The Contract Wife: Thorne's Redemption

inside m

the truth I had been forced to swallow, the truth Mark had tried to bury under a mountain of lies and medical

ef and relief that it buckled my knees. I would have collapsed onto the floor if Julian

The scent of him-that clean, expensive scent of wool and something uniquely mas

ftly, guiding me back

he room's power dynamic. He was no longer interrogating me from behind his fortress of a desk. He was closer, waiting. His

told him e

the little signs I had ignored. I told him about Amelia, my supposed friend. I told him about the day I found out I was pregnant, the single happ

e feeling of being utterly trapped. My voice cracked and broke, and tears streamed down my face, but I didn't

st listened. His gaze never wavered, and I had the unnerving feeling that he was absorbing every word, every tear, every tremor in my voice, and filin

hollowed out, the only sound was my own ragged breathi

ched a muscle tick in his jaw, the

laced with panic. *He thinks he's made a mistake

o passion in his voice, only the cold, hard certainty of a promise. "My team is already dismantling his company's assets. By tomorrow, the Sterling Gro

ed of his retribution was terrifying. He wielded his

ast window, looking down at the city below. The gr

k still to me. "That was the first part of

to your old life. You cannot stay in

en. I hadn't had a home since Mark

f sensing my confusion. "It is sec

and strangely comforting. I was too drained to argue, too

Martin, drove us in a sleek black car with tinted windows that made the rainy city look like a watercolor painting. The seats were soft l

. I watched the rain trace patterns on the window, my reflection a pale, ghostly image superimposed over the city

sidential tower. The elevator opened directly into the apar

re, there was a subtle warmth. A thick, cream-colored rug softened the marble floor. A fireplace, currently unlit, was built into a wall of dark, polished stone. The entire far wall was glass, of

d out, his voice echoing s

kind, crinkling eyes and grey hair tied in a loose bun. She wore a sim

and her smile softened with sympathy. She took in my scrubs, my tear-stained fac

ying here. Please show her to the guest suite and find her something to

so strange, so clinica

nodded and turned to me. "Of course. Co

d apartment. It had its own balcony, a king-sized bed with a mountain of soft whi

ed with new, unworn clothes in a variety of sizes. Simple things-cashmere sweaters, silk pajamas, soft cotton trousers.

"You look like you've been through hell and back, child. You're safe

ng the door sof

d at myself in the mirror. A stranger stared back at me. Her face was pale and gaunt, her eyes wide and haunted, framed by hair t

ower, the water pressure a powerful, hot cascade. I stood under the spray for a long time, scrubbing my skin until

sibly soft towel that I finally allowed myself t

o

ge, married to a man of ice and steel. But for the first time in a very long time, I was safe. And i