All Chapters of Rival's Contract Marriage : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

POV: CameronI shouldn’t have agreed to meet her.Even as I sat there in the booth of this sleek downtown café that smelled like money and vanilla bean, I knew it was a trap. The kind of place where people wore tailored coats and pretended their cold brews were personality traits.Hilda slid into the seat across from me without saying a word. Her coat was sharp-shouldered and probably custom. Her nails were freshly done, black with tiny silver lines—like daggers that could also sign contracts. She didn’t smile. Didn’t even fake one. Just raised a perfectly sculpted brow like I was a pop quiz she already knew the answers to.“Cameron,” she said finally, drawing my name out like a cigarette drag. “I was curious how far you’d go.”I didn’t flinch. I came here with a plan, and I was going to stick to it. Even if her energy felt like a black hole trying to suck me into some kind of villain monologue.“I’m not here to fight,” I said, sliding the file across the table. “This is what I came f

POV: CameronI couldn’t speak.No words, no witty comeback, no power-move one-liner. Nothing.I just stood there in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot while Hilda’s offer echoed in my skull like a bad remix on loop.“Forget Brandon. Marry me.”My mouth was dry. My heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of my chest. And suddenly, it wasn’t just about Hilda’s creepy power play or my father’s expectations—it was about me. What I was about to become. Or lose.Brandon’s face flashed in my mind—him laughing at my terrible cooking, him holding my hand under the table at that dinner, him pulling me into his arms when I couldn’t even stand to look at myself.And the way he looked at me like I was already enough. Always enough.I sucked in a sharp breath.“Hilda…” My voice cracked a little, but I didn’t care. “I’m not doing this.”Her expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker. “Doing what?”“This.” I gestured between us like there was an invisible contract floating in the a

POV: CameronMy fingers tapped against my jeans like a broken metronome. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. Useless rhythm for a heart that didn’t know how to calm the hell down.“Brandon’s place,” I told the driver, trying to sound cool, casual, not like my entire emotional life was in a blender on high speed.The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You okay, man?”I blinked. “Huh?”“You look like you just robbed a bank or lost your puppy. Or both.”I let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Neither. Just… I don’t know. Emotional crisis?”He raised an eyebrow. “Love stuff?”I stared at him for a second, thrown off. “How did you—?”He shrugged like it was obvious. “You’ve got ‘please don’t let them hate me’ energy. Plus, you said ‘Brandon’s place’ like it was sacred ground.”I slumped back into the seat. “Wow. I am so obvious.”“Nah,” he said, turning onto the main road. “Just human.”I looked out the window, watching buildings blur past. “He might hate me.”“But he

POV: CameronHis lips were on mine.I barely had time to process it. One second I was standing there, half ready to bolt, half ready to collapse, and the next—boom. His hands were on my face, and my entire universe had shrunk to the space between us.My heart did this stupid, chaotic flip like it didn’t know whether to panic or melt. Maybe both. Definitely both.Brandon was kissing me.Like actually kissing me.And not in the “haha truth-or-dare” kind of way. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t a maybe. This was real.My hands moved without asking for permission, grabbing the front of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping me upright. His lips were soft and a little chapped, like he’d been biting them from stress. Or nerves. I didn’t care. They were perfect.He tasted like mint and something warm. Something that felt like home even though I wasn’t sure I’d ever really had one.I pressed closer. He didn’t pull away.Instead, he kissed me deeper, like he’d been waiting for this—for m

POV: BrandonI woke up to the sound of humming.Not angelic, not graceful—more like someone trying to win a karaoke battle in their own head. Off-key. Wildly confident. Weirdly charming.Of course it was Cameron.I blinked a few times, stretching like a cat, and turned my head just in time to see him tiptoeing around my room shirtless, wearing my hoodie—way too big on him—and a serious expression like he was about to perform open-heart surgery. On… his toothbrush?“Are you having a moment with your dental hygiene or…?”He jumped like I’d tasered him with my voice, then spun around dramatically, clutching the toothbrush like a weapon. “I thought you were asleep!”I smirked. “I was, but you singing Beyoncé woke me from the grave.”“I was humming,” he corrected, pointing the toothbrush at me like a judge. “And it was Frank Ocean, thank you.”“Could’ve fooled me.”“Whatever,” he huffed, turning back to dig through his overnight bag (which was actually just a tote with random chaos inside)