Todos os capítulos de MARRIED TO THE CEO BY CONTRACT: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

That night, Elara had trouble sleeping. Not because of fear but because of possibility.She relived the moment Alessandro said he would change the terms as she lay awake. The meaning behind the words was anything but straightforward, almost clinical. Alessandro De Luca did not lightly amend terms. They came from him. He upheld them. The fact that he had offered to change anything at all unsettled her more than his earlier anger had.She had made a decision by morning. She would approach any subsequent situation in the same manner as she did the initial contract: calmly, rationally, and without expectation. Later that day, when she entered the study, the usual clutter had been removed from the table. An individual folder was in its place. Black. Unmarked.Alessandro stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back.Without looking around, he said, "You asked for clarity." "This is the end." She made her way to the table after closing the door behind her. "Is this a replacement or an

Elara chose the hotel because it was anonymous.No paparazzi. No familiar faces. No reminders of the life she had stepped out of, even temporarily. The room was simple, neutral colours, clean lines, and a single window overlooking a busy street.She liked that the city didn’t know her.She woke early, the lingering ache in her chest dull but persistent. Leaving had been harder than she’d expected. Not because she doubted the decision but because she hadn’t realised how deeply Alessandro had woven himself into her sense of stability.That frightened her.She showered, dressed, and went downstairs for coffee, blending into the morning rush. For the first time in weeks, no one stared. No one whispered.She breathed easier.Her phone buzzed once.A message from Alessandro.Please talk to me.She stared at the screen for a long moment… then turned it face down.Back at the estate, Alessandro had already broken his own rules.He hadn’t slept.The house felt wrong without Elara’s presence, n

The invitation arrived through a private channel.Not an email. Not a call.A courier-delivered envelope, thick cream paper, no letterhead, only her name written neatly on the front.Elara knew who it was from before she opened it.Marcus Hale didn’t repeat tactics. He refined them.Inside was a formal proposal: funding, global exposure, and immediate launch support for her foundation. The terms were generous, almost absurdly so.Too generous.She read it slowly, pulse steady, mind sharp.No mention of Alessandro.No overt conditions.But power never offered gifts without expectation.She folded the document and sat back, staring out the window. This was exactly the kind of offer that would legitimize her work overnight. Silence the sceptics. Remove the “wife of the CEO” qualifier permanently.And that was the danger.Because it wasn’t neutral.It was strategic.Later that afternoon, she met Sofia for coffee.“This is how he operates,” Sofia said after reading the proposal. “He positi

Just before dawn, the message arrived. Not a danger. Not a caution. a call to action. Elara read it twice, then set her phone down carefully, as if sudden movement might fracture her resolve.Hearing in private for arbitration. Requested by: Valentina Russo.Subject: Review of De Luca Holdings' and Elara Foundation's conflicts of interest.Valentina had only one lever left. Not out of rage or fear, Elara felt the familiar tightening in her chest. Recognition. At this point, ambiguity would be used as a weapon, timelines would be manipulated to suggest impropriety, and optics would take precedence over truth. Alessandro found her in the kitchen, coffee cooling untouched in her hands.After reading the notice, he said, "She’s going to argue influence." That an unfair advantage was created by my prior authority. Elara gave a nod. "Despite the fact that the board removed you." He said, "That's the point." They'll claim that the harm has already been done. Elara put the cup away. “Then we

The invitation arrived on thick, cream-coloured paper.Elara recognised the seal immediately.The Meridian Summit.It was the kind of gathering that pretended to be about ideas while quietly rearranging power. Attendance was selective. Visibility is unavoidable.She read the card once, then set it down.Alessandro noticed.“You don’t have to go,” he said.“I know,” Elara replied. “That’s not why I will.”The summit was scheduled for a Saturday evening, neutral territory. No speeches. No panels. Just presence.She chose her dress carefully. Not dramatic. Not subdued. Something that felt unmistakably hers. The kind of choice she no longer second-guessed.They arrived together.Not announced.Not hidden.Just… together.The room shifted almost imperceptibly when they entered.Elara felt it—the recalibration. Eyes flicked. Conversations slowed, then resumed. People noticed the absence of explanation more than the presence of proximity.Alessandro didn’t guide her. Didn’t hover. He simply