All Chapters of Love Under Contract : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Elena’s P.O.V.The morning sun filtered through the high stained-glass windows of the Vance estate, casting fractured beams of ruby and gold across the polished mahogany floor of the grand dining hall.On the surface, everything appeared picture-perfect.The silver tea service was laid out, the scent of freshly brewed espresso and warm pastries filled the air, and soft orchestral music played quietly from hidden speakers. But beneath the opulent quiet, the atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.I sat at the head of the long table, wearing a crisp ivory silk blazer and matching trousers, my dark hair pulled back into a sleek, professional ponytail. Across from me sat Daphne.She wore an oversized cashmere sweater in soft blush pink, her dark hair falling in gentle, unstyled waves around her face. She held a porcelain cup with two trembling hands, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth as if she were terrified to make eye contact with anyone in the room.Beside me, Damian sat in his usual place.

Elena’s P.O.V.The subterranean command center was cold, quiet, and illuminated only by the pale blue glare of tactical monitors.Damian stood before the primary glass display, his dark suit jacket discarded, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A glass of untouched bourbon sat beside him as he reviewed satellite telemetry over the North American coastline.The heavy hydraulic doors hissed open behind him.Damian didn't turn around immediately. "If that's a medical update on your sister, Marcus, leave it on the desk.""It isn't Marcus," I said softly, stepping into the cool air of the war room.Damian went still. He turned slowly, his stormy grey eyes fixing on me. His expression was a stone-cold mask of emotional withdrawal—the protective armor he wore whenever he felt betrayed."Elena," he murmured, his voice flat. "You should be resting."I walked straight across the polished floor, stopping inches from his broad frame. I didn't say a word. I reached up, my fingers brushing again

Elena’s P.O.V.The storm that had battered the Chicago coast for days finally broke, leaving behind a crisp, washed-azure morning sky. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Vance estate's private breakfast parlor, turning the polished mahogany floor into a sea of amber light.For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, the heavy air of paranoia had lifted.I sat at the long dining table, wearing a soft cream cashmere sweater that draped loosely over my left shoulder to avoid irritating the fresh white surgical bandage beneath. Across from me sat Daphne.She looked completely different in the light of day. Dressed in one of my oversized lilac knits, her dark hair washed and falling in soft waves around her face, the wild, desperate edge in her eyes was entirely gone. She was nursing a cup of chamomile tea, her fingers tracing the rim of the porcelain mug as if still convincing herself that the silk, the warmth, and the safety were real.Sitting at the head of

Elena’s P.O.V.The quiet before the storm was always cold, but the quiet that followed an enemy's mobilization tasted like lead.It had been thirty-six hours since the breach at Iron Ridge. Thirty-six hours of high-alert silence. Inside the fortress of the Vance estate, the air felt tight, charged with an invisible static that kept every guard's hand resting on the holstered grip of their firearm.I stood in the glass-walled strategy room overlooking the estate’s inner courtyard, a cup of dark espresso growing cold in my hand. Beside me, Daphne sat behind a array of triple-monitor tactical rigs, her fingers flying across a customized Mechanical keyboard with a rhythmic, sharp clatter. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her eyes so like my own, yet hardened by years of Victoria’s twisted conditioning were narrowed at glowing streams of green and red code."They aren't going after the physical perimeter," Daphne said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion, operating

Elena’s P.O.V.The sound was not just a gunshot. It was a physical rupture in the universe a deafening, heavy boom that shattered the atrium’s reinforced glass, vibrating through the marble under my feet and rattling the very marrow in my bones.Time slowed down to a agonizing crawl.Through the pulsing red haze of the emergency strobe lights, I saw Damian lunging backward, his massive frame cutting through the air to tackle my father. He moved with supernatural speed, a blur of dark linen and lethal instinct.He was fast. He was almost fast enough.But a high-caliber sniper round travels faster than human reflexes.The bullet struck before Arthur’s body could clear the trajectory. The impact was sickening—a dull, wet thud that cut through the screams of the crowd. Arthur’s body jerked violently backward in mid-air, the kinetic force tearing through his tailored navy jacket, lifting him off his feet before he slammed onto the hard marble steps of the podium."NO!"The scream tore from