All Chapters of The Contracted Alliance; Accidental Marriage : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

LeenaThe penthouse was illuminated by a warm, golden glow. Glass panels presented a view of the skyline, yet all Leena noticed was the man in front of her—the one who shouldn’t still cause her heart to race, not after all that had happened. And still, there he was, leaning back in his chair as if he had endless time to cherish her.The burden of their history still remained, yet it felt light this evening. This evening, something felt unusual. The atmosphere twinkled with optimism. With a longing.She rose gradually, moving towards the grand piano, letting her fingers glide over its sleek surface. It brought backmemories of easier times—prior to betrayal, prior to concealed unions and harsh secrets that disturbed her tranquility. “Play something,” she murmured, glancing back at him over her shoulder.He got up quietly and sat beside her on the bench. Ethan's fingers floated over the keys before coming to rest. The tunethat enveloped the space was gentle, bittersweet—mirroring their n

Ethan’s POVThe sound of her laughter arrived at me before her contact did. It was gentle, effortless, harmonious—an echo I’d doanything to pursue for the remainder of my life.Leena.She rested on the marble kitchen counter, barefoot in one of my shirts once more—my favorite view. Her curls cascadeddown her shoulders like a chaotic tempest, and her lips, full and enticing, still bore the traces of a grin from something I hadn’t even uttered. She possessed a talent for doing that—grinning at existence as if it owed her joy and challenging the universe to attempt to snatch it away.Yet, oh God, how much the world had seized.And how much I desired to contribute.I advanced toward her gradually, much like someone would near a fire meant to warm aching limbs but dreaded might engulf them completely.“You're looking again,” she remarked, tilting her head with that playful sparkle in her gaze.“I’m contemplating,” I replied, halting in front of her. “Concerning how I managed to endure year

Ethan’s POVFrom the top floor of the Stanford estate, the city lights had always appeared unique. Shimmering like small stars spread throughout the bayou skyline, they often provided me solace. Yet this evening, they solely brought to mind the distance between Leena and me—despite being just a few rooms apart.I filled a glass with scotch I didn’t desire and leaned on the railing. The past few weeks had been a balancing act of recovery and reluctance. Her smile—oh, her smile—haunted me even more than her absence ever did. Now that she had returned to my life, to this home, everything seemed like a fragile equilibrium I was eager to maintain.Soft footsteps echoed quietly behind me. I didn't have to look back to recognize who it was."I expected to see you here," Leena's tone was soft, nearly hesitant. “You weren't there for dinner.”I took a drink, then pivoted. The wind lifted the edge of her silk robe, and seeing her there—barefoot, exposed, breathtaking—took my breath away."I did

The Grayson Holdings boardroom was a blend of stress and success. Morning sunlight streamed through the tallwindows, creating elongated beams of gold on the polished black table. Ethan occupied the position at the head, his keeneyes taking in every detail of the information displayed on the projection screen. The Grayson crest—a soaring falcon—shone on the mahogany wall behind him, an unspoken emblem of heritage and strength.“We’re experiencing rapid growth in our European expansion,” stated Charles, the CFO, his fingers shaking slightly over the quarterly report. The Paris and Milan branches surpassed Q2 objectives by seventeen percent. “We’re set for a historicfiscal year.”Ethan nodded slightly but remained silent for a moment. His quietness stemmed not from arrogance but from accuracy. He gauged individuals not by their speech but by the substance behind it.Aleena positioned herself to his right, her presence equally strong yet more inviting—akin to a flame rather than a blade.

Leena Grayson’s POV I didn’t expect the dining room at the Stanfords’ to feel like a war room, but I should have.Polished mahogany. Champagne flutes that sparkled with quiet threat. Seats arranged not for comfort, but for dominance. At the head of the table sat Mr. and Mrs. Stanford, gracious hosts in public, sharks behind silverware. On their left, Charles with that unsettling stillness, and Kara next to him, looking every bit the trophy daughter, but with eyes too sharp to be dismissed.Ethan was beside me, his hand resting lightly on my thigh under the table. Not possessively. Not to control. Just… present. And grounding. We hadn’t spoken much since we entered their estate, but we didn’t need to. Our silence, this time, wasn’t broken. It was bonded.“This wine is from 1897,” Mr. Stanford announced as the staff poured it with robotic grace. “A year of risk and resilience.”A veiled comment. Probably at us.Ethan lifted his glass. “Fitting.”“Grayson Holdings seems to be having its