All Chapters of His Contract Mistress: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The morning after the warehouse, Aria woke to silence.Ethan wasn’t in bed. The sheets beside her were cold.She rose, slipping into one of his shirts, and padded barefoot through the penthouse. The television glowed in the corner of the living room, a news anchor’s voice sharp and urgent.Her heart stuttered when she read the headline:“Blackwood Corporation Under Federal Investigation.”Ethan stood in front of the screen, glass of whiskey in hand though the sun had barely risen. His shoulders were rigid, eyes bloodshot.“What happened?” Aria whispered.He didn’t turn. “Nathaniel happened.”The anchor continued: “Unconfirmed sources allege Blackwood Corporation engaged in illegal offshore dealings, with evidence provided anonymously late last night…”Aria pressed a hand to her lips. Anonymous evidence. Only one man could have delivered it.Nathaniel.By noon, the headquarters was chaos.Reporters swarmed the building, microphones flashing. Board members whispered in corners, panic ba

The ballroom glittered like a jewel box—crystal chandeliers, golden champagne, gowns worth more than Aria’s yearly salary before she met Ethan.Now she stood at the top of the marble staircase on his arm, a diamond on her finger and the weight of the world on her shoulders.Cameras flashed as they descended. Guests whispered, their smiles razor-sharp.There she is. The mistress turned fiancée. The scandal wrapped in silk.Ethan’s hand never left her waist, a claim as firm as iron. “Smile,” he murmured against her ear. “You’re the future Mrs. Blackwood.”Her lips curved, but her chest tightened.As the night wore on, the sharks circled.A blonde socialite drifted over, her voice dripping sugar. “Aria, isn’t it? You must tell us—what’s it like to capture Ethan Blackwood’s heart? Many of us thought it impossible.”Aria’s stomach knotted. Capture? It felt more like being captured.But Ethan’s fingers pressed into her hip, warning. She smiled politely. “I suppose impossible things happen e

Aria told herself a hundred times not to go. She repeated it while slipping into a black dress that hugged her curves. She repeated it while brushing her hair, while checking the time, while watching Ethan’s broad back as he stood at the window, talking on the phone with someone about mergers and acquisitions.Every time her conscience screamed stay, her curiosity whispered louder: what if Nathaniel’s truth is the key to surviving Ethan?By midnight, Ethan was buried in a late-night conference call. Aria slipped on her heels, took her coat, and left the penthouse without a sound.The note had led her to an old jazz lounge downtown. Hidden. Seedy. The kind of place she’d never step into if not for desperation.Cigarette smoke curled in the air, dim lights casting shadows on the velvet booths. A man in a fedora crooned into a microphone, his voice low and smooth.And there he was. Nathaniel Blackwood.Leaning casually in a booth at the back, whiskey glass in hand, his dark eyes locked o

Aria’s eyes fluttered open to sunlight spilling across silk sheets. For a moment, she thought she’d dreamed the last two nights—the secret meeting with Nathaniel, the photograph in Ethan’s drawer, the choking doubt in her chest.But then Ethan’s deep voice cut through the morning quiet.“Good. You’re awake.”He stood at the foot of the bed, already dressed in a perfectly tailored suit. His presence filled the room—sharp, commanding, undeniable.Aria sat up, pulling the sheets around her. “What time is it?”“Late enough.” His eyes flicked over her, lingering on her bare shoulders. “Pack your things.”Her stomach dropped. “Pack? Why?”“We’re leaving.”“Leaving?” Her voice wavered. “Where?”His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Somewhere private. Somewhere no one can touch us.”Aria’s pulse raced. “Ethan, I have work—my mother—”“I’ve taken care of everything.” He stepped closer, his gaze burning into hers. “You don’t need to think. You only need to follow.”Her thro

Dinner was a feast laid across a marble table: candlelight flickering against crystal glasses, the scent of roasted lamb mingling with sea salt drifting in from the terrace.Ethan sat opposite Aria, his posture perfect, his expression unreadable. He poured wine into her glass himself, his eyes fixed on her like a predator watching prey.She forced herself to smile, though the memory of the phone call still burned in her chest.“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said at last, swirling his glass of red. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”Her fingers trembled against the stem of her glass. “I’m… overwhelmed, I suppose. This place. You. Everything.”Ethan’s lips curved faintly, but his gaze sharpened. “Overwhelmed. Not unhappy?”“Of course not.” She reached for her fork too quickly, cutting into her food without tasting it.He watched her for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair. “Do you trust me, Aria?”The question cut sharper than a knife.“Yes,” she said automatically.“Do you love