บททั้งหมดของ Bullied Wife In A Contract Marriage : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

~ Adrian ~ I sat in the corner booth of 'The Rusty Hull'. This bar was a relic of the old city. It was a place where the floorboards groaned under the weight of secrets, and the air smelled of stale hops and wet wood. I liked it here because the Moore family’s influence felt thin. Most people in this room didn't care about stock prices or corporate mergers. I checked my watch for the fourth time in ten minutes. Amara was late. That wasn't like her. The woman I had watched for months was many things—quiet, reserved, and overlooked—but she was never unreliable. I worried that Gideon's mother had already made her move. I adjusted the collar of my coat, feeling the small, cold weight of the flash drive in my pocket. It had been my insurance policy for five years. I never thought I would actually use it. The bell above the heavy wooden door jingled. Amara stepped inside, her silhouette sharp against the streetlights of the rainy alley. She scanned the room with a gaze that was no longer

~ Gideon ~The dining room at Moore Crest was a cavern of cold marble and high ceilings. The massive chandelier hung like a frozen explosion above the long mahogany table. It gave off a sharp, clinical light that made everything look sterile. I stood in the heavy oak doorway and watched my mother. Helena Moore sat at the head of the table. She was alone. A single place setting sat before her. She was eating a clear consommé with a silver spoon. Every movement she made was precise. Every gesture was practiced. She looked like a queen on a throne made of ice. She did not see me yet. I felt the blue manila folder in my right hand. It felt heavy. It felt like a bomb.I walked into the room. My shoes hit the polished floor with a rhythmic strike. It sounded like a clock ticking down. I did not wait for an invitation. I did not offer a greeting. I stopped at the opposite end of the table. I watched the steam rise from her bowl. The smell of her cloying rose perfume filled the air. It made m

~ Amara ~I stepped down from the heavy wooden platform. My legs felt like they were made of lead. The adrenaline that had carried me through the last hour was starting to fade, leaving behind a deep, bone-deep exhaustion. The room behind me was still full of noise. Reporters were shouting my name, waving their hands, and fighting for one last quote. They wanted more details about the Moore family. They wanted to know about the "experimental treatment" I had mentioned on stage. I kept my head down and did not look back. I didn't want to see the flashing lights anymore. I walked toward the side exit, my heels clicking a fast, rhythmic pattern on the hard floor. I pushed through the heavy oak doors and stepped into the long, empty hallway.The door clicked shut behind me. The roar of the press club became a muffled hum. I leaned my back against the cool wood and closed my eyes. The air in the hallway was much cooler than the stage. It smelled of floor wax and old dust. I took a long, sh

~ Amara ~The white walls of the gallery were so bright they made my eyes ache. It was a different kind of brightness than the cold, clinical lights of Helix Tower. Here, the light served a purpose. It made the colors on the canvases come alive. I stood in the center of the room, holding a glass of sparkling water. I wore a sharp black dress that I had bought myself. I did not need a stylist to tell me I looked adequate. I felt solid. I felt real.The room was full of people. I heard the low hum of their voices and the clinking of their glasses. For months, I had been the "Silent Moore." I had been the woman who took up as little space as possible. Now, people were here to see what I had to say. They weren't looking at my background or my clothes. They were looking at my soul, hung up on the walls in frames of dark wood.I walked toward the back of the gallery. This was the spot for the centerpiece. I had spent weeks on this painting. I used the charcoal Noah had given me and the expe

~ Amara ~The cold air hit me as soon as I pushed through the heavy glass doors of Helix Tower. The rain stayed thin and gray, turning the city into a blur of concrete and lights. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment and took a deep breath. The air smelled like damp pavement and old exhaust. It felt better than the dusty, empty office I had just left. Gideon stepped out behind me. He did not have a coat. He did not have an umbrella. His white shirt started to soak through immediately. He just stood there next to me. He looked lost. He looked like my drawings. He did not look like the King of Logistics anymore. I saw the water dripping from his hair. It ran down his face and into his collar. He looked exhausted. He had deep circles under his eyes. I felt a tug in my chest. For months, I had wanted to see him lose. I had wanted him to feel the cold that I had felt. Now that he was standing in the rain with nothing, I did not feel happy. I felt power. I realized I held his life in my han