My New Life as a Rancher with a Hot Billionaire Husband Chapter 11

My New Life as a Rancher with a Hot Billionaire Husband Chapter 11

Once the convoy disappeared and the dust settled, the farm returned to quiet.

I suddenly realized the hand on my shoulder had not moved.

I let out an awkward laugh and tried to step aside, subtly avoiding the faint cedarwood scent of his cologne.

“Um… Mr. Harrington, the show’s over. You can let go now.”

Caleb did not move.

Instead, he leaned down slightly, his lips near my ear, his warm breath brushing against my neck.

“Who said I was acting?”

My entire body went rigid. My mind blanked instantly.

“M… Mr. Harrington, that’s not funny,” I stammered.

He chuckled softly, then finally let go and walked over to the outdoor faucet to wash his hands.

“Brittany, I already looked into your background.”

He spoke casually as he dried his hands.

“Community college graduate. Signed that ridiculous emotional stand-in contract with Killian to pay for your grandmother’s medical bills.”

“Over the past three years, aside from wasting money on those junk mechanical keyboards for gaming,

everything else went to her treatment or your savings.”

I froze.

I thought I had hidden everything well.

Turns out, to people like him, I was completely transparent.

“Why were you investigating me?” I asked, my guard instantly up.

“At first, curiosity,” Caleb said, turning to face me. His dark eyes were steady, unreadable. “I wanted to see

what kind of woman someone like Killian would choose as a substitute.”

He paused, then added quietly, “After that… it was because of you.”

“Me?” I pointed at myself, almost laughing. “Mr. Harrington, I’m just a regular woman who only cares about

money. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me.”

There was no way something this cliché would happen to me.

Caleb did not answer directly.

He stepped closer, his gaze fixed on me from above

“Brittany, I’ll admit, I started this like it was entertainment. But over the past two weeks. I’ve seen a

completely different side of you.”

You argued with suppliers over a few cents of markup like your life depended on it, yet you donated tens of thousands to a local wildlife rescue without hesitation. You spend your days covered in dirt, working the

land, and somehow still smile brighter than anyone else.”

His voice lowered slightly.

“There’s a kind of life in you. The kind that forces something to bloom even in barren soil. That’s something

a man like Killian, born with a silver spoon and obsessed with spreadsheets, will never understand.”

I just stared at him, completely stunned.

Was… that a compliment?

Because to me, it sounded suspiciously like he was calling me a cockroach with unstoppable survival

instincts.