All Chapters of Yours By Contract, Claimed By Fate : Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

Julian didn't release Evelyn’s hand under the table. His thumb dug firmly into the soft skin of her palm, a quiet, unyielding anchor beneath the heavy linen."My personal life is not open for debate at this table, Uncle," Julian said, his tone entirely level, though the muscle along his jawline twitched once. "We came to discuss the Q3 performance reports, not to satisfy your curiosity."Harrison laughed softly, a dry, rasping sound that rattled in his throat. He picked up his wine glass again, swirling the deep red liquid around the rim. "Curiosity is the lifeblood of business, nephew. When a man moves as fast as you do, one has to wonder what—or who—is pushing him."Before Julian could answer, the double oak doors at the end of the dining hall swung open with a sharp, heavy thud.The head butler stepped inside, looking visibly flustered as he adjusted his white gloves. "Mr. Vance, sir... excuse the interruption, but another guest has arrived at the front gates."Harrison didn't look

The privacy glass between the front cabin and the rear passenger suite of the Maybach clicked shut, sealing out the hum of rain on the highway. Inside the dark leather interior, the air smelled sharply of antiseptic ointment, fresh blood, and damp wool. Julian sat on the far right side of the leather bench, his suit jacket off and thrown onto the floorboards. His right hand was wrapped tightly in heavy white gauze, a dark red smudge already seeping through the second layer where two jagged glass shards had sliced into his palm. Marcus had offered to take him to the urgent care clinic off Highway 90, but Julian had snapped out a single word through gritted teeth: Home. Evelyn sat three feet away, pressed up against the left passenger door. Her emerald dress was slightly rumpled at the hip, her knees pulled together, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She kept her eyes fixed on the illuminated dashboard clock. 10:42 PM. The silence inside the car was thick, heavy, and suffoc

The heavy fabric shears crunched through the stiff yellow polyester, sending strips of outdated ruffle lining fluttering to the hardwood floor. ​Evelyn didn't hesitate. She sliced straight down the spine, removing the high, suffocating collar completely. Her thumbs were sore from forcing heavy steel needles through thick, double-layered seams, and the skin near her index knuckle was pricked raw from three hours of hand-stitching. ​She sliced away the oil-stained hem, cutting a sharp, architectural slant that stopped three inches above her left knee before sweeping into a short, structured train in the back. ​Using the heavy tailor's chalk, she drafted a deep, plunging V-cut down the back, exposing her shoulder blades entirely. She folded the thick material inward, securing the inner edges with gold safety pins before blind-stitching the borders with dark gold thread. The stiff, awkward fabric that had looked like a drapery disaster now held a rigid, razor-sharp silhouette that hugg

The collective intake of breath across the grand ballroom sounded like a sudden wind sweeping through paper. The auctioneer stood frozen at the podium, his mouth opened wide, his wooden gavel hovering two inches above the sound block. The overhead floodlights reflected off the sweat glistening on his forehead as he stared down at the front VIP table. "Ten... ten million dollars?" the auctioneer choked out into his microphone, his voice cracking slightly on the second word. Beside him, the foundation director nearly dropped his leather ledger. Flashbulbs erupted in a blinding, chaotic wave from the media gallery along the east wall. The shutter clicks sounded like a frantic mechanical swarm as reporters scrambled over velvet ropes to get a clear angle of Julian Vance. Dominic Cross’s smirk vanished entirely. The color drained from his face, leaving his sharp jawline looking carved from grey chalk. His bidding paddle remained suspended in his right hand, suddenly feeling useless and