Chapter 179

Chapter 179
Olivia's POV

I woke up wrapped in tangled sheets, a delicious soreness radiating through my body. Memories of last night flooded back—Maxwell bringing me home from the Carlyle, the intensity in his eyes when he kissed me. What followed in my bedroom had been hours of the most passionate lovemaking I'd ever experienced.

"God, that man knows what he's doing," I whispered to myself, then giggled at how ridiculous I sounded. I pressed my face into the pillow to muffle my laughter. The last thing I needed was Maxwell walking in and catching me acting like a lovesick teenager.

Rolling onto my back, I reached for my phone and saw Josie had sent a picture of herself walking Cookie in Central Park. I could just make out Dylan's hand holding hers at the edge of the frame. Those two were so disgustingly cute together it almost hurt.

I grinned and quickly typed: [Look at you three—the perfect little family on your morning walk! But, well, I don't have to be jealous anymore... 😏]

Josie's response came almost immediately: [What?! Are you saying...]

My fingers flew over the screen: [That's right! Maxwell and I are ACTUALLY husband and wife now! No more contract marriage BS!]

[OMG tell me EVERYTHING], came her reply.

[Once I found out his whole distant act was because he was afraid his medical condition might hurt me, everything changed. So I arranged the gigolo thing to see if he really cared—and BOY did he! You should've seen his face when he burst into that hotel room.]

[Wow! That's so romantic in a crazy way!]
[BTW, when did you realize you had feelings for him?] she asked.

I paused, thinking. [I don't know exactly. Maybe when he started playing those boring business meetings to help me sleep? Or when he held my hand during that ultrasound? It just... happened.]

[You two are giving me LIFE right now,] Josie wrote. [Dylan's going to be thrilled—he was low-key worried about you.]

I scrolled through a few other notifications before stretching and climbing out of bed. My lower back protested just like it had that night at the Carlyle Hotel, reminding me of just how thorough Maxwell had been. I couldn't help smiling as I headed to the bathroom.

After showering and dressing, I stepped into the hallway and spotted Maxwell at the end of the corridor. He was holding Avery, our son gurgling happily in his arms while the nanny hovered nearby, taking the empty bottle Avery had just finished.

When Maxwell saw me, something changed in his expression. He handed Avery to the nanny and walked toward me with purpose in his stride.

"Your marriage contract—do you still have it?" he asked without preamble.

I nodded, surprised by the question. "In my safe."

He took my hand, his grip warm and sure. "Get it."

Standing in front of my safe, I glanced back at Maxwell, who watched intently as I dialed the combination. I pulled out the contract I'd buried at the bottom and hadn't looked at since signing it. He took it without a word and led me to his study.

I realized his own copy was already waiting on his desk.

Without hesitation, Maxwell took both copies of our marriage contract—the legal document that had defined our relationship as a business arrangement with an expiration date—and fed them into the shredder beside his desk.

I watched, mesmerized, as the paper that had once governed every aspect of our relationship was reduced to confetti.

When he turned to face me, his eyes were softer than I'd ever seen them. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close.

"From now on," he said, his voice low and certain, "our marriage will be like everyone else's."

I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips as I looped my arms around his neck. "Going to the office today?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, pulling me tighter against him. "No. We have a honeymoon to catch up on."

Andrew's POV

I leaned against the wall outside the conference room, watching Harrison Group executives file out, muttering theories about why Mr. Harrison had missed two consecutive meetings—something unprecedented in company history. Ryan was fielding their questions with practiced deflection, and I fought to keep my expression neutral.

Once the last executive disappeared down the hall, Ryan closed the door and leaned against it, giving me a knowing look.

"You've orchestrated the boss and Mrs. Harrison's happily-ever-after. Why do you still look like someone's about to fire you?"

I couldn't explain the knot in my stomach. Yes, Mr. Harrison and his wife had resolved their misunderstanding and were likely enjoying marital bliss right now—thanks in no small part to my meddling. But that was precisely the problem. I'd interfered in my boss's personal life in a significant way.

"The boss doesn't appreciate people manipulating him," I said, checking my phone for the tenth time that hour. "Even if it works out well."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "He's too busy being happy with Mrs. Harrison to bother with punishing you."

I wasn't convinced. Mr. Harrison had a long memory, especially for perceived betrayals. Revealing his medical condition to Mrs. Harrison without permission definitely qualified.

My phone suddenly chimed. I nearly dropped it in my haste to check the message.

From Mr. Harrison: [Year-end bonus doubled. See Finance Department.]

The tension drained from my body so quickly I felt lightheaded. I pocketed my phone and straightened my tie, suddenly feeling like I could breathe properly for the first time all morning.

"Let's go get lunch," I told Ryan, nudging him with my elbow as I walked toward the door. "My treat."

Ryan pushed away from the wall, his eyebrows raised. "So the boss isn't planning revenge after all?"

I laughed, feeling genuinely happy. "The boss has a real Mrs. Harrison now. He's got better things to do than deal with small fry like me."

Ryan made a little clicking sound with his tongue as we waited for the elevator. "Well, well. Looks like playing Cupid has its rewards."

As the elevator doors closed, I smiled to myself. Sometimes, the most stubborn people just needed a little push in the right direction. And sometimes, those pushes actually worked out for everyone involved—myself included.