The billionaire contract ex-wife

Chapter4

Amera POV

It had been almost two weeks since I moved into Adrian’s mansion, and it still felt unreal. Like a dream I prayed I’d never wake up from. The house was so vast I could actually get lost inside.

The entrance hall soared upward, crowned by a chandelier that caught the light like frozen fire. Marble floors echoed beneath each step, leading into corridors that seemed endless. Staircases curved elegantly to the upper levels, their banisters polished smooth by what must have been generations of hands.

I wasn’t used to this kind of life. I’d always lived simply. We managed with what we had, and we were happy.

Adrian and I didn’t talk. We moved through the house like ghosts—like neither of us existed to the other. He didn’t care about me, and I didn’t care about him. Honestly, I preferred it that way.

He was always busy, going to work every single day. The only time I saw him was at breakfast. Always in a suit. Always serious. Too serious. I’d started calling him “Mr. Too Serious” in my head—though I’d never dare say it to his face.

I woke up that morning, brushed my teeth, showered, and went through my usual routine. Then I headed downstairs to make breakfast.

As I was frying eggs, Paulinah walked in—heels clicking in a steady rhythm, head high, like she owned the place.

“Good morning, Adrian,” she said with a bright smile, her hand lingering on his shoulder a little too long.

“Morning,” he replied flatly. No smile. That was Adrian—always controlled, never wasting emotions.

I sat at the table sipping my coffee, but Paulinah’s eyes kept drifting to me. Staring. Again and again.

Hasn’t she seen a beautiful woman lately? I was annoyed by the way she kept fixing her gaze on me, but I didn’t say anything. I knew she was trying to provoke me, daring me to react.

But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

Finally, I couldn’t help myself. “Are you really that jobless?” I muttered with a smirk.

“What about you?” she shot back instantly.

Got her. I smiled wider, pleased that I’d gotten under her skin.

“Enough!” Adrian’s voice cut through the room like a whip.

Neither of us said another word. But I was ready for her. If she wanted to go low, I’d go lower. I was fully prepared to drag her straight to hell if it came to that.

One evening after dinner, I wandered outside. I wanted to explore the grounds a bit more.

The courtyard opened up around a grand fountain at its center. The air smelled fresh—cut grass and blooming flowers from the surrounding gardens. I took it all in, walking slowly, appreciating every angle.

“Hey, Amera.”

I froze. His voice.

I turned. Adrian was standing near the fountain. He’d been watching me.

“What?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

He walked toward me. “I have a question for you.”

“I’m listening.”

His jaw clenched. He looked like he was debating whether or not to say it. Then he did. “My grandfather is paying for your mother’s hospital bills, isn’t he?”

My stomach dropped. How did he find out? Though, of course—he’s a Blackwood. He has the power and money to dig up anything.

“And so?” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “Look, I’m not here because I want to be. I’m here for my mother. I didn’t have a choice. I don’t care if I risk my future as long as she’s okay and happy.”

He stared at me for a long moment without speaking. I hated that I’d let my guard down, even a little.

“Does she mean that much to you? Enough to throw your future away?” His voice was low, serious.

Anger flared in my chest. “I see you’ve never been loved at home,” I snapped. “Yes, I would risk my life for her over and over again. She means everything to me.”

The words hit him. I saw something flicker in his eyes—just for a second—before he straightened his expression. Of course. Mr. Too Serious never showed weakness.

“Well, that’s your problem,” he said coldly. “Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. I don’t care about your business.”

I nodded. “Of course not.”

I made sure to swallow the tears threatening to rise before he could see them. I wouldn’t give him that.

I went straight to my room after that. And then I cried. I let it all out—every bit of frustration, sadness, and exhaustion I’d been holding in.

I felt pathetic.

How could he ask me that question without even flinching?

But I knew exactly why I was here. And I’d do whatever it took to see it through to the end.