บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire's Contract Wife : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The penthouse felt different after the chaos—quieter, heavier, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Police officers moved in and out, speaking in clipped tones. Security teams scanned every corner like shadows. But beneath all that movement, one truth pulsed loudest:Someone dangerous was still out there.Elara stood beside the kitchen island, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her eyes drifted repeatedly toward Kaelan’s study, where he’d taken Genevieve after the police left.He’d been in there for nearly an hour.Every instinct screamed at her to walk away, to leave before she witnessed something she wasn’t ready for. But her feet refused to move. Something about the way Genevieve had clung to him earlier gnawed at her, a cold ache she couldn’t ignore.When the door finally opened, Kaelan stepped out first.His expression was unreadable—too controlled, too calm for someone who had just fought off a knife-wielding intruder. His gaze flicked to Elara, but it held no

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but Elara didn’t move. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs, her fingers clutched around her phone as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality.“She’s not the victim.But you’ll be.”The words burned behind her eyes.A hand slid between the closing doors, forcing them apart.“Elara.”Kaelan’s voice.Her head jerked up.He stood there in the hallway—broad-shouldered, tense, frustration and worry hidden beneath a cool mask. But when he saw her pale face and trembling hands, something in him shifted sharply.“What happened?” he asked, stepping into the elevator.Elara opened her mouth, but nothing came out.Kaelan’s jaw tightened. “Elara. Talk to me.”She swallowed hard. “I—I needed air. I went outside for a minute, and then…” She held up her phone.His eyes dropped to the screen. For a second, his entire body went still.“Elara,” he said slowly, measured, “where did you get this message?”“I don’t know. The number’s not s

The gala hall glittered like a kingdom built entirely from light. Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the ceiling, casting soft gold across velvet drapes and polished marble floors. Amina felt the attention shift the moment she and Damian stepped inside, their hands loosely linked, their footsteps perfectly in sync.Damian leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. “Ignore them. They stare at everything that moves.”Easy for him to say. He was born for this world—polished, powerful, knowing exactly how to command a room. Amina swallowed, forcing her spine straight as they moved past the first wave of guests.“You’re doing great,” Damian whispered again, his fingers tightening around hers in silent reassurance.She had no idea whether he meant it for the cameras or… for himself.A few reporters tried to approach, but Damian’s security flanked them with clean efficiency. Amina noticed the way his jaw flexed each time someone got too close. He was calm, but underlying that calm was a tens

For a heartbeat, no one moved.The gala hall—seconds ago a swirl of music and laughter—fell into a suffocating silence. Damian’s grip on Amina tightened, instinctively protective, even as confusion and dread carved through his expression.“Who are you?” he asked again, his voice low, dangerous.The woman swallowed hard. “My name is Celeste. I was working across the street the night of the accident. And I—I saw what really happened.”Damian’s jaw clenched so sharply Amina heard the faint grind of his teeth.Security guards began to edge closer, but Damian raised a hand—an order to stand down. His eyes never left the trembling woman.“Speak,” he commanded.Celeste’s hands shook so violently she had to grip her clutch to steady them. “It wasn’t an accident the way they reported. Genevieve didn’t fall because of you. She didn’t slip. Someone pushed her.”A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers.Amina felt her breath steal away. Pushed?Damian’s face went white—then ashen with disb

The house felt unusually quiet that morning, the kind of silence that made every breath sound louder than it should. Elena woke up to the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint scent of Noah’s cologne lingering on the sheets beside her. He had left early again—before sunrise, before she could even reach out to ask why he’d been retreating deeper into his thoughts lately.She pushed herself up, the memory of last night flashing briefly—his tense jaw, the way he had avoided her eyes, the strange phone call that made him step out of the room.Something was wrong. She felt it in her bones.A knock came at the door.“Elena?” It was Mrs. Grayson, the head housekeeper. Her tone was polite yet oddly careful, as if she were approaching a fragile object. “Mr. Carter asked me to inform you that he won’t be home until late evening. He said you should… rest today.”Rest? Elena almost laughed. How was she supposed to rest when everything felt like it was falling apart?“Thank you,” she said