Chapter 171

Maxwell's POV

I sat in my study, the door cracked open just enough to let a sliver of light escape into the hallway. Between my fingers, a cigarette slowly burned, its smoke creating lazy patterns in the air around me. The darkness outside seemed to press against the windows, as if trying to infiltrate the room.

My phone vibrated. Incoming call from the head of our European division.

"Mr. Harrison," he began, his voice carrying that particular tension people adopt when they're afraid of disappointing me. "Should we proceed with tonight's scheduled video conference, sir?"

I could picture him perfectly—standing in our Paris boardroom, surrounded by executives who'd been waiting for nearly thirty minutes, all of them afraid to leave without my explicit dismissal.

The smoke from my cigarette curled upward, momentarily obscuring my vision. I remained silent, letting the weight of the moment stretch between us.

"Tell everyone to go home," I finally said, my voice low and flat. "We'll reschedule."

"Yes, sir. Right away, Mr. Harrison."

The call ended abruptly. On my laptop screen, the video conference window closed, participants' names disappearing one by one. I made no move to extinguish my cigarette or close my computer.

Instead, I sat motionless, watching as the smoke grew thicker around me, a physical manifestation of my clouded thoughts. The corridor lights outside my study flickered—on, off, on again—as the motion sensors struggled to determine if anyone was still moving through the house at this late hour.

Eventually, they surrendered to darkness, leaving only the cold blue glow from my study to illuminate a small portion of the hallway outside.

Night had completely enveloped the estate. The world beyond my windows had disappeared into blackness. I remained at my desk, lost in contemplation, surrounded by smoke and silence.

Only one door away, Olivia lay awake in her bedroom. I knew this without seeing her—her insomnia had become as familiar to me as my own restlessness. But tonight, for the first time since we'd begun this arrangement, I made no move to invite her into my study.

The terms of our contract were clear from the beginning. Simple, straightforward, limited in duration. Yet somehow, in the execution of those terms, complications had arisen that neither of us had anticipated.

My cigarette had burned down to the filter. I extinguished it, watching as the final wisp of smoke dissolved into nothingness.

Olivia's POV

I stared at the clock on my phone: 11:00 PM. Another night of tossing and turning with sleep nowhere in sight.

The massive king bed felt ridiculously empty, and the silence in my bedroom was deafening. I'd been lying here for over two hours, cycling through every sleeping position known to mankind, counting sheep, deep breathing—all the usual tricks that were supposed to cure insomnia.

Nothing worked.

I grabbed my phone and texted Josie: You still up? Is Dylan there? Her reply came quickly: Dylan's out of town. I'm still awake. Without hesitation, I hit the call button.

"Olivia?" Josie answered, surprise evident in her voice. "You're still awake?"

I let out a long sigh, sinking deeper into my pillows. "Can't sleep."

"Is Maxwell traveling again?" she asked.

"No," I replied, my voice unnaturally flat.

"Then why not go to his study and listen to his business meetings? Worked like a charm during your pregnancy, didn't it? Or has that stopped being effective?"

I didn't know how to explain what was happening. I'd planned to organize my thoughts, to present the situation logically, but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was:

"He's home."

Josie, who knew me better than anyone, immediately sensed something was wrong. Instead of pressing directly, she approached from another angle.

"Did you two have a fight? Or..." her tone shifted to teasing, "has our Miss Reed spotted someone she'd rather be with, eager to end this contractual marriage?"

I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache brewing. "No, nothing like that."

The emotional dam broke, and words poured out of me: "That's the crazy thing, Josie. Before this arrangement, all I wanted was freedom. Freedom to date whoever I wanted, maybe find some adorable younger guy who'd worship the ground I walk on. But now that I actually could do that—the contract doesn't prevent outside relationships—I find I don't want to."

I paused, surprised by my own confession.

"When that grad student asked me out last week, I turned him down immediately. He was exactly my type—exactly what I thought I wanted—and yet..."

Silence stretched between us. Finally, Josie asked the question I'd been avoiding.

"If you had to continue this arrangement with Maxwell forever, would you be okay with that?"

My fingers froze where they'd been massaging my temples. The question echoed in my mind, demanding an answer I wasn't prepared to give.

"I don't know," I finally whispered. "I honestly don't know, Josie. I haven't thought that far ahead."

During my pregnancy, I'd focused solely on delivering a healthy baby. After Avery was born, I was just excited to reclaim my freedom, to go shopping and meet friends without feeling exhausted. The future—the end of our three-year contract—seemed distant and abstract.

"Besides," I added, trying to sound practical, "insomnia can happen anytime. After our contract expires, I can hardly knock on Maxwell's door asking to sit in his study while he conducts business calls, can I?"

Josie remained quiet for a moment, no doubt reading between the lines of my non-answer. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle but direct.

"Since his meetings seem to have this magical sleep-inducing effect on you, have you considered extending the contract?"

I blinked. "For how long?"

"That's entirely up to you," she said softly. "If you wanted, it could be for life. To everyone else, you're already in a traditional marriage. And you share Avery—that's a connection that will never break."

After we hung up, I sat in bed for a long time, staring at nothing. Somewhere in the early hours of morning, I dozed off into a fitful sleep, only to wake again as dawn broke.

I checked my phone, seeing the record of our nearly thirty-minute conversation from the night before. This time, I didn't allow myself to overthink. I got dressed, washed my face, and headed downstairs, rehearsing what I wanted to say to Maxwell.

But as I descended the spiral staircase, I heard Andrew speaking to Maxwell in the foyer, mentioning that the plane was ready. My steps faltered.

"You're traveling?" I asked, approaching them.

Maxwell turned, surprise briefly crossing his features at seeing me up so early—barely 6 AM.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes lingering momentarily on the dark circles under mine. "There's a project at our European office that requires my attention."

I didn't respond, suddenly unsure of what to say.

Maxwell was already dressed for travel, with Andrew and Ryan waiting nearby. Before stepping out, he turned to me again.

"I might be gone for one to two weeks. I've already instructed the nanny and Martha about Avery's care. If you need anything during my absence, call me directly or speak with Lawrence."

Martha watched this exchange with evident concern, no doubt noticing how a couple who had grown surprisingly close during my pregnancy had somehow drifted apart again.

After Maxwell left, Martha approached with a tablet in her hands.

"Mrs. Harrison," she said, extending it toward me. "Mr. Harrison left this for you."

I took it mechanically, my mood dampened by his departure. It wasn't until I turned on the screen that my fingers froze in surprise.

There, neatly organized, were at least ten audio recordings. Business meetings. Conference calls. Discussions in French.

He'd recorded them all for me. So I could sleep while he was away.

I stared at the screen, a complicated emotion rising in my chest—one I wasn't ready to name.