บททั้งหมดของ My Ex Fiancé wants be back, but my contract husband owns me: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Amelia’s POVThe door to Asher’s bedroom closed behind us with a soft click, and for the first time that evening, the world outside felt distant. The argument from the gala, the tension with Killian, the weight of everything we had uncovered about Damian — it all faded as Asher pulled me into his arms. His hands were warm on my waist, sliding up my back as he kissed me slowly, deeply, like he was trying to erase the distance that had grown between us. I melted into him, my fingers threading through his dark hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, tongues brushing, breaths mingling, until the need for air forced us apart for just a moment.“I missed you,” he whispered against my lips, his voice rough with emotion. “Even when we’re fighting, I miss you.”“I missed you too,” I breathed, my hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. I undid them one by one, my fingers trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment. His shirt fell open, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the

Amelia's POVI sat at my desk, the folder Killian had given me open in front of me like a forbidden map to a past I wasn’t sure I wanted to explore. The office was quiet except for the distant hum of the building — the soft whir of the air conditioning, the occasional ring of a phone in the hallway, the faint murmur of conversations from other offices. Late afternoon light slanted through the blinds, casting long golden stripes across the papers. I had closed the door after Killian left, needing a moment to process what I had just seen. My hands trembled slightly as I flipped through the pages again, reading the same lines over and over as if they might change. The documents were meticulous, detailing shell companies, unverified transactions, and a network of underground activities that Damian had been building beneath the legitimate facade of Genesis. It was all there — discreet, carefully layered, almost impossible to trace unless someone knew exactly where to look. The kind of proo

Unknown POV The office always changed after business hours.During the day, it was alive with ringing phones, hurried conversations, clicking keyboards, and polished smiles that disappeared the moment people turned away from one another. Executives strode through the hallways with purpose. Assistants rushed from office to office carrying tablets and folders. Every corner buzzed with ambition.But when evening settled over the city, Genesis became something entirely different.The noise faded. The conversations died.One by one, the lights in neighboring offices went dark until only a handful remained, bathing the floor in pools of cold white light.That was when I liked the building most. Silence revealed things noise concealed. I sat quietly at my small desk near the back of the administrative department, pretending to organize expense reports while watching the reflection in my computer monitor more than the screen itself.No one looked twice at me.No one ever did.I wasn't the ex

Amelia’s POVThe day had stretched on endlessly, each hour bleeding into the next until the office lights felt like they were burning holes behind my eyes. I had spent most of the afternoon and well into the evening buried in reports, contracts, and emergency meetings, trying to keep the company afloat while the shadows of Damian’s schemes loomed larger with every passing minute. The overhead lights in my office had begun to feel too bright, too harsh, casting long shadows across the scattered papers on my desk. My shoulders ached from hunching over documents, and my neck was stiff from staring at the computer screen for hours on end. The faint hum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the otherwise empty floor as the last of the staff trickled out for the night.Darcy had stayed longer than she should have, her neat ponytail slightly askew and her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she brought me yet another stack of files. “Amelia, you need to go home,” she said gentl

Amelia's POVThe car ride to the office was quiet but comfortable, the morning sun casting a soft golden glow through the windows as Asher drove. His hand rested on my thigh, his thumb tracing slow, absent circles against the fabric of my pants — a small, grounding gesture that had become familiar between us. I leaned my head against the seat, watching the city streets pass by in a blur of traffic and pedestrians. The events of the previous night — the argument, the make-up, the weight of the secrets we were both carrying — still lingered in the air between us, but the silence felt more like a shared breath than a barrier. Asher glanced at me occasionally, his blue eyes soft with concern, but he didn’t push for conversation. He knew I needed the quiet to process.When he pulled up in front of the building, I turned to him, my hand lingering on his cheek for a moment. “Thank you for driving me,” I said softly, leaning in to kiss him goodbye. The kiss was gentle at first, a simple press