The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 116

Orion

I hadn't slept more than two hours. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind conjured increasingly elaborate scenarios of what could go wrong at the Brew St. Sebastian charming Aveline so thoroughly that she forgot she wanted a divorce. Sebastian revealing something that made her more suspicious. Sebastian being Sebastian and somehow making everything infinitely worse.

By 4 AM, I'd given up on sleep entirely and spent the rest of the night in my study, reviewing quarterly reports I'd already memorized just to keep my hands busy.

The irony wasn't lost on me—I'd hired the perfect man to impersonate me, and now I was terrified he might actually be perfect.

"Sir?" Mitchell appeared in the doorway at precisely 7 AM with coffee and what looked like grim determination. "Your uncle called an emergency board meeting for 11:30. He's pushing for final approval on the Singapore expansion project."

I accepted the coffee gratefully, though my stomach was already twisted in knots. "Of course he did. Devan never met a crisis he couldn't exploit."

"Indeed." Mitchell's tone was carefully neutral. "He's been making calls since yesterday evening, suggesting to the board members that recent... distractions... might be affecting your judgment."

"Recent distractions." I laughed bitterly. "Is that what we're calling my personal life now?"

"I believe his exact words were 'romantic entanglements that compromise leadership focus,'" Mitchell replied diplomatically.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the familiar pressure of trying to balance too many spinning plates at once. The Singapore project was crucial—a $200 million expansion that could secure our Asian market dominance for the next decade. Under normal circumstances, I could handle Devan's political maneuvering with one hand tied behind my back.

But these weren't normal circumstances. In less than four hours, my wife was going to meet a stranger she thought was her husband, and I was going to be somewhere else entirely, pretending I had no idea it was happening.

"Sir, if I may," Mitchell said gently, "you appear to be questioning yesterday's decision."

"Questioning?" I stood up abruptly, beginning my familiar pace around the room. "Mitchell, I'm about to send a professional actor to charm my wife while I hide behind corporate spreadsheets. Of course I'm questioning it."

By the time I arrived at Blackwell Industries, my anxiety had crystallized into a sharp, almost manic focus. The boardroom was already filled with the usual suspects—twelve of Manhattan's most powerful executives, all pretending they weren't secretly taking sides in the ongoing power struggle between my uncle and me.

Devan was holding court at the far end of the table, his silver hair perfectly styled, his expression radiating the kind of concerned gravitas that played well with investors and shareholders. He looked every inch the responsible elder statesman, which made his political games all the more insidious.

"Gentlemen, ladies," I said as I entered, taking my seat at the head of the table with practiced confidence. "Let's discuss Singapore."

For the next hour, I fielded questions with mechanical precision. Budget projections, risk assessments, regulatory compliance—all data I could recite in my sleep. But my mind kept drifting to that café on 5th Avenue, to Aveline's face when she realized her husband wasn't who she expected.

At 12:10, my phone buzzed with a text from Sebastian: *Heading to the venue now. Wish me luck.*

My blood pressure spiked instantly. This was really happening. Right now, Sebastian was walking toward the most important conversation of my life, and I was trapped in a conference room discussing quarterly earnings.

"The infrastructure costs in Phase Two seem excessive," board member Patricia Hendricks was saying. "Are we certain these projections are accurate?"

"Absolutely certain," I replied automatically, though I barely heard the question. "Marcus has the detailed breakdown in the supplementary report."

12:15. Sebastian would be at the café by now, probably ordering coffee, preparing for the performance of his career.

12:20. Aveline might already be there, checking her watch, steeling herself for confrontation.

"Orion." Devan's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "The board is asking about contingency planning. You seem... distracted."

I looked up to find twelve pairs of eyes focused on me with varying degrees of concern and curiosity. Devan's expression was particularly pointed—he'd noticed my inattention and was clearly preparing to capitalize on it.

"I was reviewing the timeline," I said smoothly, though my heart was hammering. "The contingency protocols are outlined in Section Seven."

12:25. They were probably sitting across from each other now. What was Sebastian saying? How was Aveline reacting? Was she buying the performance, or could she sense something was wrong?

The thought of her alone with another man—even a man I'd hired—made something primitive and possessive roar to life in my chest. I needed to be there. I needed to see what was happening.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

"Marcus," I said to my assistant, who was taking notes at the side table, "finish the presentation. Approve the budget according to our B-plan parameters. I need to leave."

The room erupted in surprised murmurs. Devan's eyes lit up like he'd just been handed a winning lottery ticket.

"Orion!" he said, rising from his own chair with theatrical outrage. "Where exactly do you think you're going? We're in the middle of approving a $200 million project, and the board still has questions!"

"The board has had three weeks to review the materials," I replied calmly, straightening my cufflinks. "If they can't understand a forty-page report by now, that says more about their preparation than my presentation."

"This is exactly what I've been warning everyone about!" Devan turned to address the room, his voice rising with righteous indignation. "Recent personal complications have clearly compromised his ability to prioritize company interests! He's abandoning a crucial board meeting for what—another romantic crisis?"

Several board members shifted uncomfortably. I could see the doubt creeping into their expressions, the whispered conversations that would follow this meeting.

But I was past caring about Devan's political theater. All I could think about was Aveline, sitting in that café, possibly falling for Sebastian's charm, possibly seeing through the deception, possibly walking out of my life forever while I sat here discussing profit margins.

I turned to face the room, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"You want to know where I'm going?" I said, my tone deadly calm but carrying enough authority to silence every whisper. "I'm going to handle a matter that affects the future stability of the Blackwell legacy. A matter that involves the next generation of this family."

The room went completely still. Several board members leaned forward, sensing the weight behind my words.

I let my gaze drift over each face before settling on Devan, whose expression had shifted from smug confidence to wary calculation.

"You see, Uncle," I continued, my voice soft but loaded with menace, "some of us understand that true leadership means knowing when to delegate tactical details to capable subordinates, and when to personally handle strategic priorities that could reshape everything."

I paused, letting the implication sink in. In their minds, I was talking about Ryan, about securing the next generation. They didn't need to know the truth was far more complicated.

"If you can't distinguish between a quarterly budget review—which my assistant can handle in his sleep—and a family legacy issue that requires my direct attention," I said, my smile sharp as a knife's edge, "then perhaps you should spend less time studying my calendar and more time studying the fundamentals of executive decision-making."

Devan's face flushed red with humiliation and rage, but he couldn't respond without looking petty and small-minded.

I straightened my tie and headed for the door, leaving behind a room full of executives who were probably more impressed than scandalized.