All Chapters of A YEAR'S CONTRACT : Mr billionaire's wedding: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

WRITER'S POV The funeral had drained Anne of what little energy she had left. As the last mourner left the graveside, Luke gently guided her to the car. The ride back to the mansion was quiet, the silence filled with unspoken grief and exhaustion. Anne leaned her head against the window, the reality of her father's death still a heavy weight on her heart. When they arrived at the mansion, Luke helped her out of the car. Anne was too tired to notice the grandeur this time; all she wanted was to collapse somewhere safe. He led her inside, his hand steadying her as they walked through the hallways. The warmth and comfort of the mansion were a stark contrast to the cold reality she had just faced. Luke didn’t say much as he guided her to her room. He simply helped her out of her coat and shoes, then pulled back the covers on the bed. Anne sat down heavily, her movements slow and mechanical. “Get some rest,” Luke said softly, his voice filled with concern. “I’ll be here if you need an

WRITER'S POV The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Luke stirred first, blinking awake as the memories of the night before slowly came into focus. He felt the warmth of Anne’s body beside him and turned his head to see her still asleep, nestled against him.For a brief moment, everything felt right. But then, reality came crashing down, bringing with it a wave of guilt and confusion. Luke’s heart pounded in his chest as he realized what they had done, the line they had crossed in their vulnerability. The consequences, the complications—they all rushed back to him in an overwhelming flood.Anne began to stir, her eyelids fluttering open as she adjusted to the morning light. The first thing she noticed was the weight of Luke’s arm draped over her, the intimacy of their position. Her breath caught in her throat as the memories of the night before washed over her.She looked up at Luke, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared realizati

WRITER'S POV Megan sat alone in her apartment, the dim light of dusk filtering through the curtains as she stared at the photograph in her hand. It was an old picture of her and Luke, taken years ago when they were still so in love, back before everything fell apart. She traced the edges of the photo with her finger, her heart heavy with regret. She hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. When she came back to Luke, she was desperate, searching for a better life, lost in a whirlwind of emotions she could barely understand herself. She had wanted all for herself and then the baby came along and now, as the reality of her situation sank in, Megan couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. She had forced herself back into Luke’s life, but she wasn’t even sure if the child she carried was his. Her thoughts drifted back to two years ago, when everything had changed. It had been a time of hope and dreams for her and Luke, when their love seemed unbreakable. They had been

Megan’s heart pounded in her chest as she walked through the sterile halls of the hospital, her footsteps echoing off the tiled floor. The moment she had been dreading for days was finally here. The DNA results were in. She had spent countless nights agonizing over what they might reveal, but now that the truth was within reach, she wasn’t sure she was ready to face it. As she approached the reception desk, her hands trembled, her breath shallow with anxiety. The receptionist, a woman with a kind smile and tired eyes, handed her an envelope, her expression neutral. Megan’s fingers fumbled with the paper, the weight of her decision bearing down on her. “Good luck,” the receptionist said softly, her words a small comfort in the storm of emotions swirling inside Megan. Megan barely managed a nod as she took the envelope and moved to a quiet corner of the hospital. She sat down on a bench, her hands shaking as she stared at the unopened envelope. The truth was inside, waiting to

Luke's pov I stood by the window of my study, staring out at the sprawling grounds of the mansion, but my mind was far from the peaceful view. The file on Anne’s mother lay on my desk, its presence a constant reminder of the secrets I was yet to reveal to her. Margaret Devlin. The name was just a footnote in Anne’s life, a ghost that had haunted her without her even realizing it. The woman had lived a life far removed from the simple, loving mother Anne had always imagined. But I couldn’t drop this bomb on her—not yet. Not until I was sure she was ready to handle it. I needed to approach this delicately, to be there for her when the time came. But before any of that, I needed to know where we stood, Anne and I. Taking a deep breath, I closed the file and left the study, my steps taking me through the quiet halls of the mansion until I found her in the garden. The sight of her always managed to stir something deep inside me. She was kneeling by the flower beds, gently pruning a