All Chapters of A Million-Dollar Marriage: A Story Of Heart Over Contract: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

She blinked skeptically, but complied.“Okay...?” she ventured. “What's this about?”“I once read your file and it says you used to be a masseuse,” he stated matter-of-factly.Gianna seemed caught off guard by the non sequitur, but she brought up a cold-sounding,“So?”But her mind already was able to piece together cues, as to why he must have sent for her.“I want to hire you.”A disbelieving scoff escaped Gianna's lips before she could stop it.“Excuse me? Did you send that woman away just so you could proposition me?”She shook her head with a mixture of incredulity and something dangerously close to intrigue.“Who hires their wife to be their masseuse?”“Technically, you're not a real wife.”For some reason, there was an unexpected pang in her chest as soon as she heard that.“I’m not interested,” she answered firmly.Mason wanted to ask her how much she wanted him to pay her, but then remembered she didn’t like it when he did that.“Is there anything I can do to change your mind

She stood there, blinking in disbelief.Who would've thought she'd live to see the day when Finn's room would look like this? From the little she remembered about their childhood, he was the kind of kid who used to organize his bookshelf by color every week. One day he’d gotten mad at her for making a mess of his action figures when he’d carefully lined them up at perfect right angles. She still remembered the Great Lego Incident of '02, when nine-year-old Finn spent three days sorting his entire collection by size, shape, and color.It would be safe to say adulthood happened.Gianna sighed and began to pick up things around the room, picking up his clothes and folding them neatly one by one t-shirt. After dealing with all the heaps of his laundry and sorting them away, she started with the papers and began arranging them as well.She absentmindedly flipped through some of his books, and in one of them, she found a photo of a girl, which was the size of a passport. The girl was around

She stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny pockmarks on the tiles as she had countless times before, waiting for the nurse to return with her discharge papers. Freedom was so close she could taste it, bitter as hospital coffee on her tongue.One month.That's how long she'd been trapped in this white-walled purgatory where her body became a battlefield of needles and blood tests, tissue typing, and unending consultations with doctors, just so she could save her brother's life.Mason left for a business trip exactly a month ago, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because his trip coincided with the bulk of her pre-transplant preparations, hence sparing her the need for elaborate excuses or awkward questions. A curse, because there were moments, usually in the dead of night when the hospital corridors fell quiet, that Gianna found herself thinking about him.Gianna signed the last of her discharge papers and left for home. The bustle of the city outside the window seeme

Bayshore was a name that conjured images of rolling hills, babbling brooks, and quaint little cottages. It was a dying town appearing as a speck on the map that was clinging to existence by its fingernails in the ass-end of nowhere. But to Mason Caldwell, it might as well be the promised land. Mason established yet another charity organization called Greenhaven Foundation just so he could breathe new life into this small town and give it a proper atmosphere for his new business. He would dump some cash into rebuilding the crumbling Main Street and maybe slap his name on a community center or two. As a businessman, Mason knew had to win over the locals and play the part of the humble savior who had come to rescue their dying town from the clutches of poverty and irrelevance for things to run smoothly with his project. Pastor John Holbrook, their host stood at the forefront of the small gathering, holding out his hand for another handshake with Mason, “Oh, it is indeed, Mr. Caldwell

Thump. Thump. Thump.Little feet pounded against the floors like a frantic percussion in the suffocating darkness. And the shadows dancing on the walls were performing a macabre ballet to the erratic beat of a terrified heart.The little girl, with short bob hair pigtails and Minnie Mouse pajamas and wide, fearful eyes darted from room to room to escape from the unseen predator. She entered the room and ran towards the closer. Never mind that it was also the first place anyone would look.She burrowed into the depths of the closet, nestling between musty coats and forgotten boxes. Her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle the sobs that might betray her location.Breathing — in, out, in, out— became a Herculean task as she tried not to scream when she heard the sound of the door opening, and then footsteps.The girl pressed herself further back, as if she could somehow melt into the wall and disappear altogether. Tears flowed freely now, silent rivers carving paths down cheeks flushed