Contract Wife's Hidden Identity Revealed
For years, I was known as Killian Emerson’s only weakness, the anchor for the ruthless crime boss while he built an empire. I thought it was for us, a life he was building to protect me.
But then I found out the truth. My high school bully, Dallas, was his mistress. He paraded her around at galas, bought her penthouses, and funded her multi-million-dollar cat sanctuary.
He bought her a sanctuary for stray cats while my brother was dying. I begged him for money for a life-saving treatment, but he told me he was busy and hung up. My brother died alone. Killian didn’t even come to the funeral.
When he finally called, he sounded bored. "Sorry to hear about your brother," he said casually, while I could hear Dallas in the background asking him to go ring shopping.
In that moment, the last bit of love I had for him simply died. He had forgotten every promise, even the one he made to ruin Dallas for carving "Worthless" into my wrist years ago.
Now, he protects her. He even let her crush the last memento my brother ever made for me, then broke my wrist when I lunged at her. After a car crash he caused, he left me bleeding in the wreckage to save Dallas, without a single look back.
But the biggest secret was yet to come. Lying in a hospital bed, a call from the county clerk revealed the truth. Killian and I were never legally married. The entire foundation of my life was a lie designed to control me.
And now, I'm taking back everything he stole from me. Starting with his empire.
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Chapter 3
Elena POV:
My foot caught on a loose strip of metal on the floor. The sharp clang echoed in the small apartment, and they sprang apart.
Killian turned, his eyes locking on me in the doorway. For a split second, I saw a flicker of something—concern, maybe even guilt—before it was swallowed by pure annoyance.
“Elena? What the hell are you doing here?”
Dallas stepped out from behind him, a sickly sweet smile stretched across her face. Her voice was pure performance.
“Oh, Elena. I am so, so sorry for… you know. High school. We were just kids.”
“Don't,” I bit out, the single word cutting through her act like a shard of glass.
Her face crumpled instantly. She turned and melted against Killian’s chest, her shoulders shaking with theatrical sobs.
“I was just trying to be nice.”
Killian’s arms wrapped around her protectively, his glare hardening as it landed on me.
“What is your problem? Just leave it alone.”
My mind flashed back to the high school locker room. Dallas and her friends had held me down, the cold, sharp point of a compass digging into the soft skin of my wrist as she had carved the word “Worthless” into my flesh. The scar was still there, a pale, jagged line I saw every single day.
I remembered Killian finding me crying in the library afterward. He had taken my hand, his thumb tracing the angry red mark, and had promised me, his voice a low growl, “One day, I'll ruin her for you, Elena. I swear it.”
Another beautiful, empty lie.
“Get in the car,” Killian commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Dallas chimed in, wiping away a non-existent tear. “Yes, let's all go together. We can be friends.”
She reached for my arm, her perfectly manicured nails sinking deliberately into the sensitive skin around my old scar.
Pain, sharp and familiar, shot up my arm. I flinched back on instinct, yanking away from her touch.
My recoil sent her stumbling backward. She went down with a dramatic gasp, collapsing onto the floor in a heap, and for all the world, it looked as if I had shoved her.