Bound by Contract and Desire

Chapter 1

**Divorce Agreement**

Evelyn sat on the edge of the bed in the sparse bedroom, a stack of papers spread out in front of her like an ominous fortress. The sheets of print felt more like chains than documents, and she narrowed her eyes at them, her irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

“How could I, a once-prominent practitioner of the Radiant Order, end up in this mess of a marriage?”

The husband? Well, that would be Edward Hawthorne, though she quickly reminded herself that she was acting as the girl known as Evelyn Fairfax. The jarring realization that she'd signed a prenuptial agreement, along with a divorce settlement, had turned her stomach.

Evelyn rubbed her temples, trying to alleviate the stress. It had been a week since she arrived in this strange new world—seven days in a hospital bed grappling with the implications of her unexpected arrival while sifting through the memories of Evelyn Fairfax. At least she was fortunate enough to inherit her predecessor's memories; if not, she’d be stumbling around clueless, likely making a complete fool of herself.

But the more she uncovered, the more flames of rage ignited within her. The moment she'd learned of her predecessor's marriage, confusion wrestled with dread in her mind—was this soul transfer? What would happen if someone caught on to her plight? As she scanned through Evelyn’s memories, the tension within her eased. It turned out the marriage was just as insignificant as she suspected.

Radiant Order had entrusted her as the prized disciple of Elder Le Ming, yet she found herself relegated to the role of a second-rate wife in a high-society family. Evelyn Fairfax, just twenty-three, a mere girl when thrust into matrimony with the head of the esteemed Hawthorne family. She’d drawn envy from everyone around her, as if the universe itself conspired to grant her a fairy tale ending. At least that’s what her life should have resembled—if only the reality hadn’t been so cruelly different.

That very first night, Edward had come home with a few attorneys, bland and cold as a corporation. They sat down in the tasteful parlor, breaking the news that this marriage had a shelf life of one year. When the time was up, they’d part ways, and he promised a generous payout, stating categorically that the business dealings between their families would persist. The terms were exactly what one would expect from a high-stakes transaction, stripping away the warmth of any wedding vows.

Evelyn had been stunned into silence, her heart racing with the weight of both her situation and the fear that her family had crossed Hawthorne—one misstep and she could be left destitute. It didn’t take long before she regained her composure and signed the papers without a word, her demeanor a mask of quiet acceptance, even though she had other plans brewing beneath the surface.

She couldn’t help but recall meeting Edward long ago, when he’d still possessed a flicker of warmth behind those calculating blue eyes. Back then, she’d felt a strong connection, naive as she’d been. She had always believed that if she could just show him love, break down those icy walls, he’d find solace in her kindness. But more than six months had slipped away, and her attempts had only pushed him further into frost.

Sighing, Evelyn placed the divorce agreement back on the table. She had stashed it away carefully because she wanted to see how much longer until she could cut her ties with this charade. Thankful, she calculated—just three months left.

The car accident had been triggered by sheer rage. Earlier that fateful day, she had stormed out. Rumors had some blonde socialite wrapped around Edward’s arm at a club, and in her fury, she hadn’t thought twice before throwing herself behind the wheel. Red light? She hadn’t even registered it as she sped through, colliding with an oncoming truck. Lucky to survive, well, not exactly. The girl she had been was gone, leaving her only as the remnants of a failed cultivator.

Evelyn dismissed the trappings of romance outright. Why chase after love when she could spend that energy honing her skills and desires? She scoffed at the naïveté of Evelyn Fairfax, determined to pave her own path, one free from the shackles of male dependence.

There was, however, one peculiar thing about Edward that stirred her interest; his striking resemblance to her former senior brother. Yet, resemblance was just that—looks were never enough, and the last time she remembered, her brother was very much alive. Any feeling of kinship lingered only in the realm of memory. His existence meant nothing in this brave new world.

So, she resolved to walk these remaining three months as if her husband didn’t even exist. The idea of returning to Fairfax, where everyone was blissfully unaware of her predicament, was not an option. The last thing she wanted was for her parents and siblings to notice any abnormalities in her demeanor; they’d catch on in an instant.

No, Evelyn was ready to carve out a survival plan, one that would allow her to thrive without drawing attention to her struggles. Coming from a privileged background should’ve offered her advantages, yet she realized that the world of high fashion and stunning soirées made her feel like a fish out of water. She lacked enthusiasm for the arts like jewelry design and fashion; the very scene that dazzled others left her feeling more isolated.

Her sisters and brothers had carved out their paths in business with steely determination, but she felt like a proverbial black sheep—a whimsical dreamer lost amid familial expectations. The truth stung: she had been content being a financial leech, riding the coattails of her family’s fortune. Despite her failure to master any instruments of art, she had happily settled into her role as a free spirit with no ambitions.

But when Hawthorne proposed an alliance between the families, suddenly she felt the flicker of hope. Here was a chance at more than complacency—a leap to a different world, albeit with complications she didn’t fully grasp.

Well, at least there was one thing they had in common: music. If only Evelyn Fairfax were still around, maybe they’d have bonded over that.

Evelyn smiled to herself at the irony.

Chapter 2

Stuck for the Holidays

Evelyn Fairfax lay on her bed, feeling restless. The cast on her foot was still too heavy, and meditation was out of the question.

Boredom gnawed at her, and she decided to give it a shot—see if she could still tap into her spiritual training. It was a big deal, something tied to her future.

But after what felt like hours, she still couldn't feel a single ounce of energy around her.

"Seriously?" Evelyn sighed, a wave of despair washing over her. "They can't even spare me a bit of spiritual essence?"

What kind of world was this, where every chance for her to reclaim her power seemed to evaporate? Was her future doomed to be just like everyone else's, a mundane existence? She stared blankly at the ceiling, reminiscing about a life where she'd long since escaped the common struggles of humanity—would she even adapt?

But what did ordinary life really involve?

With great effort, Evelyn turned over, her mind piecing together memories from her past life. She could recognize the language here, though writing still eluded her. There was something comforting about knowing people often turned to their computers for information and would just ask, “Google it,” when they were curious.

Slowly regaining her spirits, she reached for the smartphone resting on her nightstand, unlocking it with her thumbprint.

"Now, that’s impressive."

This little gadget was astounding. Just to think that people in this era could communicate across miles without the need for spells or incantations—distilling thoughts and images to screens with the touch of a finger.

As she explored, curiosity bubbled within her. Maybe this world, devoid of spiritual energy, wasn’t so terrible after all. The things she once relied on for power could also be tackled by technology here.

Perhaps mastering a grand cosmic battle had always been against the natural order. The universe had handed her this strange opportunity—not just as a consolation for her hard work over countless lifetimes, but maybe a blessing in disguise.

Evelyn cracked a small smile at her phone screen, invigorated by the prospect of venturing out into this new world, perhaps for some shopping and fun.

“Ouch!”

She giggled to herself, pulling her leg in, having forgotten about the cast. She bumped it into the foot of the bed.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A voice called from outside.

It was Agnes Armstrong, the kind housekeeper, who must have heard the commotion.

“I’m fine, just my phone hitting me in the face,” Evelyn replied lightly.

“No more late-night phone scrolling, alright? It’s bad for your eyes.” Agnes's tone was warm but firm.

“Sure, I’ll keep that in mind,” Evelyn said, shifting her leg back onto the bed.

Agnes shook her head mildly. For all her warnings, she’d learned that Evelyn would always promise to ease up on her phone time, yet every morning would find her complaining about forgetting to charge it the night before.

But that was alright—Agnes had done her best. If Evelyn wanted to live in her little bubble, well, the Fairfax family had learned not to meddle too deeply in her affairs.

Evelyn sat on her bed, the novelty of her phone still fresh, knowing she should probably unplug. But the original body she inhabited never seemed to take her health seriously.

That wasn’t the kind of person Evelyn intended to be. As the beloved youngest disciple of her old sect, she knew the value of the boundaries set by her elders. She could take their concern to heart, returning their care when it was due.

Though tempted to keep scrolling, she reminded herself there were better uses of her time. Like playing the piano.

Her soul instrument was a guqin, an ancient zither said to have belonged to the first Elder of her sect—an artifact known as "Rang Liang." It was a rare treasure, but by the time it reached her, she was already loyal to her own spirit instrument. So she had opted to carefully store the guqin away, hoping that someday a worthy soul could forge a bond with it.

It had been a millennium since, with no one proving itself worthy of the resonant instrument until Evelyn herself had picked it. How tragic that even now, the thought of her beloved instrument felt distant. She couldn’t even see it, all alone in some hidden storeroom, while she found herself in this unfamiliar place. Was it possible that she'd be kicked out in three months, like some uninvited guest?

No way. When the time came, she wouldn't be the one leaving empty-handed. Before Edward Hawthorne could even glance back her way, she planned to gather her things and vanish—leaving not even a scrap of paper behind.

A sharp pain threaded through her heart at the thought, almost as if Evelyn Fairfax herself disapproved of her decision.

“Ugh, if you're upset, then you’d better go win Edward Hawthorne’s heart faster,” she scolded herself. “Since you're gone, the rest of what you left over is just going to fall to me. It’s not like I want him, so good luck to the next girl!”

Edward might consider himself lucky. He had dashing looks and an aura that reminded her faintly of her own brother, though if he had been someone different, she'd have called him out for his lack of concern.

What kind of husband ignores his wife in the hospital? Not once had he checked in. Business came first in his world, it seemed—infinitely more important than this nominal wife lying in recovery.

How could she stay married to someone like that?

Evelyn’s fury surged again. If it weren’t for his good family name and handsome face, she might have been inclined to stuff him into a burlap sack.

“People get hungry when they're angry—it truly is a physical challenge,” Evelyn mused, the afternoon slipping past her as thoughts of hunger chimed in.

Her stomach reminded her she hadn’t felt hunger in what felt like ages. And now, as if summoned, it roared back, issuing a demand she couldn’t ignore.

With a delicate frown, she pushed herself to swing out of bed, make her way downstairs, and find something to eat.

Agnes, sweet and patient like a grandmother, kindly tolerated Evelyn's occasional spoiled behavior. Though Evelyn would whine about Edward’s neglect, she never sought to mistreat Agnes, often asking for recipes or why her husband didn’t love her back.

As time passed, Agnes had started to lose her enthusiasm for defending Evelyn. She could only urge her to let it go, to take a trip abroad, treating herself to something nice without worrying about her husband’s mood.

In the kind eyes of this elderly woman, it seemed futile to convince Edward to care. He had never noticed women and probably never would. While others offered unsolicited advice, all Agnes wanted was for Evelyn to spend her time wisely—enjoy what little she had.

Evelyn knew Agnes was good people, and so she resolved to learn as many simple home-cooked meals as she could during her time with her. No use being helpless once she moved on.

Finally, dressed and feeling a bit more human, she swung the door open, only to knock directly into a man standing there.

Evelyn found herself grinning, her mind racing with a single thought.

This guy looked way too much like her elder brother.

Chapter 3

Evelyn had half a mind to slam the door right in his face.

“What do you want?” she snapped, eyeing the intruder who had dared to show up unannounced.

Edward Hawthorne stood there, his charmingly handsome face more infuriating than welcoming. She couldn’t help but think of the saying: “A pretty face is a curse.” It certainly was for her at that moment. Stuck here with this man, who only moments before had arrived back in town from abroad. He had the audacity to think he could check in on her, just because his wife, Agnes—a mutual friend of theirs—had suggested he should be more involved in Evelyn's life.

But what had once felt like a kind gesture now only served to deepen the chasm between them. Edward’s face alone was enough to irritate her, but the irritation was only escalated by his apparent lack of concern for the storm brewing in her heart.

Evelyn was starving, and Edward was standing right in her way, rambling nonsense about false news reports he claimed would blow over if she just ignored them. She rolled her eyes inwardly; talking to him felt like banging her head against a wall. Didn’t he know by now that every time the press camped outside his door, she ended up in the line of fire?

“Look,” she said, trying to maintain her composure as she shoved him back slightly with her shoulder, “unless you have something useful to say, I need to get to dinner.”

His expression soured, but Evelyn didn’t care. Her stomach growled louder than her annoyance. And when he murmured something vague about their contract only having three months left, she raised a single eyebrow.

“Good thing it’s only three months. Otherwise, I swear I’d be tempted to tear you limb from limb,” she shot back. Any patience she might have had evaporated.

“Close your mouth unless you have something constructive to say," she continued. "I have absolutely zero interest in your opinion.” With that, she pushed past him, feeling a slight flicker of satisfaction.

Once down the stairs, she leaned against the wall, her resolve fading once more as she contemplated the man she had just stepped away from. His smug demeanor and overbearing attitude were hardly what she wanted to deal with, especially not when she was out of sorts after a long day at home.

“Hey! Evelyn!” Agnes’ bright voice broke her from her thoughts. The housekeeper had already prepped dinner, and the smell of it was heavenly. “Why didn’t you call for me? You’re supposed to rest.”

Evelyn smiled genuinely for a moment, but her expression soured again as she recalled how aggravating Edward had been. “I just want a big bowl of noodles,” she said, trying to recall the warmth of home-cooked meals.

“Absolutely! Give me a moment!” Agnes replied. The older woman beamed a matriarchal warmth that soothed Evelyn’s frayed nerves slightly.

And just like that, Evelyn settled into a chair and couldn’t help but let the thought of food eclipse the annoyance Edward had caused. She could already feel her spirits lifting as she took in the sight of everything Agnes had prepared. It was strange—she hadn’t been in the mood to eat just a few minutes ago, yet now her stomach felt hollow.

Finally, as she dug into her meal, she basked in the joy of flavors that danced on her palate. Not too long after, Edward made his way to the dining room, his presence looming over her like a shadow. She couldn't avoid his gaze either.

“Wow, where are your manners?” he remarked with a disapproving tone, his eyes narrowing as they flicked over her messy dining style. But did she care? Absolutely not.

Evelyn shot him a glower, turning her attention back to her plate as she munched on a ridiculous amount of chicken, determined to ignore him.

As Edward watched her demolish her food like a crazed animal, he felt his patience thin considerably. He didn't want to share this moment with her, not when she was acting less than ladylike. “Evelyn, can you at least act like you’ve had a meal before?”

She blinked at him before scoffing, “If you didn’t want to eat with me, then just say it instead of nitpicking!” That was it. She pulled her chopsticks back, moving to grab her favorite dish.

“Lucky you!” she muttered, irritated.

Edward couldn’t believe he was forced to deal with her tantrums. She was all fire and spit, simmering over a simple dinner. “No one asked for you to plow through the food like that,” he grumbled and stood up. “I’m finished. Enjoy your meal.”

That was Evelyn’s cue to let out a sigh of relief. He was insufferable, and she refused to ponder how a man who looked like that could irritate her so much.

She took her time with dinner, avoiding any eye contact with him afterward. As soon as she heard Edward’s footsteps retreat, she felt a strange mix of triumph and relief.

In a strange way, they were just two stormy clouds hanging in the same sky, clashing yet strangely comforting, but tonight, she needed to be the one to weather the storm alone.

Chapter 4

Evelyn Fairfax lay sprawled on her bed, ruminating on the disaster that would surely come from having crossed paths with Edward Hawthorne. The brother she had so diligently avoided for months had resurfaced with all his cold, calculating charm fully intact, leaving her feeling like she was standing at the edge of a cliff with nothing but a strong wind pushing her back.

She knew her brother well. Aloof on the surface, but just beneath that façade was a heart as twisted as the gnarled branches of an old oak tree. Anyone who dared to cross him learned the hard way that his charm came with a sinister edge. Thank goodness she had been clever enough to keep their encounters brief, limiting their interactions to the occasional practice sword fight while avoiding any deeper involvement.

But Edward Hawthorne? He was another story altogether. He could’ve been a portrait of her brother—same sharp features, same piercing gaze—just one letter off in the name. There it was, a cruel twist of fate: Edward was a doppelgänger of her brother, and she, despite being Evelyn, was burdened with this Fairfax last name.

It felt like they had stepped into another life, a different dimension where fate mocked her at every turn.

Evelyn flipped over, contemplating the familiarity of this world and the faces she was bound to run into. After searching through her memories of Evelyn Fairfax, she found no echo of anyone she recognized. Was it possible that her limited travels had rendered her foreign in this place?

Shaking her head as she remembered the claims of Fairfax family wealth, she realized how ludicrous that notion was. As the youngest daughter, she had been free to roam, to explore the farthest corners of the Earth. How could she have failed to meet anyone recognizable here? Maybe it really was just her and Edward, especially given that her very existence in this world revolved around him—a brother who was about as loyal as a fox in a henhouse.

Frustration bubbled within her. The thought of her pathetic demise flared anger in her veins. If only she could get her hands on Edward and unleash the new sword techniques she had painstakingly learned. Yes, she’d shove a few sharp points right into him for all the grief he caused.

Evelyn cursed Edward under her breath as she recalled their earlier dinner. Perhaps she hadn’t stood up to him quite enough. The resemblance was uncanny, and something deep inside her couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was the reincarnated form of her brother.

The more she thought about it, the more she felt she should have held her ground. Her gut twisted with resentment. She decided to sneak downstairs, hoping Agnes Armstrong had whipped up something tasty for a late-night snack, because her stomach was rebelling fiercely. Just over an hour had passed since dinner, and she was already starving again.

“I never thought I’d see so many delicious things in one place. I wasted so much time before,” she murmured as she carefully padded down the hallway.

Edward, having just wrapped up a lengthy video call, felt his own stomach rumble in agreement as he wandered toward the kitchen. He was used to the chaos of meetings but never expected to find a hobbled figure persevering through the darkness in his house.

Seeing Evelyn, his own headache began to throb anew. Especially after witnessing her attitude earlier at the dinner table. Weirdly, her soft-spoken, grumbling complaints revealed a penchant for food that had gone unnoticed. In their minimal shared meals, she had picked at her plate and talked endlessly about maintaining some elusive figure.

It baffled him. How did someone in a car accident pivot so dramatically in their outlook on life?

Before he knew it, irritation spilled out; he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What are you doing out? Didn’t you just have a meeting?”

That earned him a glare that could boil water. Evelyn’s eyes narrowed on him, full of disdain, as though he were the last person she wanted to see.

“You know, a meeting can end at any time. Just like you can’t seem to manage keeping your distance when it gets too close.” Edward raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to rile her further.

Evelyn spun away, ignoring him. She had no time for his nonsense. The kitchen called to her, and she needed sustenance—fast.

Edward’s thoughts swirled. Evelyn Fairfax was intriguing yet enraging. The moment he had first laid eyes on her, he felt a strange inexplicable connection, and while she wasn't his ideal partner, he had chosen her over a multitude of other glamorous women. Now, as they drifted toward divorce, he questioned all of it—the choice, the partnership, everything.

It should have made him feel free. And yet the minute he was back in her presence, that flicker of connection flared again, leaving him breathless.

“Just... be careful, alright?” he muttered, half-heartedly tossing the words over his shoulder before walking away.

What was meant to be a warning felt like a provocation to her. Did he think his long legs made him untouchable?

“Oh, I hope you trip,” Evelyn seethed internally, wishing he would tumble down the stairs and teach the cocky edifice of his attitude a lesson.

Almost as if the universe was eavesdropping on her thoughts, Edward stumbled on the stairs, barely catching himself on the railing. Evelyn’s pulse quickened at the unexpected turn of fate. Should she be thrilled? Maybe? But she hadn’t thought it would actually play out in front of her, and she felt a rush of mischief battling with her better instincts.

She bit back a grin, leveling her gaze at him. “You doing okay down there? Looks like my slow pace almost caused you to take a spill.”

Edward regarded her with a look that could crack stone, recognition of her jibe sparking annoyance. “Maybe focus on your own footing instead of commenting on mine,” he shot back, brushing off dust with a flourish, as if that would restore some of his dignity.

Little did he know, that only stirred her resolve. The truth was, he was doing all the talking, while she was the one who had his attention.

Evelyn followed him into the kitchen, only to find Agnes was already gone, leaving them to stare into a barren fridge.

“Seriously?” They both exchanged frustrated glances in that moment of emptiness.

“Yes, so what do you want?” he asked, bracing himself against the fridge as if it were a cross-section of his sanity.

Her eyes sparkled at the notion of food. “You can cook, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Edward scoffed. “I don’t cook for anyone.”

Well, that meant she wasn’t suitable enough in his eyes. Fine. She didn’t need his permission to eat well.

“Typical jerk,” she muttered under her breath, stepping around him, determined to find something edible.

Chapter 5

**A Lesson in Self-Control**

After more than half an hour, Evelyn sat in the restaurant, unceremoniously gnawing on a pig's trotter, completely unbothered by the spectacle she was making.

Across the table, Edward Hawthorne's brows knitted in doubt. Was this the same woman who’d been so composed in public, subtly expressing her peculiar infatuation with him? Who would debase themselves by chomping on trotters in front of someone they fancied?

Evelyn, blissfully absorbed in her feast, noticed Edward hadn’t touched his food. She raised an eyebrow, her mouth still full. “What’s the matter? Not to your taste?”

Wasn't this his chosen restaurant? The same one he frequented. Now that they’d ordered takeout, the flavor didn’t seem to hit the same way.

He picked up his chopsticks, forcing down a couple of bites. “Not at all, it’s fine. Just... still recovering from a bit of a shock,” he replied, an edge of irritation bleeding into his tone.

That shock was courtesy of Evelyn herself, who felt the barb aimed at her.

She glanced down at the pig’s trotter, a burst of flavor hitting her taste buds. If she was going to enjoy it, she might as well go all out—damn the formalities, bones and all.

Who cared about making an impression? A delicious meal took precedence over any worries of decorum.

Ignoring his thinly veiled critiques, Evelyn focused on her food, shoving another piece of trotter into her mouth. Edward’s lips twitched; surely, this couldn’t be the civilized Evelyn everyone thought they knew. He had checked in with the doctor to see if she could indulge since her injury had kept her from proper meals for too long. He had specifically ordered lighter fare that suited her, but she clearly had no interest in his attempts to be helpful.

It struck him that after everything, his absence during her ordeal might have been particularly heartless—a failure indeed. As the man in this relationship, he had an obligation to check in on his wife, lest others label him as cold and unfeeling.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. That’s on me. To make it up to you, I’ll have the shops you like deliver some new clothes and bags. Pick whatever you want,” he announced, his tone brokering no argument.

Evelyn paused, fork midway to her mouth, eyeing him incredulously. “Oh, you want to shut me up with money. How classy.”

Edward’s face hardened, irritated at her dismissive tone. “What more can I offer you? I can’t give you anything else.”

His temper simmered just below the surface. He had already compromised more than once; her lack of gratitude was starting to wear thin.

Evelyn sighed heavily, recognizing the flashing irritation in his eyes. “Fine. Just have someone drop off the stuff tomorrow. I’ll handle it.”

Inside, she felt the familiar thrill of excitement; it was like returning to a passion she had long neglected. She had always shunned the idea of spending Edward’s money, seeing it as a foolish entanglement given his treatment of her. He scarcely regarded her as a partner; to him, this was merely a strategic business arrangement—a partnership without benefits. Even if their families established a partnership, it would boil down to scraps for her; she’d receive nothing from it.

Why should she give up her happiness for a deal that meant nothing to her?

Frustration bubbled at the thought of the foolish woman who willingly floated into his grasp, yet here she was. Edward’s words about money had been a wake-up call, clarity breaking over her like the dawn. If he wanted to throw cash at her problems, who was she to refuse?

“By the way, if you think throwing money at me will make you feel better, don’t stop there. Find me a decent instrument shop specializing in traditional instruments. Thanks.”

While clothing and bags held little allure for her, a return to her musical roots tugged at her heart. Her treasured instrument was gone, but perhaps a guqin would suffice—especially in a house large enough to accommodate one more room dedicated to music.

“Also—how about carving out a room for a music studio? Make it private; I’d rather not run into each other.”

Evelyn had always enjoyed playing music, but over time, losses and disappointments had driven her to seek refuge in social circles, dabbling in jewelry design instead. She was decent at it but recognized her talent was limited and forced.

Evelyn shook her head, thinking of the incompetent woman she had vacated her space for. Strangely enough, she felt a sense of kinship; she, too, had pure intentions to learn but found herself destined for mediocrity.

Edward hadn’t anticipated how readily she would accept his monetary compensation—let alone request a music room and new instruments.

He had researched her; her musical skills seemed rough at best, so it seemed odd that she would ask for more just to collect dust.

Then again, perhaps this was a sign she had begrudgingly submitted to their situation. Her want for instruments hinted at her willingness to play along.

“Fine,” he relented, “I’ll have someone bring over the catalogs tomorrow. Pick anything you like, and we’ll get it.”

The more she locked into her desires instead of voicing her frustrations, the more he felt relieved.

They both knew where they stood—no lingering feelings, no emotional entanglements. The less they shared, the easier their lives might be.

“Alright, I’m done here,” she announced, pushing her bowl forward and standing up. “When you’re finished, just clean up.”

Evelyn felt restless, her thoughts racing ahead to the music instruments. The meal hadn’t captivated her interest for long.

Edward, who had never done house chores in his life, looked at her, incredulously. “You want me to tidy this?”

“Why not?” she shot back, glancing pointedly at her bandaged leg. “Young man, care to show a little courtesy? Have you not noticed I’m injured?”

If it weren’t for the urgent need to confront his infidelity, she wouldn’t have sunk so low.

Edward shot her a look somewhere between disbelief and exasperation. Ultimately, though, he kept his mouth shut.

Though he acknowledged her unreasonable demands had driven them to this moment, he also recognized he was the reason for it all in the first place.

If he’d sensed this attachment brewing from the start, he would have chosen differently.

This impulsive choice had led to enough trouble as it was.

There are limited chapters to put here, click the button below to continue reading "Bound by Contract and Desire"

(It will automatically jump to the book when you open the app).

❤️Click to read more exciting content❤️