Betrayed Bride: The CEO's Contract Marriage

out curtains, hitting Chloe directly in the eyes. She gasped, her body jerkin

e moment she shifted her weight, a harsh reminder of the previous night's injury. She looked around the stark, unfamiliar

oor, a dull ache pulsed through the joint, and she winced. On the glass nightstand sat a neat stack of clothing: a black tailored blazer, a crisp white silk cam

two other adjacent sizes were neatly folded, a thoughtful backup in case of any discrepancy. She felt a flicker of gratitude for the staff's thoroughness, pushing asid

to the soaking wet dress she'd worn the night before. She grabbed the edge of the vanity for support and limped into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and stared at her reflection. Her eyes were slightly red, b

e bedroom door, stepping out into the hallway with a not

heck on her ankle. He stopped when he saw her, his eyes raking over her expe

at to playing house, even with that gimpy ankle. You work fast. But don't think you

er right ankle throbbing. She didn't shrink back. She squared her shoulders an

sharp as glass, a faint wince escaping her as her ankle twinged. "You read a tabloid headline and think you know the truth. You are a do

ened his mouth to fire back, but a cold voi

t o

coffee in one hand. His eyes flicked briefly to Chloe's limp before fixing on Gus, radiating a terr

le, I w

cibel. He adjusted his left cufflink, a slow, deliberate gesture that

, and practically sprinted for the elevator

sfaction flashed in his dark eyes- satisfaction that she looked like she belonged here, even if neither of them would admit it, and that she was fighting through the

she didn't resist. She limped toward the chair, gripping the edge of the table for su

and paired with a side of fresh, glistening berries, next to a steaming cup of rich black coffee- just how she liked it. It was a small, intentional detail, a stark contrast to the cold rain and terror of the previous night. She s

, trying to read the impassive mask of his f

icked over the top of the paper, registering her confusion- and the faint tension in her jaw from the pain- before h

and, careful not to jostle her ankle, and started eating. The food tasted perfect- warm, sweet, a

ed to sip her coffee, the faint wince she tried to hide when her ankle shifted, and the way she suppressed the pain to sit straight. He was suppressing the dark

ght ankle. She pulled an iPad from the center of the table- one she hadn't noticed earlier, placed there intentionally for her

mmediately

ing her as a unstable runaway. They claimed Chloe had suffered a mental breakdown due to her "reckless a

s of people were tearing her apart- calling her a slut, a disgrace to Manhattan, a spoiled brat who got what she deserv

the background as anger surged. Her breathing grew shallow, but she didn't cry. The tears were burned away by a sudden, explosive s

re trying to bury her alive, to erase her, and she wasn't going to

d the way she stood rigid, pushing through the pain to hold her ground. It was the same fire he'd se

the internet?" Carlisle asked, his tone flat, o

f, her ankle screaming in protest as she stood taller. She looked at him, her eyes bur

ok like a cover-up. This is my war. I am going to

iration shot through his chest. She wasn't a victim, cowering and begging for help- she was a pr

ted to her left foot, her posture rigid despi

. "I want a loan. I will sign a contract agreeing to the highest commercial

eeting her eyes, his fingers slowly beginning to tap against the oak table, a faint, a