Contract Wife, Real Love

Contract Wife, Real Love

Mu Xiaoou

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The video was only fifteen seconds long: a male burlesque dancer, all glitter and bravado, tearing off his pants. My finger slipped, and the screen flashed: Video sent to Liam. Panic seized me, cold and immediate. Liam, my workaholic, rarely-home, contract husband, recipient of my perfectly-crafted façade. I fumbled for my phone, desperately typing a lie: "Oh my god, Liam, you will not believe where Ashley dragged me tonight. I am so disgusted." His reply came instantly: "Okay." Just "Okay." No questions, no suspicion. He bought it. My easy escape was secure. But then, across the pulsing, chaotic nightclub, I saw him. Liam. He lifted his glass, his eyes dark and unwavering, a silent warning cutting through the noise. My perfect, distant husband, who was supposed to be a continent away, was here, watching me. He knew. The easy dance I had perfected–the detached, separate lives–was crumbling. The comfortable silence of our contract was shattered. "Having fun?" he drawled, a glint in his eyes I' d never seen before, cutting through my desperate lie. "I see your friend finally convinced you to enjoy the \'decadent\' lifestyle." He knew. He had known all along, and for some reason, he had played along. Why? I watched him approach, towering over everyone, and for the first time, I felt a knot of fear and something else entirely-a thrill-because this wasn't part of the contract. This was real. As I clung to his arm, playing the doting wife for his colleagues, every interaction felt charged with a new, unsettling current. This wasn't the escape I' d planned; it was something far more complicated. The man I married for freedom was suddenly making me feel trapped, yet strangely, incredibly seen. Who was Liam Patterson, really? And why did his silent scrutiny feel more intimate than any embrace?

Contract Wife, Real Love Introduction

The video was only fifteen seconds long: a male burlesque dancer, all glitter and bravado, tearing off his pants.

My finger slipped, and the screen flashed: Video sent to Liam.

Panic seized me, cold and immediate. Liam, my workaholic, rarely-home, contract husband, recipient of my perfectly-crafted façade.

I fumbled for my phone, desperately typing a lie: "Oh my god, Liam, you will not believe where Ashley dragged me tonight. I am so disgusted."

His reply came instantly: "Okay." Just "Okay." No questions, no suspicion. He bought it. My easy escape was secure.

But then, across the pulsing, chaotic nightclub, I saw him. Liam. He lifted his glass, his eyes dark and unwavering, a silent warning cutting through the noise.

My perfect, distant husband, who was supposed to be a continent away, was here, watching me. He knew.

The easy dance I had perfected–the detached, separate lives–was crumbling. The comfortable silence of our contract was shattered.

"Having fun?" he drawled, a glint in his eyes I' d never seen before, cutting through my desperate lie. "I see your friend finally convinced you to enjoy the \'decadent\' lifestyle."

He knew. He had known all along, and for some reason, he had played along. Why?

I watched him approach, towering over everyone, and for the first time, I felt a knot of fear and something else entirely-a thrill-because this wasn't part of the contract. This was real.

As I clung to his arm, playing the doting wife for his colleagues, every interaction felt charged with a new, unsettling current. This wasn't the escape I' d planned; it was something far more complicated.

The man I married for freedom was suddenly making me feel trapped, yet strangely, incredibly seen. Who was Liam Patterson, really? And why did his silent scrutiny feel more intimate than any embrace?

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I was drowning in the pool, chlorine burning my lungs, but my fated mate, Jax, swam right past me. He scooped up Catalina, the swim team captain who was faking a cramp, and carried her to safety like she was made of glass. When I dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated, Jax didn't offer a hand. Instead, he glared at me with cold hazel eyes. "Stop acting like a victim, Eliana," he spat in front of the whole pack. "You're just jealous." He was the Alpha Heir, and I was the unshifted failure. He broke our bond piece by piece, culminating at the sacred Moon Tree where he slashed through our carved initials to replace them with hers. But the final blow wasn't emotional; it was lethal. Catalina threw my car keys into a pond laced with Wolfsbane. As the poison paralyzed my limbs and I sank into the dark water, unable to breathe, I saw Jax standing on the bank. "Stop playing games!" he shouted at the ripples. He turned his back and walked away, leaving me to die. I survived, but the girl who loved him didn't. I finally accepted the rejection he never had the guts to speak. Jax thought I would crawl back in a week. He thought I was nothing without the pack's protection. He was wrong. I moved to New York and walked into a dance studio, right into the arms of a True Alpha named Daryl. And when I finally shifted, I wasn't a weak Omega. I was a White Wolf. By the time Jax realized what he had thrown away, I was already a Queen.

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Contract Wife, Real Love Contract Wife, Real Love Mu Xiaoou Romance
“The video was only fifteen seconds long: a male burlesque dancer, all glitter and bravado, tearing off his pants. My finger slipped, and the screen flashed: Video sent to Liam. Panic seized me, cold and immediate. Liam, my workaholic, rarely-home, contract husband, recipient of my perfectly-crafted façade. I fumbled for my phone, desperately typing a lie: "Oh my god, Liam, you will not believe where Ashley dragged me tonight. I am so disgusted." His reply came instantly: "Okay." Just "Okay." No questions, no suspicion. He bought it. My easy escape was secure. But then, across the pulsing, chaotic nightclub, I saw him. Liam. He lifted his glass, his eyes dark and unwavering, a silent warning cutting through the noise. My perfect, distant husband, who was supposed to be a continent away, was here, watching me. He knew. The easy dance I had perfected–the detached, separate lives–was crumbling. The comfortable silence of our contract was shattered. "Having fun?" he drawled, a glint in his eyes I' d never seen before, cutting through my desperate lie. "I see your friend finally convinced you to enjoy the \'decadent\' lifestyle." He knew. He had known all along, and for some reason, he had played along. Why? I watched him approach, towering over everyone, and for the first time, I felt a knot of fear and something else entirely-a thrill-because this wasn't part of the contract. This was real. As I clung to his arm, playing the doting wife for his colleagues, every interaction felt charged with a new, unsettling current. This wasn't the escape I' d planned; it was something far more complicated. The man I married for freedom was suddenly making me feel trapped, yet strangely, incredibly seen. Who was Liam Patterson, really? And why did his silent scrutiny feel more intimate than any embrace?”
1

Introduction

04/07/2025

2

Chapter 1

04/07/2025

3

Chapter 2

04/07/2025

4

Chapter 3

04/07/2025

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Chapter 4

04/07/2025

6

Chapter 5

04/07/2025

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Chapter 6

04/07/2025

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Chapter 7

04/07/2025

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Chapter 8

04/07/2025

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Chapter 9

04/07/2025

11

Chapter 10

04/07/2025

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Chapter 11

04/07/2025

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Chapter 12

04/07/2025

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Chapter 13

04/07/2025

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Chapter 14

04/07/2025

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Chapter 15

04/07/2025

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Chapter 16

04/07/2025

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Chapter 17

04/07/2025

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Chapter 18

04/07/2025