Contract Marriage To The Alpha King のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Damian’s POV I heard the elevator ding long before I saw her. The faint, mechanical chime echoed through the vast, usually silent expanse of my executive floor, cutting through the silence of my office like a freshly sharpened blade. Every instinct in me stilled—ears sharpening, senses on high alert, heart slowing its deliberate rhythm, muscles coiled like a predator sensing his prey. She was here. Against all logic, against all my expectations, she had returned. I remained in my chair, back ramrod straight against the supple leather, jaw tight, a muscle ticking violently in my temple. I refused to move, refused to acknowledge what my wolf already had, what my senses had confirmed with a jolt that went straight to my core. She came back. The beast within me pulsed with a confusing mix of possessiveness and something akin to reluctant respect. The heavy mahogany door to my outer office opened quietly, a barely audible click. She stepped inside like a ghost—silent, small, almo

Ava's POV The sterile white lights of the hospital corridor seemed to blur, stretching into an endless tunnel as I walked—no, rushed—toward the surgical waiting lounge. Each step felt heavy, like I was sinking deeper and deeper into a pool of ice water, every muscle protesting the chilling dread that was coiling in my gut. My phone was clutched in trembling fingers, the cold metal digging into my sweaty palm, its screen dark, a mirror to the sudden, suffocating void that had opened within me. My breath caught in my throat, a ragged gasp that sounded alien in the hushed quiet of the hospital, when I finally reached the nurse’s station. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh, unforgiving glow on the pale, anxious faces around me. "I’m here for my brother," I managed to choke out, my voice raw and breathy, as if I’d run a marathon. "Elizabeth… Elizabeth Sinclair. He was in surgery. How is he? Is he out? Can I see him?" The words tumbled out, desperate, a frantic plea

Ava’s POV I don’t know how long I sat there. Minutes? Hours? Time had ceased to have meaning, dissolving into a meaningless blur within the confines of Eli’s hospital room. The world outside faded into a cacophony of white noise—the relentless beeping of machines, each pulse a fragile reminder of his tenuous grip on life; the rhythmic hum of the IV drip, a steady, insidious drip of sterile fluids into his small body; the soft shuffle of nurses’ feet, moving with practiced efficiency that seemed utterly detached from the profound agony tearing through my soul. Each sound, each movement, felt like a constant, agonizing reminder of the terrifying reality I was trapped in, a reality I couldn’t escape, no matter how desperately I yearned to. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They trembled violently, an uncontrollable tremor that started deep within my core and rippled outwards, a physical manifestation of my inner turmoil. They trembled as I reached out to touch Eli’s fingers, cold and s

Ava’s POVThe minutes passed slowly.I sat hunched in the cold hospital chair, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, eyes fluttering open and closed. My gaze flickered between the quiet monitors and Bia, who sat on the other side of Eli’s bed, holding his limp hand with a tenderness that made my throat ache.She stroked his fingers gently, whispering softly to him—her voice steady and warm, a balm against the sterile weight of the room.“You’ve got to wake up, Eli,” she murmured, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “You still owe me a sandcastle, remember? That beach trip you promised Ava? We’re still waiting.”I watched her, something tight in my chest easing for the first time in hours. There was something about her presence—so calm, so grounded—that soothed the storm inside me.Even now, as everything felt like it was falling apart, she made space for hope.Her quiet determination, the way she kept talking like he could hear every word—it filled the room with something soft and pr

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