His Contract Mistress의 모든 챕터: 챕터 101 - 챕터 110

Morning light bled through the curtains, turning the marble floor gold. Aria hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes she saw flashes—Ethan’s blood-stained hands, the man’s gun, the look in Ethan’s eyes when he said I’ll make sure no one else can have you.Now she sat at his desk, the one he never let anyone touch. A single password-protected laptop gleamed beside a glass of half-melted ice.She hesitated. If he caught her, the storm would break again. But she needed answers.Her fingers hovered, then began to type. She guessed his passcodes—birthdates, numbers, words that might mean something to him. Nothing worked.Then she tried the one name she thought he’d never dare use. Her own.The screen unlocked.Her stomach twisted as the files opened: offshore accounts, coded transfers, documents stamped with a black sigil she didn’t recognize—a circle split by a single dagger. Next to each were names, dates, and one column marked Collateral.Her name was there. Next to it, a number: $

Dawn painted the penthouse in silver. Aria stood at the window, watching the city wake. The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled like thunder. Ethan had barely spoken since their argument—he’d gone to the office before sunrise, leaving a security detail posted outside her door.She was officially a prisoner now.But fear had turned into resolve.She had spent half the night memorizing the floor’s security system. The guard rotation. The code on the private elevator. Ethan thought he’d locked her world shut, but he’d forgotten one thing—he’d taught her how to survive him.She opened the drawer beside the bed, revealing a small access card she’d swiped from his desk days ago. Her pulse jumped. If she timed it right, she’d have twenty minutes before anyone noticed she was gone.She slipped into jeans and a coat, hiding the card inside her sleeve.Then she looked back at the room—the silk sheets, the polished glass, the fragments of a life built on lies—and whispered, “No more.”Et

The fire in Nathaniel’s study had burned low, its light flickering against the tall windows. Aria sat at the desk, the folder he had left in front of her unopened.Outside, rain drummed softly against the glass, the rhythm steady as a heartbeat.She stared at the folder for a long time. A single word was stamped across the cover in bold, black ink.BLACKWOOD.It felt like the name itself carried weight, like saying it aloud might summon the storm.Her fingers shook as she reached for it.The FileInside were photographs—grainy, old, some taken overseas. Ethan with men she didn’t recognize. Some meetings looked formal, others dangerous. In one, he was shaking hands with a man wearing a black ring carved with the same dagger-and-circle emblem from the files she’d seen.She turned the pages. There were transactions in multiple currencies, hidden companies, and government seals she didn’t understand. But every few pages, one thing repeated.Her name.Aria Morgan. Linked to numbered accoun

The ocean wind swept through the narrow Lisbon streets, carrying the scent of salt and diesel and rain-washed stone. Aria walked fast, her hood drawn low over her face. The morning sun was soft and gold, but her nerves buzzed like static.Every instinct told her she was being watched.She passed a café with blue-tiled walls, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. People laughed over coffee and pastel de nata. The normalcy of it all ached.She slipped into a corner seat, her back to the wall, her laptop open.Her fingers trembled as she reconnected to the encrypted archive Nathaniel had exposed. The words Project Silas pulsed in the header, stark black against white.She clicked.The FileA video opened—grainy footage, time-stamped fifteen years ago.A man in a lab coat was speaking into the camera, his face shadowed. “Phase One concluded. The genetic material was stabilized. Subject C has approved continuation under her daughter’s identity—Subject A.M.—to preserve access to Blackw

The morning broke pale and thin over Porto Santo, light seeping through the cloud cover like water through cracks in stone. The Silas Institute sat at the island’s highest ridge, its broken windows glinting faintly. From below it looked dead. From inside, Aria Morgan could feel the slow, stubborn pulse of machines still breathing in the dark.She followed Dr Clara Voss down a stairwell that smelled of rust and brine. The air was heavy with the residue of chemicals, the hum of backup generators echoing through the halls.“Your mother built most of this herself,” Clara said quietly. “She believed information could outlive blood.”“And Ethan believed blood could control information,” Aria answered.Neither spoke again until they reached the lower level. Rows of glass tubes lined the corridor, each one fogged from within, each tagged with a code. Most were empty; some held fragments—vials, samples, names half-erased by mold.Aria’s stomach twisted. “These were… people?”“Prototypes,” Clar