Becoming His Wife By Contract

The knock came like a threat sharp, deliberate, and ice-cold. Emily froze mid-step, her hand hovering inches from the doorknob as her pulse slammed hard against her ribs. No one knew where she lived. Not even Claire. Her best friend so who could be knocking? The knock came again, it was harder this time, more impatient. Her stomach twisted. Her face turned, her mind whispered “why do I feel like I know who that is. Oh No God please don’t let it be who I’m thinking.” She really didn’t need to check. Because at this point it could only be one person and she already knew who this one person was. Jason. The name crawled through her like a snail. A name she doesn’t like to recall. A man who took her peace from her. The same man who she has been trying to hide from for years now. The knock came again. Slowly, she turned the knob and opened the door with so much fear and hoping it wasn’t Jason. He pushed in immediately, like he belonged there, like he owned the apartment,

Back in Ethan's study. The masked lady presence shifted the room slightly. She has black straight hair, she wore dark silk sexy lingerie, it looks expensive, she was intentional with her steps. She didn’t ask for attention. It was all over her. She closed the door behind her, slow and careful. He didn’t even flinch. Just leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass like he already knew she was coming. Then he took a slow sip. Only after that did he lift his head. His eyes settled on her calm, unbothered, almost entertained. Like he was expecting her… or whoever was under that mask. A small pause. Then he exhaled, voice low and sure. “Again. You’re late..” She smiled faintly and walked closer in a sexy manner. The air shifted, it was warmer, but unstable in contrast to him. She leaned in, trying to kiss him. Ethan turned his face slightly. “And what do you think you’re doing?” His eyes stayed on hers. “You know I don’t do that.” She exhaled softly,

Later that night. The mansion was too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that brought peace, but the kind that pressed against the skin, making every breath feel louder than it should. Emily stood in the center of her room for a long moment, trying to adjust. The space around her was beautiful, carefully designed, but it didn’t feel like comfort yet. It felt like structure. Like everything had been placed with intention… and nothing was accidental. This wasn’t fear alone. It was confusion. Safety wrapped in distance. Danger wrapped in luxury. And at the center of both was Ethan Reed. A soft knock broke the silence. “Madam Emily,” a gentle voice called from outside. Emily moved quickly and opened the door. A young woman stood there, neatly dressed, her expression calm and warm in a way that didn’t feel intimidating. “I’m Lila,” she said politely. “Dinner has been served.” Emily gave a small nod. “Thank you, Lila.” Lila smiled, professional but kind. “I’ll tak

The ride back from the gala was quiet. Not peaceful. Not comfortable. The kind of silence that stretched too far and said too much. Emily sat beside Ethan, her hands resting in her lap, her gaze fixed on the window. The city lights passed by in blurred streaks, but she wasn’t really seeing them. Ethan noticed. He had been watching her since they left. “You’ve been quiet,” he said, his voice calm but observant. Emily didn’t respond. He glanced at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road ahead. “Was it the gala?” he asked again. “Did something happen?” Still nothing. She didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. And for the first time in a long while, Ethan felt something unfamiliar. The rest of the drive passed like that. Long. Silent. Unresolved. When the car finally pulled into the mansion, Emily didn’t wait. She stepped out immediately. “Emily” Ethan called, looking worried. “Goodnight,” she said softly, without looking back. And she walked inside. By the time Ethan ente

“Who’s there?” Ethan’s voice came out sharper than he intended, cutting through the quiet of the hallway. His heart was still racing, his chest tight not from fear, but from the sudden, jarring realization that he might not have been alone while he… spoke. His jaw clenched. Without wasting another second, he pushed his chair back and strode out of his study, his footsteps quick but controlled. His eyes scanned the corridor left, right, then down the long stretch of polished floor. No one. Silence greeted him. But then his gaze dropped. A shattered vase lay across the floor, porcelain fragments scattered like fallen petals. The small table it once sat on stood slightly askew, as if it had been brushed past in a hurry. Ethan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Lila!” he called out, his voice echoing faintly through the house. A moment later, hurried footsteps approached, and Lila appeared, slightly out of breath. “Yes, sir?” Ethan gestured toward the mess on the