Page 21 of The Billionaire’s Contract Bride

He stood on the other side of the glass—jacket restored, tie pristine, the faint red mark from her slap barely visible along his cheekbone. He looked as cold and immaculate as he had in the elevator, entirely untouched by the night that had dismantled her life.

Aria followed him into the empty corridor and waited for the heavy doors to swing shut.

“I’m not leaving the hospital.”

“Your mother is unconscious.”

“Which means she could wake up alone.”

“A dedicated private nurse will remain at her bedside.”

“I’m her daughter,” Aria said coldly, knowing that it would upset her if her mother woke up with a nurse at her bedside instead of Aria.

“You are also exhausted, soaked, injured, and scheduled to stand before a judge in less than eight hours.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours, in part,” he replied calmly. “You spent nearly two hours negotiating punctuation marks.”

“The punctuation was attached to a contract that surrenders my entire life.”

Damien’s jaw tightened slightly, but he showed no other reaction.

“You will receive an immediate alert if her condition fluctuates,” he said. “Lucien has assigned two guards to the floor. No one enters without direct authorization from her surgical team, you, or me.”

“Why you?”

“Because while you are asleep, someone must remain capable of making decisions.”

Aria stepped closer, her eyes flashing. “Do not make decisions for my mother.”

“Then stay conscious enough to make them yourself.” He turned and began walking away.

Aria wanted to remain right where she was simply to prove he couldn’t command her. But her body betrayed her—a sudden wave of dizziness made the hall tilt.

Lucien appeared at her side before her knees could buckle. He didn’t grab her; he merely offered his forearm for support.

“The sedan is waiting downstairs, Ms. Vale,” he said softly.

Aria looked through the glass at her mother one last time. Then she followed the men who had already begun rearranging her life.

The city was silent as the sedan drove north.

Damien sat beside her, checking messages on his phone. Aria leaned her head against the cool window, watching streetlights sweep across the dark interior, trying to understand how she had traveled from an eviction notice to a marriage contract in less than twelve hours.

She noticed her plastic bags were missing from the trunk area. “Where are my things?”

“At my residence.”

“They belong to me.”

“I am aware.”

“Then why did your employee take them without telling me where?”

Damien didn’t look up from his screen. “You were carrying your life in two garbage bags.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to seize them.”