The Billionaire's Contract Wife 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 101 - 챕터 110

The past didn’t return with violence.It came with paper.Jordan noticed the envelope first because it didn’t belong among the others. No return address. Heavy stock. Cream-colored, unmarked, slid beneath the door sometime before dawn.Grace was still asleep when he picked it up.For a moment, the old instincts stirred—cataloging threats, mapping consequences, preparing responses. He let the feeling rise, then pass. He carried the envelope to the kitchen and opened it carefully.Inside was a single page.No letterhead. No signature.Just words.You built something that outlived you.Jordan read it twice.There was no accusation. No demand. No warning. And that unsettled him more than any overt threat ever had.Grace appeared in the doorway, hair loose, wrapped in one of his sweaters. “You’re up early.”He held up the paper. “This arrived.”She crossed the room, reading over his shoulder. He felt her stillness before she spoke.“They found you,” she said quietly.“Maybe,” Jordan replie

The building didn’t look powerful.That was the first warning.Grace noticed it as soon as the car slowed—a clean structure of glass and pale stone tucked between older institutions that wore their authority loudly. No banners. No guards at the door. No press waiting to be impressed.Just quiet.Jordan followed her gaze. “They chose neutral ground.”“Or deniable ground,” Grace replied.Inside, everything smelled faintly of citrus and polished wood. A woman greeted them by name without checking a list. Her smile was warm, professional, forgettable—the kind designed to fade the moment you stopped looking at it.“Mr. and Mrs. Hayes,” she said. “They’re ready for you.”Jordan felt the word they land heavily.The room was circular. No head of the table. No visible hierarchy. Five people waited, already seated, already watching.No introductions.Another warning.Jordan took the seat offered, Grace beside him. He didn’t cross his legs. He didn’t lean back. He met their eyes calmly, one by o

The name arrived disguised as coincidence.Grace heard it first on the morning news, drifting softly from the television as she poured coffee in the kitchen.“…sources confirm that the advisory board has expanded to include independent consultants, among them Victor Calder…”Her hand stilled mid-pour.The mug overflowed.“Jordan,” she said quietly.He looked up from his tablet immediately. “What?”She turned the volume up.The anchor continued, voice smooth and indifferent. “Calder, known for his strategic work during the early Hayes conglomerate restructuring, returns to public advisory after nearly two decades of absence.”Jordan’s face drained of color.The tablet slipped from his hands onto the counter.“No,” he breathed.Grace shut off the TV. The silence that followed was heavy—old, familiar in a way she didn’t like.“You know him,” she said.Jordan leaned back against the counter, eyes distant. “I wish I didn’t.”He rubbed a hand over his face, the motion slow, grounding. “Vict

The city didn’t sleep that night.Neither did Grace.She sat cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees, eyes burning but focused. Files layered across the screen—corporate records, redacted minutes, shell-company registries that folded into each other like origami designed to confuse.But confusion left patterns.And patterns could be broken.Across the room, Jordan spoke quietly into his phone, voice controlled but edged. “No—don’t respond yet. Let it sit. If we move too quickly, Calder will change tactics.”He ended the call and turned to her. “You should rest.”Grace didn’t look up. “In five minutes.”He watched her for a moment, then walked over, kneeling beside the couch. “You’ve been at this for hours.”“And I found something,” she said.That got his attention.She turned the screen toward him. “Victor Calder didn’t just advise during the restructuring. He personally signed off on three asset transfers that were later declared ‘administrative errors.’”Jordan frown

The key was cold in Grace’s palm. Its weight was deceptively light, but every edge carried a history she couldn’t yet read. Jordan watched her, expression taut, as they stood outside the wrought iron gate of the property Calder had sent them to.“This place,” Jordan said quietly, “hasn’t been touched in years. My father used it as a safe house… or a warning to anyone who crossed him.”Grace ran her fingers along the gate. “It looks abandoned.”“Appearances are the first trick,” Jordan said. “Don’t let it fool you.”The lock was old, rusted in places, but the key slid in effortlessly. A soft click echoed, startling in the stillness.Jordan gave her a reassuring glance. “You first.”Grace nodded. She stepped forward, pushing the heavy door open. Inside, dust motes danced in the beams of late-afternoon sunlight. Furniture lay covered with sheets, the air smelled of cedar and time, and every step they took creaked against the hardwood floors.“Feels like a museum,” Grace whispered.“Or a