All Chapters of Billionaire's Accidental Wife: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

After a day of fussing, Shawn's grandfather was declared out of danger by his doctors, who stated that he wouldn't be able to speak to anyone else until he was out of the ICU. After a day of worrying, he drove Catherine home but was too tired to drive back to the hospital, so he decided to rest at her small apartment. The next morning Knock. Knock. The last pound on the door jolts Catherine upright. She squinted and shielded her eyes from the beams of light streaking across the room. What the hell? It’s daylight now. Her mouth was parched; a cold taste was thick on her tongue. She didn't remember falling asleep. On a yawn, she stretched her limbs, feeling the muscles release. Then another sound stopped her heart. Snoring. The fuck? Shawn Richmond? Sprawled out on his stomach, her secret husband lies shirtless and in only his boxers. "Hey! Catherine, open the door! This is my room!" Dave, her brother, screamed. More knocking. Pounding. Shit. Dave’s home. "Mr. Richmond, get up."

  The next morning, Catherine went to Mr. Richmond's office to get all the things that needed to be taken care of before going to his mansion. After all, he told her that the COVID-19 lockdown would start next week, and by then she needed to sort things out and bring all her stuff to the mansion. To say that she was not excited was an understatement because, in reality, she was thrilled.    Half an hour later, Mr. Richmond's gaze pierced right through Catherine as he reappeared in the hallway. Her chest squeezed, and the discomfort between her shoulder blades hissed. Call her stupid, but she had a boredom breakdown yesterday and so she cleaned her and Dave's rooms for hours, and the heavy lifting was making its way to her shoulder now.   However, she had less than two days to get herself sorted, plenty of time befor

 She tried calling him, but he was out of reach. What trouble are you in now, Dave? A shot of sorrow impaled her. A temporary luxury of self-sympathy pulled her through. If she’d known she would have ended up broke anyway, she should’ve stopped cleaning her own room years ago and employed assistance. Dammit! This was way worse than she thought. Two years ago, her own life savings had been cleaned out by Jason, and now, her own brother? What the hell was happening in her life? A girl could dream big, but really? She would have used it for her decent future and now had nothing. She was broke and could not even pay her bill.Or better yet, she should’ve spent extravagantly on parties, clothing, make-up, and expensive shoes. She should’ve taken holidays to some warm, exotic places like Dubai, or whatever. She heard

"Mr. Richmond, these are my problems and my family. You don't have any right to get yourself tangled up with my own concerns.""How naive can you get, Miss Brown?""Please stay away from my problems. I'm keeping things going. You have a company to worry about. This COVID-19 will take a toll in the hotel industry. We must get ready." came out in a sigh. The muscles between her shoulder blades pulled taut.His expression loosened up as he stared at her. "How are you really? You looked tense." Shawn thought he knew Miss Brown was anxious about her brother, a lucky bastard. Shawn never had someone like her to worry about him. Aside from his grandfather, his many cousins and relatives were nothing but leeches and parasites. In his 30 years of existence, he and his relatives had lived a privileged, wealthy life, but he lacked security and love. For them, he was nothing but an ATM. However, Shawn's upbringing has been one of constant power games and betrayals. He now runs his family’s fortune

  Catherine was excited about the trip. Shawn had given her an hour to pack her luggage for the three-day holiday, and sure, it was not a tropical beach or island, but the change of scenery would do her good, and she was looking forward to escaping her obligations for two whole days. No morning calls, online meetings, or scheduling of her boss's too busy life. She would relinquish the holiday, because on Monday she knew the real work load was coming. For forty-eight stress-free hours, without anyone or anything getting in the way. When she was in college, she drove a beat-up old Toyota that Dave fixed up himself. Hell, her brother rebuilt the entire engine on that old thing—twice. Nowadays, she was not driving anymore; the subway, cabs, and buses were way, way better. Her amateur salary wasn’t even that much compared to what other blue-collar females were raking in, and yet it was still more