บททั้งหมดของ The Contract Wife of Mr. Black: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

From the corner of my eyes I saw it.From the deeper shadows at the end of the hall, near the emergency exit, a shape detached itself and moved. It was a blur of controlled violence. One moment the man’s sour breath was on my face. The next, he was gasping, a choked sound of pure pain, as he was wrenched backward and spun around.I was in shock.Was that... Rowan? Rowan Cole had the man’s arm twisted up behind his back at a brutal, unnatural angle. He applied pressure with an effortless, terrifying grace, using the man’s own bulk against him. Rowan’s face was a mask of calm concentration. He wasn’t even breathing hard. “The lady,” Rowan said, his voice perfectly even, almost conversational, “said ‘let go’. You have a hearing problem?” The man whimpered, his face pressed against the stained wallpaper. Rowan increased the pressure by a single, precise degree. A sickening, wet pop echoed in the confined space. The man’s scream was short, cut off as Rowan shoved him forward. The

I woke in Adrian’s bed, alone but still wrapped in the scent of him. The linen shirt I’d slept in was twisted around my body, a tangible reminder of the new, suffocating proximity. Margaret arrived with a breakfast tray and a steely expression. “Mr. Blackwood asked that you eat, Miss Elera. He’s arranged for a stylist to arrive at noon. The gala is this evening.” The gala. The day passed in a blur of plucking, primping, and paralyzing anxiety. A team of three women descended, turning me into a version of myself I barely recognized. My skin was buffed, my hair coiled into an intricate, elegant updo, my face painted with a subtle, expensive palette designed to make me look “effortlessly radiant.” The gown arrived at four. It was a weapon dressed in silk. Emerald green, the exact shade of my eyes when I was furious or afraid. The neckline was deceptively modest, but the back plunged to the very base of my spine. It hugged every curve before flaring into a slight, graceful t

Alexander chuckled, holding up his hands in a gesture of playful surrender. “My apologies, Elera. I didn’t mean to startle you.” His smile was wide, charming, and utterly disarming. “I was just at the Verge Lounge—you know it, over on 5th?”“The club?” I asked, my voice sounding too small in the vaulted silence of the portico.“Of course! The whole place is buzzing about you two. A honeymoon, I had to swing by and offer my congratulations in person.”He stepped fully into the light, looking genuinely delighted. In the stark glare of the entrance lights, I could see the family resemblance—the same strong jaw, the same intense dark eyes as Adrian. But where Adrian’s gaze was a stormy sea, Alexander’s was a sunlit, shallow pond. Beautiful, but you could see straight to the bottom. And the bottom was all polished stone.“You both looked spectacular tonight, by the way,” he continued, his gaze warm and appreciative, lingering on me just a beat too long to be polite. “Elera, that emerald dr

Rowan Cole had dealt with threats before. They usually came wrapped in legal language, quiet bribes, men or women who believed volume could replace leverage. Mila was none of those things. She didn’t shout. She didn’t pace. She sat across from him in the private lounge of Blackwood Tower, one leg crossed over the other, phone resting loosely in her hand as if it were nothing more than an accessory. The city glowed behind her through the floor-to-ceiling glass, all money and secrets and height. She smiled at him. That was the problem. “You’re ignoring me,” she said lightly, as if commenting on the weather. “Which tells me one thing.” Rowan didn’t respond. He took a measured sip of his espresso, eyes steady on her face. Calm was his currency. He never spent it early. “That you know exactly where she is,” Mila continued. “And you think if you stay quiet long enough, I’ll go away.” Her smile widened. Not warm. Calculated. “I don’t go away.” Rowan set the cup down. “Miss Ivers

"What's so funny?" Adrian looked up from his phone, still wearing that faint, private smile. It transformed him—softened the hard angles, made him look almost boyish. Almost human. Elera hadn't seen him smile like that. "Nothing," he said. "I'm... managing something." He said with a small deep laugh. Serena. The He pocketed the phone. The moment passed. But Elera stored it away—that smile, its recipient, the way it had arrived and vanished like a creature afraid of light. Serena. She said nothing. --- The boat cut through turquoise water, the mainland long since swallowed by haze. Elera gripped the rail, salt wind stripping the perfume from her hair, and watched the island take shape on the horizon. Private. Unmarked. No name on any map she could find. Adrian stood beside her, one hand braced on the console, utterly still. He hadn't touched her since they boarded. Hadn't performed a single gesture for an invisible audience. She didn't know if that made it