บททั้งหมดของ My Ex Fiancé wants be back, but my contract husband owns me: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Unknown POVThe fluorescent lights in the office hummed their usual monotonous tune, a constant background drone that most people stopped noticing after the first week. I had noticed it on day one and never stopped. It was one of the small details that kept me grounded — a reminder that I was still here, still invisible, still moving through the world like a shadow no one bothered to look at twice. I sat at my small desk in the corner, the wobbly leg propped up with a folded piece of cardboard I’d placed there months ago. No one had ever commented on it. No one ever would.My name didn’t matter today. It rarely did. To them — to Damian, to the executives who passed by without a glance, to the assistants who occasionally asked me to fetch coffee — I was just another face in the sea of corporate drones. Efficient. Quiet. Forgettable. Perfect.I adjusted my glasses and continued typing up the latest expense report, my fingers moving across the keyboard with practiced precision. The scree

Amelia’s POVI couldn’t sleep all night.The footage from the USB drive kept replaying in my head like a broken record I couldn’t turn off. The grainy CCTV image of the ten-year-old boy — Daniel, not yet Damian — standing on that balcony. The way he held the baby so casually, almost curiously, before dropping it over the edge without hesitation. The smile he gave the camera afterward. Cold. Knowing. Empty. Every time I closed my eyes, it was there again, the small body disappearing from view, the boy’s face turning toward the lens with that chilling curve of his lips. I tossed and turned in the sheets, the digital clock on my nightstand glowing 2:17 AM, then 3:42 AM, then 4:58 AM. Asher slept beside me, his breathing steady and deep, one arm draped loosely over my waist. I didn’t want to wake him. He had enough on his plate with the attack on his parents, the investigation, and everything else we were carrying. So I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the weight of what we

Amelia's POV The car ride to the gala was thick with unspoken tension. I sat in the passenger seat, my emerald gown pooled around my legs like liquid silk, the fabric suddenly feeling too heavy, too constricting. Asher’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, his jaw set in that familiar line that told me he was still angry. The city lights streaked past the windows, casting shifting patterns across his face, but neither of us had spoken much since leaving the apartment. The argument from earlier — my decision to attend without telling him, my insistence on facing this night head-on — still lingered between us like smoke after a fire.I reached over and rested my hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle tense beneath my palm. “I’m sorry,” I said softly, the words feeling inadequate but necessary. “I should have told you about the gala sooner. I didn’t want to fight again, and I thought… I thought I could handle it. But I should have trusted you enough to be ho

Amelia’s POVI stood in the doorway of my apartment, the cool night air from the hallway brushing against my skin, staring at Killian De Fuentes with a mixture of confusion and wariness. The hallway light cast soft shadows across his handsome face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the warm brown of his eyes. He looked slightly out of place in the casual setting of my building — still dressed in the elegant suit from the gala, though his tie was loosened now, and his dark hair had a touch of dishevelment that made him seem more approachable than he had at the event. My mind raced with questions. Why was he here? How did he know where I lived? And what did he want after the awkward encounter at the gala?“Killian,” I said slowly, keeping my voice steady but guarded. “What are you doing here? How did you find my address?”He held up a small white business card, turning it over in his fingers before extending it toward me. “This fell from Asher’s pocket when he left the gala ear

Amelia’s POVI stood in the doorway of the small conference room, the polished wooden table and leather chairs suddenly feeling too formal, too confining. Killian De Fuentes sat at the head of the table, looking every bit the polished businessman in his tailored suit, his dark hair neatly styled, and those warm brown eyes lifting to meet mine with that same genuine-seeming smile from the night before. The shock hit me like a cold wave, freezing me in place for a long second. My hand remained on the door handle, knuckles whitening as I processed his presence. He was one of the new partners for Damian’s approved overseas branch. Of course he was. My father had orchestrated this. The realization settled in my stomach like lead.“Killian,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The click of the latch sounded louder than it should have in the quiet room. “What are you doing here? Did you plan all of this? The introduction at the gala, showi