All Chapters of My contracted wife: Chapter 51 - Chapter 59

Chapter Sixteen: The Quiet Betrayal (Prolonged)The garden was unusually still.Moonlight poured in long silver strokes across the stone pathway, cutting sharp lines between light and shadow. The air was scented with lavender and clipped roses, but beneath that sweetness, something darker lingered unspoken truths, buried intentions.George stood just beyond the hedges, cloaked in shadows, and for the first time in a very long while, he didn’t know what to do.He wasn’t a man easily shaken. Not by market crashes, political scandals, or the vicious games of media warfare. But this Luna, her voice, those words had left a crack in his armor. A slow, splintering fault line he couldn’t ignore.“This will be my last job.”The phrase had come out of her mouth so fluidly. Clean. Measured. Not like a confession—but a decision.George’s breath slowed, as if his body refused to function until he made sense of what he just heard. Luna hadn’t been shaken. She wasn’t crying, pacing, or sounding desp

Chapter Six: Whispers of the ChosenThe night was quiet in the outer territories.The winds carried the scent of pine and dew, but beneath it lingered something else. Something ancient. Watching. Listening.Inside a modest, weathered home nestled deep within the woods, a low fire crackled in the hearth. Its glow cast flickering shadows across stone walls and worn furniture. Upstairs, the world slept. Or so it seemed.Downstairs, in the dimly lit kitchen, Freya’s adoptive parents stood facing each other, the silence between them thick with secrets.“She’s changing,” Amara whispered, wringing her hands, her gaze flickering toward the staircase. “Every night I see it in her eyes, the flashes of pain, the confusion. The bond is stirring. She knows something is wrong, even if she can’t name it.”Adrian, once known as Elias in his past life before they went into hiding stood at the window, his jaw clenched as he stared into the forest. “She can’t know yet,” he said at last. “The binding spe

Absolutely. Here's your new chapter, carrying over the emotional weight, secrecy, and growing psychological tension between George and Luna. The tone is slow-burning, layered, and reflective of the unraveling façade.---Chapter Sixteen: The Quiet BetrayalThe garden was unusually still.Moonlight poured in long silver strokes across the stone pathway, cutting sharp lines between light and shadow. The air was scented with lavender and clipped roses, but beneath that sweetness, something darker lingered—unspoken truths, buried intentions.George stood just beyond the hedges, cloaked in shadows, and for the first time in a very long while, he didn’t know what to do.He wasn’t a man easily shaken. Not by market crashes, political scandals, or the vicious games of media warfare. But this—Luna, her voice, those words—had left a crack in his armor. A slow, splintering fault line he couldn’t ignore.> “This will be my last job.”That phrase wouldn’t stop echoing.And worse… she hadn’t sounde

Luna moved past George, her heart pounding, but she refused to let it show. She could feel his gaze on her back, a weight that pressed down heavily. The echo of her heels against the wooden floor filled the silence, and she quickened her pace, needing to escape the tension that swirled around them.As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, the scent of coffee lingered, juxtaposing the turmoil inside her. She poured herself a cup, willing the warmth to seep into her bones, to chase away the chill that settled in after last night. The bustling sounds of the house felt alien, too cheerful for the shadows lurking in her mind.“ Ma Luna!” Ava’s voice broke through her thoughts. The maid entered the kitchen, a bright smile plastered on her face as she arranged fresh flowers on the table. “You’re up early! How was your night?”Luna forced a smile, though it felt brittle on her lips. “Just fine, Ava. Thank you.”Ava’s gaze flickered with concern, but she busied herself with the flowers, giv

Morning arrived in muted shades of gray, the kind that made New York feel like it was holding its breath.Rain slid down the penthouse windows in slow rivulets, tracing crooked paths through the glass. The skyline beyond was hazy, as though the city was wrapped in gauze.Luna stood in the kitchen, barefoot on the cool marble, her hands curled around a steaming mug of coffee. She wasn’t drinking it. The steam brushed her lips and dissipated into the air, curling upward toward the pendant lights.Her gaze wasn’t on anything in particular just fixed on the far wall, where a faint reflection of herself wavered in the polished black of the refrigerator door.Something felt different.Not colder. Not warmer. Just… watched.She took a slow breath, forcing herself to dismiss the feeling. It was the fatigue, she told herself. The crash had rattled more than just her body. Sleep had been shallow, broken by flashes of memory metal groaning, glass shattering, the violent jolt of impact.And somew