has changed." His voice remained calm, almost detached. "I'm simply... curious."

"Oh, boss, I will warn my hopes not to get high," Michael replied jokingly.

"The doctor will be informed." Donald gave a slight nod. Michael bowed politely before leaving the office, quietly closing the door behind him.

The silence returned almost immediately. His memories disappeared almost every morning, yet one memory refused to fade. He remembered waking beside Rita. He remembered her sleeping peacefully. More importantly, he remembered the comfort he had felt simply knowing she had remained with him through the night. Apart from the memories of his late twin sister, no one had ever remained so vividly in his mind after one of his episodes. "Why?" he whispered to himself. "Why do I remember you?" The question lingered in the empty office, unanswered.

Far away from the towering Hart Group headquarters, another building stood hidden from the bustling city. This place was wrapped in silence and darkness. Thick curtains blocked every ray of sunlight from entering the spacious room. The only source of light came from a single lamp placed near a polished wooden desk.

A tall man dressed entirely in black stood with his back facing the entrance. His hands rested calmly behind him as though he had been waiting. The door opened quietly. Another man entered before respectfully lowering his head. "MR greets you, sir."

The man in black didn't turn around. His deep voice echoed through the room. "MR... any updates?"

MR stepped forward without raising his head. "Yes, sir." He opened a small folder and began his report. "Donald Hart's condition continues to deteriorate. According to our source, the doctors estimate he has approximately six months left to live."

The room became eerily quiet.

The man in black slowly chuckled. It wasn't a cheerful laugh. It was cold, almost sinister. "Six months..." he repeated softly. "Fate is finally becoming interesting."

MR continued. "There is another development." The man in black remained silent, signaling him to proceed. "Donald Hart appears to have developed an unusual attachment toward his wife. Although the marriage happened unexpectedly, our surveillance indicates she has already begun influencing his daily routine."

The man in black finally turned around, though his face remained hidden beneath the shadows cast by the dim lighting. Only the faint outline of a cruel smile could be seen. "His wife..." he murmured thoughtfully. "How unexpected."

He walked slowly toward the window, looking through the narrow gap between the curtains. "Even a man who has shut his heart away for years has finally found someone." His laugh echoed once more. "Interesting."

MR remained perfectly still, awaiting further instructions.

After a long silence, the man spoke again. "Keep watching them."

"Yes, sir." "Do not interfere."

MR nodded respectfully. "Understood." The man folded his hands behind his back once more. "There may come a day when his precious little wife becomes useful to us." His smile widened slightly. "Until then we wait."

MR bowed deeply. "I understand, sir."

Without another word, he turned and quietly left the room, the heavy door closing behind him.

Silence returned once again. The mysterious man stood alone in the darkness, his fingers lightly tapping against the cold glass of the window. His gaze seemed fixed on something far beyond the city skyline. He picked up a crystal glass resting on the nearby table and slowly swirled the dark liquid inside before taking a small sip.

The corners of his lips curled into a smile filled with years of resentment and hatred. "The Hart..." he whispered into the empty room. His voice was calm, yet every word carried a chilling promise. "Your end... is near."