All Chapters of The billionaire’s contracted wife: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The dining room of the O’Connell estate was large and exquisitely designed, with a chandelier casting a golden glow over the long mahogany table. Fine china was set in front of each chair, and the air smelled faintly of roasted duck and honey-glazed vegetables. Everything looked perfect—too perfect.Lena took her seat beside Carson, her spine straight, her eyes observant. Stephanie sat across from her, smugness dripping from every gesture. Mrs. O’Connell took the head of the table, her gaze cold but collected.Dinner began in silence, forks clinking lightly against porcelain.“So, Lena,” Mrs. O’Connell finally said, cutting through the stillness. “How is your position at Fendis? I hear you were given quite a high title for someone so new.”Lena smiled politely, already expecting the jab. “Yes, ma’am. Kenny believes in pushing talent early. I’m learning fast and contributing where I can.”“Interesting,” she replied, sipping her wine. “Back in my day, people worked for years before gett

the progression of Lena and Carson’s relationship,The next morning, sunlight spilled gently across the bed sheets, warming Lena’s skin. She stirred slowly, her eyes blinking open to the soft sounds of birdsong outside. For a moment, she didn’t move. Her head rested on a firm chest, and strong arms were loosely wrapped around her.Carson.Memories from the night before flooded back—his kiss, their whispered promises, the way his touch wasn’t rushed, but intentional. There was no contract between them last night. No roles to play. Just raw, vulnerable honesty.She tilted her head slightly to look at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady. For once, he looked peaceful—unburdened. Lena let herself savor it for a few more seconds before quietly slipping out of bed and pulling on a robe.Downstairs, the house was still. She padded to the kitchen, where the staff greeted her warmly.“Good morning, ma’am,” one of them said. “Would you like your usual tea?”“Yes, please,” she smiled.

The press conference made headlines within hours. “O’Connell CEO Confirms Marriage to Rising Fashion Star.” “Lena Wellington Speaks Out: ‘There’s Nothing Fake About Us.’” “Power Couple or Publicity Stunt? Carson O’Connell Breaks Silence.” By morning, the internet was buzzing with praise, curiosity, and skepticism. But one thing was clear—Carson and Lena were no longer in hiding. Lena scrolled through her phone slowly, reading the comments. Most were supportive, admiring her poise and bravery. A few were mean-spirited, accusing her of being a gold-digger. She sighed and locked the screen. “Don’t read too many,” Carson said, walking into the room with two mugs of coffee. “I know,” she replied. “But part of me wants to see what people are saying. Just to prepare myself.” Carson handed her a mug and sat beside her. “We told our truth. That’s all that matters.” She sipped her coffee, then looked at him. “Do you think we got ahead of them in time?” Carson’s eyes darkened

Three days after the gala, the headlines no longer revolved around Lena’s humble beginnings or Carson’s wealth. They now centered on Stephanie McMahon’s dramatic arrest and the crimes that had unfolded behind the glittering socialite life she had so carefully curated.“Socialite Stephanie McMahon Faces Charges for Corporate Fraud and Assault.”“From Heiress to Handcuffs: The Fall of a Manhattan Darling.”“O’Connell CEO and Wife Break Silence on Scandal: Truth Always Wins.”Lena sat by the window in her mother’s hospital room, the sunlight casting a soft glow across her lap. Her mother, looking stronger with each day, sipped her tea with both hands and smiled.“Look at you,” she said, gesturing at the magazine Lena had set down. “On the cover. Graceful. Bold. My daughter is becoming a household name.”Lena gave a modest smile. “Not quite the kind of fame I was aiming for.”“Sometimes we don’t choose the spotlight,” her mother said. “But we can choose what we do with it.”Lena nodded. “

Lena barely slept.Even with Carson’s arm draped protectively around her waist, her mind refused to quiet. That image—the blurry photo from Barcelona—played on repeat in her head. Carson, standing beside a woman in a red dress, her hand casually resting on his chest. He wasn’t smiling. But he also wasn’t pushing her away.Who was she?And why had he never mentioned that trip?At 6:00 AM, Lena slipped out of bed quietly, wrapped herself in a silk robe, and stepped onto the balcony. The city below was still waking up, the streets half-lit, the sky pale blue with streaks of pink. Her tea steamed in her hand, untouched.She hated how easily doubt crept in.This was the most peace they’d had since the contract began. And yet one message, one image, threatened to unravel it.She picked up her phone and stared at the screen again.Unknown Number:“He’ll never tell you the whole story. But I will.”[Image attached]No name. No follow-up. Just that chilling line.She debated responding. Who ar