TITLE:BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND

Chapter 5: BOARD MEETING & BREAKFAST

Monday morning. 7:03 AM.

Ava woke up to silence.

The guest room was bigger than her entire apartment in Queens.

White sheets. Silk pillow.

Floor-to-ceiling windows with Manhattan below.

And it was empty.

She lay there, remembering.

The kiss. The contract. $5,000,000.

6 months. "Be my wife."

She threw the blanket off and got up.

No designer dress. Just dark jeans, cream blouse, and her only blazer.

H&M. $49.99.

She was Mrs. Carter now, but she didn’t know what that meant.

The penthouse was quiet. Marble floors. Art on the walls.

The kitchen was bigger than the diner she worked at.

A chef in white was flipping pancakes.

"Mrs. Carter," he bowed. "Mr. Carter said you like coffee. Black. Two sugars.

And pancakes with berries."

Ava blinked. "He said that?"

"6:45 AM, ma’am."

Ava sat at a table for 12 people. Alone.

Her phone buzzed.

`Victoria: Enjoying the free food, waitress? The pancakes won’t last.

Neither will the marriage. Count the days. -V`

Ava deleted it. But the words stayed.

Count the days.

Footsteps behind her.

Ethan.

Gray suit. White shirt. No tie. Sleeves rolled up.

Dark circles. Jaw tight. He looked like he didn’t sleep.

"You’re up early," he said. Voice rough.

"So are you," Ava said.

He poured coffee. Black. No sugar.

Sat across from her. Too close.

For the first time, it was just them. No cameras. No contract.

"Board meeting at 9," Ethan said.

Ava almost choked. "What?"

"They want to meet you."

"Because you’re my wife. And because the board thinks I married a gold digger."

Ava’s hands shook. "Ethan, I’m a waitress. I don’t do boardrooms."

Ethan looked at her. Really looked.

"Then don’t be a waitress," he said quietly.

"Be my wife."

The word hit her chest. Wife.

Not contract wife. My wife.

"I don’t know what to say," Ava whispered.

"Say the truth," Ethan said. "You’re smart. You’re tougher than all of them.

Just don’t let them see you sweat."

He stood. "10 minutes. Wear a blazer.

And Ava?" He paused at the door.

"Don’t let them break you."

Then he was gone.

---

The boardroom was on the 80th floor of Carter Enterprises.

Glass walls. City below.

Long mahogany table. 12 men in $10,000 suits.

All staring when the doors opened.

Ava walked in beside Ethan. Borrowed Armani blazer. Pinching heels.

Whispers.

"That’s her."

"$5 million."

"Gentlemen," Ethan’s voice cut through. Cold.

"This is Ava Carter. My wife."

Mr. Reynolds stood. Silver hair. Mean eyes.

"Mr. Carter. Three days ago you were with Victoria Hayes.

Now you’re married to someone we’ve never met?"

Ethan didn’t flinch. He took Ava’s hand. Squeezed once.

Then put his hand on the small of her back.

Possessive. Claiming.

"And now I’m married," Ethan said.

"Ava graduated from NYU in Business.

She’s worked 3 jobs for 4 years to pay her mother’s medical bills.

She knows more about surviving than anyone here."

Ava stared at him. He knew about her mom? About NYU?

Reynolds scoffed. "Nice. But what value does she bring to a $40 billion company?"

The room went quiet. Waiting for her to fail.

Ava stepped forward. Mouth dry.

"Actually sir," her voice was steady.

"I checked your Q3 reports. Public ones."

Reynolds raised an eyebrow.

"Your hotel chain loses $2.1 million a year on room service after 11 PM.

But 40% of guests order Uber Eats and DoorDash anyway."

She showed her phone. A chart she made at 2 AM.

"If you partner with 3 local restaurants per city. 20% commission.

No kitchen staff. No waste.

You turn a $2.1M loss into $4.3M profit in year one."

Silence.

Then Reynolds sat down.

"Huh. That’s... not stupid."

A few men nodded. One wrote it down.

Ethan’s lips twitched. Small smile just for her.

"See? Told you she was mine for a reason."

Mine. Again.

The meeting ended 20 minutes later.

In the hallway, Ethan stopped. Leaned down to her ear.

"Not bad, Mrs. Carter," he murmured.

"You earned their respect. And mine."

Ava couldn’t breathe.

---

Back at the penthouse. 2 PM.

Ava was in the kitchen making toast. Hands still shaking.

The fridge opened behind her.

Ethan. Water bottle in hand. Watching her.

"You did good today," he said quietly.

Ava turned. "You didn’t have to lie about the degree."

"I didn’t lie," Ethan said. "My assistant pulled your file.

You were one class short. Dropped out for your mom."

Ava froze. "You investigated me?"

"I protected my investment," Ethan said. But his eyes were soft.

"Contract doesn’t mean I let people attack you.

Victoria won’t try that balcony thing again."

Ava swallowed. "Because of yesterday?"

Ethan set the water down. Hard.

"Because you’re mine for 6 months," he said. Low.

"On paper. In public. In this house.

That means nobody gets to hurt you. Nobody."

The kitchen went quiet.

Heavy. Like before a storm.

Her phone buzzed.

A photo. Her walking into Carter Tower this morning.

`@NYCGossipAnonymous: Who is the new Mrs. Carter?

$5M contract? #GoldDigger #FakeWife`

Ava’s hands shook. "They’re already—"

Ethan snatched the phone.

His fingers brushed hers. Warm.

He deleted it. Blocked the account.

"Let them talk," he said. Voice rough.

"You have me, Ava. That’s all that matters."

You have me.

The words hung between them.

Ava looked up. CEO. Billionaire. Cold to the world.

And for 2 seconds she forgot the contract.

Forgot the $5,000,000.

She just saw a man who was protecting her.

Then Ethan cleared his throat. Stepped back.

"I have calls," he said. "Gala at 7 PM. Charity event.

Wear the red dress. The Valentino."

He started to leave, then stopped.

"And Ava? Try to smile tonight. Like you mean it."

He left.

Ava stood alone.

The toast was burning.

Rule #1: No feelings.

She was failing.

And somewhere in the city, Victoria was smiling.

Because the war had just started.