All Chapters of THE CONTRACT WIFE OF THE DEMON WOLF: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

LENAThe steps up to the stage felt taller than they should have, the kind of climb that has nothing to do with height and everything to do with what waits at the top. My hands were tense at my sides, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of my dress, but I climbed anyway. With every step I reminded myself I hadn't been handed this. I'd earned it one late night, one hard call, one impossible spreadsheet at a time, one humiliation swallowed and turned into fuel instead of tears.The room silenced as I reached the microphone, dozens of faces turning toward me at once, curious and cautious in equal measure. Somewhere near the side of the stage, I found Aaron in the crowd. He wasn't clapping or beaming the way some of the sponsors were, wasn't performing the proud husband for anyone watching. He just watched me, steady and quiet, something unmistakable sitting plainly on his face, like he didn't need the room to witness his pride for it to be real. Somehow that steadied me more th

ZAINAaron Krane's office wasn't what I expected. No trophies lined up to impress visitors, no oversized portrait of himself behind the desk, nothing that screamed money the way I thought it would. Just clean lines, dark wood, and a man sitting behind the desk who looked like he'd been expecting me before I even called for the meeting.I walked in ready for a fight. I'd rehearsed it the whole drive over, every line sharpened, every insult aimed at cracking whatever calm he wore like armor. I wanted to see him rattled, the way rich men get rattled when someone finally says out loud what everyone else is too scared to."Sit," Aaron said, not even looking up from whatever he was reading.I didn't sit. "This isn't a social visit.""I didn't assume it was." He finally set his papers down and looked at me, unbothered, like I was a mildly interesting interruption to his morning rather than a threat standing in his doorway.That unsettled me more than I wanted to admit."Let's cut through it

LENAI spent the morning on the phone, cycling through excuse after excuse that never quite lined up with the men giving them."Family circumstances," the first player said, his voice flat, rehearsed, like he was reading from a card someone had handed him minutes before the call. "Nothing personal. Just need to be closer to home.""You told reporters two days ago you'd never played for an organization that respected you this much," I said carefully, watching for any crack in his tone.There was a pause that was too long. "Things change fast in this business, Mrs. Krane."The second call went nearly the same way, different words, same hollow rhythm underneath them. Neither man could quite meet the moment with anything real, both retreating into vague language the second I pushed for specifics.I hung up after the second call and sat there staring at my notes, unable to shake the feeling that something didn't add up. Two players, both thriving under the new structure, both publicly prai

AARONThe office was quiet except for the hum of the desk lamp and the soft click of keys under my hands. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. I preferred it that way. Numbers spoke more honestly when nobody was around to interrupt them with theories.I pulled up every transaction Wildcat had processed in the last six weeks, cross-referencing them against the exact dates the two players filed their transfer requests. It took time, the kind of tedious, unglamorous work most people paid someone else to do. But I'd learned a long time ago that the truth rarely announced itself. It hid in patterns, in timing, in the small inconsistencies people assumed nobody would bother chasing down.I found the first thread just past midnight. A private account, unconnected to Wildcat on the surface, sending payments to two sports agents, the same agents representing our departing players. The timing was too precise to be coincidence. Each payment landed within days of the corresponding player sudd

LENAMy phone wouldn't stop buzzing.I woke up to it vibrating against the nightstand, over and over, until I finally reached for it half asleep, expecting some early morning mix-up from the club. Instead I found seventeen missed calls stacked on the screen, most of them from numbers I didn't recognize, a few from people at Wildcat who never call this early unless something's wrong.Then I saw the headline someone had texted me, no message attached, just a link.Former Hockey Wife Uses New Husband's Money to Control Ex-Husband's Career.My stomach dropped before I even finished reading it properly. I sat up fast, heart already pounding, and opened the article with shaking hands.It was worse than the headline. So much worse.Whoever wrote this didn't just guess at things. They knew things. Private arguments Zain and I had, word for word almost, things I never repeated to anyone outside that apartment. The exact details of Raina's funeral, down to what I was wearing, down to the mome