All Chapters of Rebirth and Contracted to the CEO : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Sam's POVThat night’s meal took place inside a massive dining room meant to awe anyone who entered. Hanging above, crystal lights spilled soft gold rays across the dark wood table stretched wide. Knives and forks shone bright under the glow. Smells of slow-cooked lamb curled through the air, mixed with earthy truffle, deep wine notes clinging low. Seen from outside, the scene might seem polished, calm, everything in its right place.Battlefield - that’s how it felt to me.Halfway down the seat, I stayed upright without stiffness, mostly quiet while tuning in. Watching came first for me now - noting details, sorting them out, spotting patterns.One of them - right here at this table - played a part in killing me before. It was someone I’d been sharing meals with.Midway through dinner, I began sorting faces without a word. Quietly, one by one slipped off the list inside my head.First: Cousin Victor.Two spots away f

Sam's POVLong past midnight, the event still pulsed with energy as the grand room shimmered under lights, now less a hall than a stage where influence sparkled alongside sequins, each smile hinting at hunger beneath. The air held weight - elegance laced with quiet striving.Shards of light danced on stone tiles under glittering glass arms hanging above. Music curled through the room, low and warm, slipping between words people tried to say. Sounds of joy came fast, sharp, filling spaces where silence might have been. Bubbles rose in tall glasses, poured again and again without asking. Smells crowded together - rich scents, secrets passing lips, eyes watching who might win next.Through the crowd I walked, Ethan’s fingers pressed low on my spine, heat seeping past the light green fabric. Not once did the shutter sounds fade, yet we stood close, him tall in control, me beside him calm, faces lit like a scene meant to be seen.Still, I caught each quiet

Sam's POVAcross the dance floor, his voice lingered behind each step. Not silence but sound filled the space between us now. Every motion carried a trace of what he said. Movement didn’t quiet it - only shifted its weight. His phrase repeated without needing breath. With each turn, the tone found new corners. It stayed close, even when feet pulled far.“Let them talk. We’ll give them something real to see.”Warmth pressed into my side where his hand rested, fingers steady against the thin silk. Under shimmering lights we moved, slow and timed, near enough to feel breath but never too far from what others expected. Around us, eyes lingered, words hushed, lenses caught every tilt of our shoulders. Cedar curled in the air, sharp with something darker, familiar like memory yet edged with risk.Just for seconds, everything else faded - only we stayed, moving quiet beneath the song's hush, skin warm where hands met, caught by how he wat

Ethan's POVBy now, the party hummed at its tipping point - bubbles pricking loose secrets, defenses thinning like mist. Champagne did its work, voices grew bold, caution slipped sideways.Close to the ballroom's rim, my arm rested on Sam’s hip, while fingers curled round a drink left mostly alone. This evening unfolded as choreographed gestures - grins aimed at lenses, small talk threaded through trustee chatter, whispers trailing us like fog. Yet next to Sam, acting didn’t take hold. At least, not completely.That steady calm of hers - so quiet, so sure - I could not quite figure it out. Each snide remark, each nosy comment, each stare that lingered too long… she faced without flinching. With every one, a knot formed deep inside me, low and heavy.Her pride showed clear that day.Farther than expected, honestly.A few directors stood close by, chuckling louder than needed, glasses tilting as if balance meant nothing. The

Sam's POVA whisper stayed there, sharp as a match strike. Ethan had spoken. The air caught fire.“This doesn’t feel fake to me anymore.”Out here in the thick of violin tunes and chandeliers dripping light, his words slipped quiet against my ear - just for me. My fingers stayed caught in his grip while his thumb traced slow circles near the bones of my hand, warmth creeping despite myself. Music stopped breathing, yet neither moved; heels still touching polished floors, faces near enough to share air, everything else melting behind fog.One risky pulse, then I allowed the feeling through.His fingers brought heat. A soft burn lingered where he brushed skin. That contact stayed long after it ended.The intensity in his dark eyes.Close, he tilted his frame near me - shielding yet pulled in. Not quite touching but already tangled.Easy it would have felt, just to give in. A small tilt forward, that was all it t