Todos los capítulos de The Rival’s Contract Wife: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

Hearing Valerie call her "Mother," Genevieve’s sharp eyes softened even more, giving a firm nod. Aunt Catherine beamed across the table, whispering excitedly to Valerie, "I told you! Oh, we are going to be absolute best friends!" The rest of the dinner passed smoothly, with Aunt Catherine chattering happily about upcoming charity galas and asking Valerie all about her favorite colors, completely drowning out Victoria’s bitter glares. When the plates were cleared, Genevieve stood up and signaled to Valerie. "Follow me, Valerie," Genevieve said. Killian, Philip, Victoria, Uncle Arthur, Aunt Catherine, and Cousin Harrison followed behind as Genevieve led them into the massive private study. The servants shut the double wooden doors behind them. Genevieve walked straight over to a tall wooden cabinet in the corner. She pulled a tiny silver key from her pocket, unlocked a heavy drawer, and pulled out a dark red velvet box wrapped in gold string. She walked back across the room

The morning sun filtered through the tinted windows of the sleek Maybach as it glided through the city streets. Valerie sat quietly in the soft leather back seat, her mind wandering back to how she had spent the last two years struggling for scraps of recognition back when she was with Damian. She had poured her soul into his family’s company, staying up until dawn in dark, freezing workrooms just to get a single approving nod that never came. Now, she hadn't even spent up to a week with Killian, and everything she had ever dreamed of was being handed to her on a golden platter. She couldn’t bring herself to fully process it. She rested her head against the headrest, her eyes lingering on the dark velvet box resting on her lap. She thought of the ancestral brooch Eleanor had given her at dinner and let out a soft sigh. Killian, sitting beside her with his laptop open, noticed the subtle slump of her shoulders. He closed the device, setting it aside, and turned his dark gaze tow

That makes complete sense! Having Arthur and Eleanor Vance genuinely value Valerie’s immense talent adds so much rich family tension. It highlights how utterly incompetent Damian is, while making his wounded ego burn even hotter. Here is the revised, locked-in version of Chapter 24 reflecting their respect for Valerie and deepening Damian's toxic, ego-driven rage: Chapter 24: Damian’s Explosive Ego After the call ended, Damian gritted his teeth as he stared at the dark screen of his phone before tossing it onto the glass table. Petra sat up in a panic. "What are we going to do, Damian? We can’t produce the jewelry as it is, and we already have huge pre-orders!" Damian exhaled slowly, standing up from his seat and walking toward her. He pulled her into a warm embrace, gently patting her head. "Don't worry. We will find a way out of this—even if it means getting Valerie to come back." Petra smirked against his shoulder, quickly forcing a quiet sob into his chest. "But... we were s

"She said, take your hands off her." A heavy, ice-cold voice boomed across the driveway. Damian froze dead in his tracks. A sudden, instinctual chill ran down his spine, instantly cooling the hot rage in his blood. Dominic Torres stepped out through the grand lobby doors, a heavy velvet gift box in one hand. His usual lighthearted, playful demeanor was entirely gone, replaced by a dark, deadly gaze. Behind him, two massive, suit-clad personal bodyguards stepped smoothly out from the shadows of the entrance, their hands resting inside their tailored jackets. Dominic tossed the velvet box onto a nearby stone pillar and walked forward with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes narrowed onto Damian's hand tightly gripping Valerie's wrist. "I am going to count to three, Vance," Dominic said, his deep voice carrying a razor-sharp, lethal threat that made the quiet evening air freeze over. "If your hands are still on her skin when I hit three, my bodyguards will make sure you never draw

The main showroom lobby of Valkyrie Luxe was vast, silent, and flooded with blinding morning light pouring through three-story glass walls. Sixty master goldsmiths, senior gemologists, and floor managers stood in two stiff lines near the sweeping marble staircase. Their hands were folded tightly behind their backs, their faces pale as they stared at the towering man standing in the middle of the hall. Killian Sterling stood beside the central display case. Without a word, he unbuttoned his dark suit jacket and tossed it onto a velvet chair. He unbuttoned his cuffs, slowly rolling his ivory shirt sleeves up his forearms. Then, with a deliberate, smooth motion, Killian pulled off his left black leather glove and dropped it onto the glass counter. A sharp, collective gasp rippled through the gathered staff at the back of the room. "Is that... is that really Mr. Sterling?" a young gemologist whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. "The Killian Sterling?" "Look at his bare h