All Chapters of Married to the billionaire by contract : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Elena woke before the sun had fully solved the darkness, a habitual early rise after nights of hospital vigil. The penthouse felt unfamiliar and perfectly still, as if the building itself held its breath until the day began. She dressed slowly, choosing a plain blouse and slacks that would read as quietly elegant but not showy—something Hannah would approve of, she thought, and something she could stand in facing whichever lessons the day would hand her.A soft knock at the door announced Hannah, who entered with a measured smile and a tray balanced like a small ritual. “Good morning, Mrs. Kingstone,” she said, placing a cup of coffee and a plate of toast on the table. Her hair was pulled back in a tight knot that showed the outlines of her careful life. “You have a light morning. No formal events until the afternoon. Mr. Kingstone is in the office.”“Thank you,” Elena said, and the ordinary offering of coffee felt like an anchor. She wrapped her hands around the cup, letting the warm

The dinner was supposed to be a quiet affair—just a few close associates and the household staff who managed the foundation’s logistics. The long dining table gleamed under soft lamps, crystal glasses arranged like little watchful moons. Elena sat near the center, a careful distance from the formal guests but close enough to feel like part of the night’s choreography. Maria moved like a practiced conductor, and Rosa hovered with a tray, cheeks warm with the energy of someone proud to serve.“Elena,” Rosa said softly as she placed a plate before her, “try the stew. The chef added a new herb.”Elena smiled, touched by the smallness of the moment. “It smells perfect,” she answered. “Thank you, Rosa.” Her voice was quiet, but it carried an honest appreciation that made Rosa’s shoulders relax.Across the table, Damian listened with the same composed interest he gave to business conversations. He asked questions that cut to specifics: the timing of a project, the budget lines, the philanthr

Victoria Hale arrived on a Tuesday, the kind of day that felt ordinary until sharp things happened inside it. She walked into the penthouse with the same clipped step she always used—heels that sounded like clocks, posture so exact it looked engineered. Her blonde hair was rolled into a perfect chignon, and her suit was a dark slice of authority. She carried a slim portfolio and a face that rehearsed civility until it became real.“Hannah called ahead,” she said as soon as the door closed behind her. Her voice was cool and polite, but there was an edge under it like a scalpel under silk. “I wanted to meet with you, Ms. Carter. A brief orientation about the upcoming board event and media expectations.”Elena stood from the chaise and smoothed her dress with hands that felt oddly clumsy. “Of course,” she answered, voice steady though her stomach made a small, insistent movement. Victoria’s visits always felt like small tests. The last time they’d shared a room had been paperwork and pos

The foundation’s luncheon took place in a glass-walled room that looked out over the river, the light pouring in like a promise. Tables were set with precise centerpieces—white orchids, low and elegant—and place cards printed in a font that suggested permanence. Elena felt the weight of the room as soon as she entered: people who made decisions that turned into buildings, sponsorships, and quietly whispered favors. The air smelled faintly of lemon and perfume, and the gentle hum of conversation moved like a tide.Hannah guided Elena to their table with gentle efficiency, smoothing the back of her dress in a way that made Elena feel cared for and conspicuous at once. Damian walked beside her with his usual quiet authority; he scanned the room with quick, accurate motions, greeting a few people with his measured nod. Elena watched him move—efficient, composed, always aware—then felt the small pinch of nerves and steadied herself.“Remember the talking points,” Hannah whispered as they s

The knock had been sharp enough to stop the air between them, and Elena’s hand still trembled as she crossed the kitchen. The light shifted in the windows, gold rubbing up against the late afternoon. Damian stood a breath behind her, the line of his silhouette quieter than any sentence he might speak.“Elena,” he said once, low and steady. “Please.”She put her hand on the doorknob and breathed in. The sound in her chest felt too large for the room. Her fingers turned the metal and the door opened on Victoria Hale, all composure and clipped heels, a slim envelope held like a small weapon in one pale hand.“Ms. Carter,” Victoria said, voice as smooth as silk and as cold as glass. “I apologize for the interruption.” She stepped in without waiting for an invitation, the way some people believed the world ought to bend to courtesy. “There’s a matter we need to address.”Elena kept her hand on the door between them like a shield. “What is it?”Victoria’s eyes flicked to Damian with a court