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Acceptable Service: Tipping The Ruthless Billionaire
img img Acceptable Service: Tipping The Ruthless Billionaire img Chapter 5 5
5 Chapters
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 5 5

The ride in the Maybach was silent. The leather seats smelled of money. Colette sat in the corner, clutching her phone as if it were a lifeline. She had checked the hospital portal three times. The balance was zero. It was real.

August sat on the other side, typing on his phone, ignoring her.

"How?" Colette finally asked, her voice trembling. "Are you a hacker?"

August sighed, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Driver, pull over."

The car glided to a stop on a quiet side street. August turned to her, the interior light casting sharp shadows across his face. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick document.

"Read it."

Colette took the heavy paper. Prenuptial and Marital Agreement.

She flipped through it. The legalese was dense, but the terms were clear.

Clause 1: Duration of marriage shall be exactly 365 days.

Clause 2: The Wife must appear at all public functions designated by the Husband.

Clause 3: Infidelity by the Wife will result in immediate termination and repayment of all debts.

Clause 4: The Husband agrees to cover all medical expenses for Richard Barrett, plus a monthly stipend of $50,000.

Colette looked up, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Why me? You could hire an actress. A model."

August looked out the window. "Because you left the money."

"What?"

He turned back to her. "This morning. You thought I was a prostitute. You were broke, scared, and running away. But you still paid. It was insulting, yes. But it proved two things: you are incredibly stupid, and you are not greedy."

Colette felt heat rush to her cheeks. "I have principles."

"Exactly," August said. "My family... my world... is full of sharks. I don't need a shark. I need someone who won't try to steal the company while I'm sleeping."

He leaned in closer. The scent of him-sandalwood and cold air-filled her senses.

"And," he added, his voice dropping an octave, "I don't find you repulsive. That will make the public displays of affection easier."

Colette swallowed hard. The air in the car felt suddenly thin.

"Sign it," August said, handing her a fountain pen. "Sign it, and you never have to see your stepmother again."

Colette looked at the pen. It was heavy, black lacquer with gold trim. She thought of her father, safe for now. She thought of Meredith's smirk. And she thought of the files on her father's laptop-the ones showing how Sanders Media had systematically bankrupted smaller art houses, including her father's, using fraudulent valuations. This wasn't just about saving him. This was about getting inside.

She uncapped the pen. Her hand shook, but she forced the nib onto the paper.

Colette Barrett.

The ink was dark and permanent.

August took the document back. He checked the signature, then nodded.

"Welcome to the firm, Mrs. Sanders."

Colette froze. "Sanders? As in... Sanders Media?"

August leaned back, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Caught up at last? Good. I'd hate to think I married a complete idiot."

Colette stared at him. The magazines. The news. August Sanders. The ruthless CEO. The Billionaire.

She had tipped August Sanders a hundred dollars.

"Oh my god," she whispered, burying her face in her hands.

"Driver," August said calmly. "To the Upper East Side. My wife needs to pack."

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