บททั้งหมดของ My Ex Fiancé wants be back, but my contract husband owns me: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

Amelia’s POVAsher didn’t leave my side for the rest of the day. After the chaos in my office — the confrontation with Killian, the security guards dragging him away, the blood on Asher’s knuckles — he stayed close, his presence a steady anchor in the middle of the storm. He sat in the corner of my office while I tried to work, his laptop open on his knees as he handled his own business from a distance. Every so often, he would glance up at me, his blue eyes soft with concern, his hand reaching out to squeeze mine when the silence grew too heavy. I appreciated it more than I could say. The weight of the day — the gala, the argument, the kiss from Killian, the revelations about Damian — felt a little lighter with him there.My father marched into my office without knocking, his rigid posture as impeccable as ever, his cold grey-blue eyes scanning the room like he owned it. Asher stood up immediately, positioning himself between us, but I placed a hand on his arm, signaling that I could

Amelia's POVThe night stretched on endlessly, the weight of the day refusing to let me rest. I lay in Asher’s arms, my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, but sleep evaded me. The footage from the orphanage kept replaying in my mind — the grainy image of the ten-year-old boy dropping the baby from the balcony, the cold smile he gave the camera afterward. 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, the sheets tangling around my legs, the digital clock on the 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

Asher's POV The call from Jordan came just as I was finishing my coffee in Amelia's office, the morning light streaming through the windows of the building. My phone buzzed on the counter, his name flashing on the screen. I answered quickly. “Jordan. What’s going on?”His voice was urgent but professional, the way it always was when things were escalating. “Sir, things are escalating with the Killian situation. The legal team needs you in the office immediately. There are multiple cases filed against you, and the PR team is already fielding calls from the media. You need to be here.”I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair. The events of the previous night — the gala, the argument with Amelia, the confrontation with Killian — were still fresh in my mind. I glanced at Amelia, who was sitting at her desk with her own cup of coffee, her grey-green eyes watching me with quiet concern. “I’ll be there soon,” I told Jordan. “Give me twenty minutes.”I hung up and turned to Amelia,

Amelia’s POVThe idea of announcing our engagement publicly felt right in that moment, a quiet rebellion against the chaos trying to pull us apart. I liked it. The thought of claiming our relationship openly, of showing the world that Asher and I were solid despite the scandals and the rumors, brought a small sense of control back into my hands. For weeks everything had felt reactive — statements, damage control, dodging questions. This would be different. This would be us choosing the narrative. I turned to him in the dim light of the living room, my fingers tracing the edge of his jaw as I smiled softly. The lamp beside us cast a warm glow across his face, catching the faint stubble he hadn’t shaved off yet. He looked tired, but he looked like _mine_.“I like the idea,” I said, my voice low and thoughtful. “Announcing it soon. Making it official. It feels like the right move — not just for the company, but for us. To show everyone we’re not hiding. We’re choosing each other.”Sayin

Amelia's POVThe gun pressed cold and hard against my temple, the metal biting into my skin. Killian’s breath was hot and ragged against my ear, his grip on my arm bruising as he held me in place. I could feel his pulse racing through his fingers. The world seemed to slow down, every sound amplified — the distant hum of the mansion’s air conditioning, the faint creak of the floorboards under our feet, the sharp intake of Darcy’s breath beside me. My heart hammered in my chest, a wild, erratic rhythm that made it hard to think. I could smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with sweat, the metallic tang of fear in the air. This wasn’t the polished businessman I had met at the gala. This was a man unraveling, his carefully constructed facade cracking right in front of me. And I was the one he was taking it out on.“Stay back!” Killian yelled, his voice raw and unhinged, echoing through the grand foyer of his mansion. The sound bounced off the marble and the high ceilings. The securi