All Chapters of The billionaire’s contracted wife: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The first light of morning filtered through the misty windows of the Geneva safehouse. The city remained asleep beneath its veil of fog, unaware that history was unraveling behind fortified walls.Lena stood in the interrogation room, hands clasped behind her back, the tension in her spine a taut wire. Across the table sat Sofia Albrecht, no longer defiant, but composed—too composed.Her brown eyes studied Lena with unreadable calm. “You’re not here for a confession,” she said. “You’re here for confirmation.”Lena didn’t answer right away. Instead, she placed a sealed folder onto the metal table and slid it forward.“Julian Kessner,” she said quietly.Sofia’s eyes flicked down. Her fingers hesitated, then opened the folder.Inside was a copy of a long-sealed Echo file. Redacted. Dated. Stamped with Lena’s name and credentials.“You accessed this three times in the last seventy-two hours,” Lena continued. “Why?”Sofia’s gaze met hers. “Because someone wanted proof you buried the truth.

The official reaffirmation ceremony was scheduled to be brief—fifteen minutes, two signatures, and a single statement to the press. But Lena felt the weight of it like a second war. Dressed in a sleek black suit, she stood beside Carson on the rooftop of Echo’s Geneva headquarters. The skyline shimmered with cold defiance, and across the terrace, a handful of carefully vetted journalists waited with pens poised and lenses sharp. “You ready?” Carson murmured. “I was born into shadows,” Lena replied. “But I’ve never had to smile through one before.” They walked forward together, hand in hand—not as a performance, but as a decision. The crowd quieted. Flashbulbs blinked. A press liaison read a prepared statement about unity, leadership, and trust. Then it was time. Lena stepped forward. Her voice didn’t waver. “Echo was built on sacrifice. But it must now be rebuilt on choice. Today, I reaffirm a commitment—not because a contract demands it, but because the truth does.”

The desert outside Ashgabat was as unforgiving as memory. Under a crescent moon, the Echo black-badge unit crouched behind a sand-swept ridge, eyes fixed on the steel-clad warehouse pulsing faintly with blue light.Lena observed through binoculars; her earpiece linked to Ruth’s feed from Geneva. Carson lay prone beside her; rifle trained on the compound’s upper watch point.“This is the hub,” Ruth confirmed through comms. “Fiber optics trace back to at least six Echo Phoenix nodes. And Lena... Calix’s biometric tag was picked up ninety minutes ago. He’s inside.”Lena lowered the binoculars slowly. “Then this is our window.”Carson checked his watch. “We go in silent. No alarms. If he sees us coming, he’ll vanish for another five years.”They dove into the smoke and ran for extraction.As they emerged into the cool desert air, the detonation echoed behind them. A blast of compressed heat lifted sand and steel skyward. The facility collapsed inward, flames licking at the night like veng

The room was dim, lit only by the flickering white of the old interface and the hum of oxygen cycling through the command unit’s secure vault. Lena stared at the blinking coordinates on the screen—latitude and longitude locked into place, cold and final.Buried beneath the ice and ancient stone was the one system Calix couldn’t touch. Because even he had forgotten it existed.Or so Lena hoped.She reached for a secure microkey embedded in her watch band. With a soft click, it disengaged, revealing an old alloy strip engraved with the initials: L.W.O. — Lena Wellington O’Connell.“This key isn’t digital,” she said quietly. “It was never linked to the grid. It only opens one thing.”“The vault,” Ruth said. Her tone was somewhere between reverence and disbelief.Carson moved closer. “Why Iceland?”Lena ran her finger across the old crest on the screen. “Because the last time I felt Echo was truly safe was before it expanded. Before it was weaponized. That moment happened in Reykjavik, in

The flight back to Geneva was silent.Lena sat alone near the tail of the jet, Rafael’s journal in her lap, the final page still open to the word that hadn’t left her since Kamchatka:“Daughter.”Calix had a child. A daughter hidden under an alias, tucked away in a school system built on forged documents and forgotten nonprofits. It wasn’t a vulnerability Lena had expected. It wasn’t even a weapon. It was a revelation.For all the destruction, for all the chaos he unleashed, Calix had still protected something.And that meant he could still lose.But it also meant he wasn’t completely lost.Ruth slid into the seat across from her, offering a slim tablet.“Interpol confirmed the coordinates,” she said softly. “The girl exists. Name: Emilia Varga. Age thirteen. Enrolled in a private academy just outside Bucharest. Dual citizenship. Raised by a guardian registered under a defunct aid organization tied to one of Calix’s earliest ghost accounts.”Lena studied the photo. The girl was sittin