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A blanket excuse for weakness, for shirking responsibility.
Last Updated:
2025-06-17 23:10:02
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Contract Marriage To The Alpha King He will never grasp the depth of our pain, the enormity of our love.
Ava’s POV The cold water I had splashed on my face had done little to stop the storm raging inside me. My cheeks still burned with the remnants of unshed tears, and my chest felt tight, constricted, a physical manifestation of the crushing grief that threatened to overwhelm me. But I was standing. That had to count for something, a small victory in the face of utter desolation. I smoothed down my blouse with trembling hands, noting how the fabric still seemed to cling to my damp skin. I attempted to fix my hair, running my fingers through the messy strands, even though it stubbornly refused to fall neatly into its usual composed style. I applied a soft touch of lip balm, feeling its cool, minty tingle against my chapped lips—not to impress anyone, certainly not him, but because I desperately needed to feel human again. To feel like I still had some semblance of control over something, anything, in a world that had spiraled wildly out of my grasp. My heels clicked softly this time,
Contract Marriage To The Alpha King I hate how he made me feel today.
Ava's POV “You thought he would see us,” she growled, her voice aching with a profound disappointment that echoed my own. “You hoped he would see the sacrifice, the love, the desperation. But he doesn’t. He sees only power. Control. Material assets. Nothing else. He is a predator, consumed by his own ambition.” I let my head fall back against the cold, unforgiving tiled wall, tears sliding in steady streams down my cheeks, blurring my vision further. The coldness against my skin was a small, physical comfort against the burning pain in my chest. “He humiliated me. In front of everyone. As if I had no right to feel grief… as if Eli was just some inconvenience, a line item in his carefully curated schedule that dared to go awry.” My voice was barely a whisper, filled with a raw indignation that pulsed beneath my despair. My wolf snarled inside me—a fierce, protective sound, an invisible presence curling tightly around my heart, shielding it from further blows. Her anger was a co
Contract Marriage To The Alpha King He treats us like tools. Like objects. Like we are less than human, less than dirt beneath his expensive shoes.
Ava's POV I didn’t wait for the elevator. I couldn’t. The thought of being confined in that small, metallic box, forced to breathe the same recycled air as the unfeeling automatons of Blackwood Industries, was unbearable. My lungs screamed for fresh air, for space, for any reprieve from the suffocating pressure of my own unraveling. Every step through the glass hallway was a blur, my vision tunneled by unshed tears and profound exhaustion. The polished marble floor seemed to stretch endlessly, the faces of passersby flickering in and out of my peripheral vision like distorted caricatures. People turned to glance at me, their expressions shifting from curiosity to fleeting concern, then quickly looking away, uncomfortable with the raw, exposed grief I must have radiated. I didn’t care. Their judgment, their pity, meant nothing. I couldn’t breathe properly—my chest was tightening, a vice-like grip squeezing the air from my lungs. My throat was raw, constricted, like the air itself
Contract Marriage To The Alpha King I’m not interested in explanations, Ms. Sinclair.
Damian’s POV The echo of heels clicked down the hallway—measured, unhurried, yet subtly off-kilter, a faint drag that spoke of immense weariness. I didn’t need to look up from the sprawling financial projections on my monitor to know it was her. My senses, sharper than any human's, had registered her presence the moment she stepped off the elevator, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in the air pressure, a ghost of her scent—a delicate mix of hospital antiseptic and something uniquely hers, something that usually tugged at the edges of my control. Ava Sinclair had returned. I sat behind my desk, a fortress of polished dark wood and cold steel, finishing a call with the Tokyo team. My voice was calm, my tone sharp, precise, dissecting their quarterly performance with ruthless efficiency. My gaze remained fixed on the glowing screen, my expression carefully neutral, even as every fiber of my being was acutely aware of her approaching presence. She didn’t speak right away. She alwa
Contract Marriage To The Alpha King He raged at my indifference, at my dismissal of her.
Damian's POV No one dared to speak again. The silence that followed was absolute, heavy with unspoken fear and resentment. I glanced at Ava’s empty chair one last time, a ghost of frustration flickering through me, then shook my head with disgust. She had been promising. Efficient. Surprisingly competent. Her intelligence, her quick wit, her defiance—they had all been… unexpected. Intriguing, even. I had thought, for a fleeting, foolish moment, that she might be different. That she might possess a resilience that transcended her human frailties. But clearly, that was short-lived. Just another weak, emotional human. No different from all the others. I walked out of the meeting without another word, my exit as abrupt as my interruption. The sharp, decisive sound of my expensive shoes echoed across the polished marble floors of the hallway, each step a testament to my unwavering resolve, my refusal to tolerate any deviation from my exacting standards. Inside the stark, luxurio
Contract Marriage To The Alpha King A blanket excuse for weakness, for shirking responsibility.
Damian’s POV The morning sun, usually a welcome herald of a new day, now felt like a punitive spotlight, glaring harshly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Blackwood Industries boardroom. Its merciless rays bounced off the polished, obsidian surface of the immense conference table, illuminating every speck of dust, every imperceptible scratch. A dozen executives, a collection of the sharpest minds I’d personally curated, sat arrayed around me, mumbling through reports and projections. Their voices, usually a symphony of strategic thought, were now a dull, irritating buzz in my ears, an inane drone that barely registered. I stared, not at the intricate charts or the detailed spreadsheets, but at the seat beside me. The one directly to my right, strategically placed for immediate access and efficient communication. It was empty. It wasn’t the first thing I noticed when I’d swept into the room, my mind already racing through the day’s agenda. But once I did, once my eyes r
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