Page 84 of My Big, Fat, Accidental Billionaire Husband

“You were brilliant,” he interrupts softly, his voice soft but intense. He looks around to make sure no one is listening, then leans in closer. “That answer about the future... where did that come from?”

I blink, surprised by the sudden shift. “I don’t know. I just... said what felt right in the moment.”

“Well, it worked. He was impressed.” Dom’s eyes search mine. “I think we may have just salvaged Monday’s disaster.”

“So there was a disaster?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Later, I promise. But right now, Camilla is signaling that we need to circulate.” His hand slides to the small of my back again, but something feels different. Like it’s less performative and more natural. “Together?”

The word hangs between us, weighted with more meaning than it should carry.

“Together,” I agree, and we move back into the crowd, a united front.

Something has shifted between us. For those few minutes with Mr. Chung, we weren’t just playing at being partners. We were actually functioning as a team. Protecting each other’s narratives. Filling in gaps. Reading cues.

It felt... real. Again.

And that’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Ten more days,I remind myself as we approach another group of glittering socialites.

But as Dom’s hand guides me through the crowd, steady and sure, I can’t help wondering if endings are always as simple as they seem.

24

Dominic

The city lights blur as we ride back to the penthouse, the remnants of the gala still clinging to us like expensive perfume. Tatiana sits beside me in the back of the town car, the emerald silk of her dress shifting like liquid in the darkness. We barely speak during the ride, but it’s not the tense silence from earlier days. It’s something else, something I’m not ready to name.

Jake and Nichols are riding in the follow car, while Ric is driving. I catch Ric’s eyes in the rearview mirror once, a subtle questioning look that I answer with an equally subtle nod.

Everything’s fine. Under control.

But is it?

Ten days. That’s all that remains of this marriage, this facade, this accident. Seven or eight days until the Costa Rica deal closes. We’re going to make it just in time.

Then we can file the annulment papers and return to our separate lives.

It should feel like a relief, a countdown to freedom.

Instead, it feels like I’m on death row.

“That went better than expected,” Tatiana says, breaking the silence as the car pulls into the loading zone of my building.

“Yes,” I agree, my voice carefully neutral. “Chung seemed satisfied. That was the goal.”

“Is that all you have to say?” She turns to face me, the motion causing her dress to whisper against the leather seat. “We were pretty convincing tonight.”

Too convincing, maybe. The way she talked about our future, about challenging me, about balancing spreadsheets and sustainability metrics while raising a family... it had felt real. More real than anything should feel in this situation.

“We did what was necessary,” I say as the car stops. “That’s what we agreed to.”

Her expression flickers with something I can’t quite read, but before she can respond, Nichols opens her door. The moment passes.

We ride up to the penthouse in silence, standing closer than necessary in the elevator. I’m acutely aware of her presence, the scent of her perfume, the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. When the doors open, I step back to let her exit first, watching as she moves through the shared hallway with a familiarity that both pleases and unsettles me.

We reach my penthouse and I swipe my card to enter.

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