The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 87

Aveline

I was jolted awake at what felt like dawn by the sound of frantic activity from the room next door. The rhythmic thumping of heels hitting the floor told me Vivian was cycling through every pair of shoes she owned, while the constant rustling from her closet suggested a similar fate was befalling her entire wardrobe.

But what truly made sleep impossible was her voice, growing more shrill and excited by the minute.

"Six PM!" she called out to no one in particular. "He said six PM sharp, and he sent me the address! I can't believe I'm finally going to see his house! Do you think it'll be like those mansions in the movies? All marble and chandeliers and—"

"For the love of—" I groaned, pulling my pillow over my head. "Vivian! Some of us are trying to sleep! It's my one day off from teaching, could you please keep it down?"

"Oh, excuse me, Princess!" she shot back through the thin wall. "I know someone who's been living it up in billionaire penthouses probably thinks Dwayne's place is beneath them, but not all of us landed ourselves a CEO sugar daddy!"

I sat up in bed, already feeling my temper spike. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means!" Vivian's voice was getting higher and more venomous. "Dwayne might just be some 'fallen young master' compared to your precious Orion, but at least he actually wants to spend time with me! Unlike some people who stole eighteen years of my youth and now act like they're too good for the rest of us!"

I stared at the wall separating our rooms, completely baffled. "Stole your youth? Vivian, what are you even talking about?"

"While you were living in the city getting the best education money could buy, I was stuck in some backwater town pulling weeds and learning to milk cows! You got everything handed to you on a silver platter, and now you want to take away the one good thing that's ever happened to me!"

The accusation was so absurd I didn't even know how to respond. I hadn't "taken" anything from Vivian—if anything, she'd been the one living in comfort while I worked multiple jobs to pay for my education. But arguing with her when she was in this mood was pointless.

I flopped back down and pulled the covers over my head, trying to block out her continued ranting about fairness and stolen opportunities.

*Just get through today,* I told myself. *One dinner, get the contact information, and then you never have to deal with any of this drama again.*

---

By the time six o'clock rolled around, Vivian had transformed herself into what she clearly thought was the epitome of sophisticated glamour. Her dress was tight enough to be painted on, her makeup was applied with industrial-strength precision, and she'd somehow managed to make her hair look like she'd stepped out of a high-end salon.

The address Dwayne had provided led us to a sleek modern house in one of Manhattan's more exclusive neighborhoods. It was impressive—all glass and steel with perfectly manicured landscaping—though it lacked the understated elegance of Orion's penthouse.

What it lacked in taste, however, it made up for in obvious displays of wealth. The foyer featured a massive crystal chandelier that probably cost more than most people's cars, and the living room was decorated with what appeared to be original artwork alongside more questionable choices: a gold-plated bar cart, leopard print accent chairs, and a coffee table that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of black marble.

It screamed "new money" and "bachelor pad" in equal measure.

Vivian's eyes went wide as she took in the surroundings, practically vibrating with excitement. I just shook my head. The man clearly had more money than sense.

"Ladies!" Dwayne appeared at the top of a curved staircase, dressed in what could only be described as a powder pink suit that probably cost more than my monthly salary. "Welcome to my humble abode!"

Humble was definitely not the word I would have chosen, but I kept my thoughts to myself as he descended the stairs with theatrical flair.

"Vivian, you look absolutely stunning," he said, taking her hand and kissing it with practiced charm. "And Aveline, thank you so much for gracing us with your presence. I know how... busy you've been lately."

There was something in his tone that made my skin crawl, but Vivian was practically glowing under his attention, so I forced a polite smile.

"Thank you for inviting me," I said neutrally. "I hope we're not keeping you from anything important."

"Nothing could be more important than this," Dwayne replied with a megawatt smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Please, let me show you to the dining room. I've prepared something special for tonight."

The dining room was as ostentatious as the rest of the house, dominated by a massive table that could easily seat twelve. Tonight, it was set for three with crystal glasses, fine china, and an array of bottles that made my blood run cold.

Vintage Dom Pérignon. Macallan 25-year-old Scotch. Grey Goose vodka in a crystal decanter. Louis XIII cognac that probably cost more than my car.

Every single bottle screamed money, power, and very bad decisions.

"I thought we'd start with some of my favorite vintages," Dwayne said proudly, gesturing to the alcohol display like it was a museum exhibit. "This champagne is from 1996—an exceptional year. And this cognac..." He lifted the Louis XIII reverently. "Aged for decades. Absolutely extraordinary."

I looked at the spread of liquid temptation and felt every alarm bell in my head start ringing simultaneously.

"Actually," I said firmly, beginning to push the bottles away from my place setting, "I won't be drinking tonight. Any of this."