All Chapters of My contracted wife: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The vacation house breathed with silence.Outside, snow blanketed the trees in heavy white. The wind whispered against the windows like a restless ghost, but inside, there was only warmth thick, heavy, and intoxicating. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shifting shadows across the glass floors and naked bodies still marked by sweat and friction.Emily sat curled in a leather armchair, her bare skin glistening with the remnants of pleasure, legs pulled up lazily beneath her. Her hair was damp against her shoulders, her lips swollen from kisses not given in love but in dominance. The flickering firelight bathed her body in a gold-red hue, making her look like something forged in the heart of the blaze.A tablet rested in her lap, casting a cooler glow. On the screen: chaos.BREAKING: George Kings Accused of Bigamy — Shocking Revelation of Secret Second MarriageThe image was perfectly chosen George mid-step, caught off-guard by paparazzi in front of the Kings Corporation building

The rhythmic clicking of keyboards echoed in the sleek glass office of Knights & Hayes Corp., interrupted only by the occasional shuffle of papers and the muted buzz of private conversations. George Hayes stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his corner office, a steaming espresso in one hand and tension coiled in his shoulders. Below, the city moved like a restless tide, impatient, relentless, unbothered. Much like the press. The media had begun to bite. The headlines were everywhere: “The CEO with Two Wives?” “A Legal Union or a Business Distraction?” “Inside the Private Affairs of George Hayes” “George Hayes impregnates a lady and is forced to wed her". He was losing narrative control and he hated it. “Status?” George asked curtly, not turning as the PR team settled into the room behind him. His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge underneath, like a scalpel waiting to cut. Janine, the lead publicist, adjusted her blazer nervously. “We’ve drafted three po

The morning sun filtered in through the sheer drapes, casting soft golden light across the expansive dining room of the Knights estate. The air was still, almost sterile, and yet the silence wasn’t empty; it was thick, waiting, like the held breath of a house that had witnessed too many words left unspoken.Luna moved with the same precision as always. There was no music, no humming, not even the rustle of the help. She had dismissed the maids earlier quietly, without emotion, just as she had begun doing over the past few mornings. She preferred the silence. It gave her space to think. And thinking, she had learned, was far more valuable than reacting.The table was set for two, meticulously arranged, with crystal glasses filled, cutlery gleaming, and ceramic plates still steaming with breakfast. She had made everything herself: soft poached eggs, sautéed vegetables, grilled sourdough, and a fruit salad set in an elegant glass bowl. A carafe of orange juice sat between the place setti

The hallway lights were dimmed, casting long shadows against the marble floor as George made his way up the staircase. The estate was eerily silent. No kitchen lights. No quiet clinks of teacups. No soft rustling from the garden where Luna often sat in the evenings, half-lost in thought.It unsettled him.He had grown used to her presence, not in a comforting way, but like the cold hum of electricity always there, always buzzing beneath the surface. Quiet but potent.But tonight, the silence wasn’t just absence.It felt like disappearance.He checked the garden first. Empty. The study? Dark. Her shoes were at the door, her scent faint in the air. She was home but she wasn’t anywhere she should be.That’s when his steps pulled him toward the guest wing. Her claimed territory.His fingers brushed the doorknob.Half of him expected silence.The other half? He wasn’t sure.But he pushed the door open quietly.And paused.She was already asleep.That alone made his chest tighten.In the we

Luna didn’t see her immediately.She only felt the air shift.The violins faltered. A hush pulled at the edges of the ballroom like an unseen wind. A ripple ran through the crowd, one that made Luna's skin prickle beneath her satin gown before her eyes even found the source.And then—Emily.Descending the grand staircase like a ghost draped in vengeance, scarlet silk wrapped around her like a flame that refused to die. The same confident smirk. The same cold glint in her eyes.Luna’s spine locked into place.Outwardly, she didn’t move. Not a twitch. Not a blink.But inside…… .Her stomach coiled. Her breath caught halfway up her throat.Her heart, already frayed by the nerves of the night, now thudded against her ribs like a prisoner desperate to escape.She didn’t know what to do. Not for a second. Her thoughts tangled George, Emily, the press but none of it stuck.Because beneath the loud panic was a deeper, more dangerous whisper.What if he was here too?Her gaze shifted slowly,