Page 46 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

“Damien did not do this to me,” Celeste said directly to the lens. “But if I stay in New York, Victor will have me killed to cover his tracks. Damien offered me a way out and a new life. I took it willingly. Do not look for me.”

The video cut to static.

Aria felt her rigid assumptions fracturing. “Why let your family—and the entire world—believe you destroyed her?”

“Fear is an exceptionally useful tool.”

“And today?” Aria asked, leaning forward. “Was that Celeste at the hospital?”

“No.”

“She was wearing Celeste’s pendant.”

“Someone is intentionally using old ghosts to manipulate you,” Damien said darkly. “They want you to believe the past is repeating itself.”

He tapped the control panel, switching the feed to a different camera log.

Footage from Evelyn’s ICU room appeared on screen.

A hooded figure wearing a surgical mask stood beside her mother’s bed at 3:14 AM—hours before the public wedding and the secondary breach. The figure leaned over Evelyn, carefully adjusting the secondary drip line attached to her IV.

Aria’s breath caught in her throat. “That was taken before we even left for the courthouse.”

“Yes.”

“Did they poison her? Did they hurt her?!”

“The preliminary toxicology report is still pending.”

The figure on screen turned toward the door, and for a single crisp frame, a high-level Blackthorne internal security badge was clearly visible pinned to their chest.

Aria looked up at Damien, horror dawning on her face. “That’s one of your own people.”

Damien’s gray eyes went terrifyingly hollow and dark.

“Not for much longer.”

Chapter Eight: His Protection

“Open the door!” Aria shouted, slamming her palm against the heavy mahogany panel.

Damien’s voice came through the thick wood, muffled but entirely unyielding. “When the hospital clears your mother’s bloodwork.”

“You promised this room would be mine!”

“And you are safely inside it.”

“The contract explicitly states you cannot restrict my movement!”

“It permits emergency security protocol during credible threats.”

Aria hated him in that moment—hated him for reading his own legal contract far more carefully than she had.

“How long, Damien?”

“Two hours.”

“If you are not back in two hours, I will break the windows.”