MARRIED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

chapter 3

Katrina pov

"

why is she not picking her call, what happened between her and Max , God help me I said to my self

I tried calling Stacy with my phone, thinking she might answer her best friend, but she did not pick up .

"Mom, please tell your boys to keep looking for her," I pleaded, clutching her arm. "They need to confirm her exact location. If she isn't in France, we need to know immediately."

"Okay, I'll have them double-check everything," she promised, though her eyes betrayed her own deep worry.

I glanced at the grand grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The hands were moving dangerously close to the evening hours. "I want to be going home before my husband gets back," I said, backing away. "I need to be there before him."

I rushed out to the driveway and got into my vehicle. I always chose to drive myself. I just drove my car everywhere because I didn't need a driver, even when my husband insisted on hiring a private chauffeur for my security. Having a driver meant someone was always watching me, always tracking my movements, and I couldn't risk anyone reporting my secret visits to the Lucian estate to Cove.

I stepped on the gas, racing against the setting sun. When I finally turned into the long, gated driveway of the Harrison mansion, I reached my house and parked my car in the garage. I stepped into the quiet foyer and took a deep, shaky breath. *Thank God my husband is not yet back,* I thought, letting out a prayer of pure relief.

I just opened the door, walked into the living room, and sat down a little, trying to force my racing heart to slow down and clear the panic from my face. After a few minutes of gathering my composure, I went straight to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I wanted everything to look perfectly normal, like the doting, peaceful wife he expected.

The food was still on the fire, the savory aroma filling the air, when I heard the heavy front doors open. A smile automatically formed on my lips as my husband, my love, came back into the house. He looked incredibly cute, throwing his briefcase onto the console table and loosening his silk tie.

I walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, and welcomed him with a warm, lingering kiss. He melted into my touch, his strong arms holding me tight against his chest.

"Babe, how are you?" he asked softly, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze filled with genuine care. "How is your body?"

"It's fine, I'm okay now," I replied, forcing a bright smile to assure him that my morning sickness and fatigue had passed. "How was work today?" I asked, trying to sound completely casual.

He stroked my cheek tenderly. "Work was busy as usual, babe," he said. Then, he paused, a sudden remembrance crossing his face. "Oh, and he asked... babe, my mom and dad said we should come for dinner tonight."

My stomach dropped slightly at the thought of facing his elite, high-society parents while my mind was in such chaos, but I knew I couldn't show any hesitation. "Okay," I said softly. I didn't project any objection or argue against it.

We quickly ate a light snack to hold us over, changed into formal attire, and eventually went upstairs to rest, falling asleep with my head resting against his chest.

The next day, Tuesday arrived with a bright burst of sunlight. I woke up early and did my normal housework. Even though Cove was a multi-billionaire, I consistently insisted that I do not need a maid to take care of our private quarters; doing the chores myself kept me grounded, a small reminder of the normal girl I used to be before I stole this life. After a quiet breakfast together, we kissed goodbye and went to our different workplaces in separate vehicles.

The hours dragged by painfully. My mind kept shifting between the mysterious woman at Cove's office and the terrifying reality of the upcoming family dinner.

After closing time, I left my work at exactly 5:00 PM because of the dinner arrangements. My husband did the exact same thing, wrapping up his massive board meetings early. To save time, we met up at his corporate headquarters so we could travel together. We used the same luxury car for the trip, sitting closely in the back seat while the professional driver drove us through the bustling city traffic toward the exclusive gated community where Cove's family lived.

When we reached his parents' house—a breathtaking, sprawling mansion that rivaled a castle—the heavy iron doors were opened for us. We walked into the grand sitting room, where the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and old money.

We greeted his parents warmly, and I forced a polite, perfect smile as I said hello to my sister-in-law too, playing the role of the perfect daughter-in-law flawlessly.

In the background, the family maid started preparing the dinner table, the clinking of fine crystal and silver cutlery echoing from the formal dining room.

We were still standing in the sitting room, chatting quietly about Cove's company, Horizon Dynamics, when a sudden, sharp knock cut through our conversation.

The room grew quiet as a maid went to check the door.

The heavy wood swung open. I turned my head casually to see who the late guest could be, but the moment my eyes landed on the figure stepping into the foyer, the blood completely drained from my face. My breath caught in my throat, and a suffocating, paralyzing horror washed over me.

Behold, standing right there in the doorway, looking elegant, beautiful, and completely real... it was Stacy.