When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 44

Emily

I delicately unwrapped the glossy white tissue paper, my fingers trembling with excitement.

The silky fabric slipped through my hands like flowing water—a stunning sky-blue strapless gown. Felix certainly knew how to pick gifts for women. The bodice hugged exactly where it should, and tiny crystals adorned the flowing skirt, catching the light with every movement.

My new bedroom in the Brooklyn brownstone was twice the size of my old one, with enough space for all the luxury items I’d been collecting. Designer shopping bags and exquisite gift boxes cluttered my vanity—each one a trophy, a step closer to the life I deserved.

Holding the gown against my body, I stared at my reflection. The blue complemented my skin tone perfectly, making my eyes look brighter, more alive. I imagined walking into Robert’s birthday party wearing this dress, Felix Black by my side, everyone’s eyes on us.

“One day,” I whispered to my reflection, “I’ll be Mrs. Black for real.”

I twirled, watching the crystals catch the light and shimmer like stars. I could almost hear the whispers as I entered the room. That’s Emily Thompson, Felix Black’s wife. Black Investment Group’s newest power couple.

The fantasy was so vivid I could taste it—champagne on my lips, Felix’s hand on the small of my back, the envious glances from women who’d never have what I would. Most importantly, I’d finally see the look on Amelia’s face when she realized I had surpassed her. Perfect, pristine Amelia, who everyone adored, who’d never had to fight for anything in her life.

My phone rang, startling me so badly I nearly dropped the dress. Unknown number. Probably another delivery confirmation. I’d been shopping a lot lately, trying to build a wardrobe worthy of a Black.

“Hello?” I answered, slightly annoyed at the interruption of my daydream.

“I have a proposition that could help you get what you want,” a woman’s voice said, low and calculated.

I froze. “Who is this? It’s pretty late for sales calls.”

“At tomorrow’s birthday party, put something in Amelia’s drink. Make sure she and Felix end up together.”

My grip on the phone tightened, the gown slipping from my other hand. “What? But Felix is my—” Shock and anger warred in my voice.

The implications hit me like a slap. This stranger was suggesting I help my boyfriend cheat on me with my stepsister. The very idea made my stomach twist into knots.

“Your what? Boyfriend?” The woman’s cold laugh sliced through the line. “Wake up, Emily. Look at yourself honestly for once.”

I sank onto my vanity chair, knees suddenly weak. “You don’t know anything about us,” I hissed, but insecurity had already wrapped around my chest like a vise.

“The gifts, the occasional dinners—you think that means anything? Do you understand who the Blacks are in this city?” Her voice hardened. “Wall Street royalty doesn’t marry girls like you for love. They marry for alliances, clean family histories, connections that strengthen their empires.”

Each word felt like a needle pricking my carefully constructed bubble of delusion. I’d known this somewhere deep down, but hearing it so bluntly made my eyes sting.

“Those little trinkets Felix gives you? They’re standard operating procedure. Ask around. Every girl gets the same treatment—just enough attention to keep you hoping, not enough to make any real commitment.”

I glanced at my vanity, at all the beautiful boxes and bags. Were they really just... standard? The thought made me nauseous.

“The only way you’ll ever truly have him is if he has no other choice,” she continued, her voice softening with false sympathy. “If his reputation is damaged, if he needs someone to stand by him when everyone else turns away—that’s your moment. That’s when you become necessary.”

I stared at the blue dress pooled on the floor. Just minutes ago, it had represented my future. Now it felt like evidence of my naïveté.

“This is insane,” I whispered, but I didn’t hang up. “Drugging someone at a public event? There would be witnesses everywhere. And Amelia’s a doctor—she’s always cautious about what she eats and drinks.”

The woman sighed, as if I was being deliberately obtuse. “I’ll handle the logistics. You just need to make sure Felix is there, and that he has a reason to be alone with Amelia at some point.”

My mind raced with possibilities and consequences. If Felix and Amelia were caught together in a compromising position... it would destroy his reputation temporarily, yes. But it would destroy Amelia’s marriage to Ethan Black permanently.

The thought sent a thrill of vindictive pleasure through me. Amelia—the perfect daughter, the brilliant doctor, the one Grandfather William loved more than anyone—brought down to my level. Maybe even lower.

“This stays between us,” the woman insisted. “Not even your mother can know. Do you understand?”

I hesitated. “Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?”

The line went silent so long I thought she’d hung up. Then: “I hate Amelia Thompson. She doesn’t deserve what she has. Watching her fall from grace, especially in her new husband’s eyes... that’s payment enough for me.”

The raw hatred in her voice was startling. Who was this woman? What had Amelia done to her?

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally, not committing either way.

“Don’t think too long. Tomorrow is your only chance.”

After she hung up, I sat motionless, staring at my reflection. The excited glow from earlier had faded, replaced by something harder, colder. I’d always known I’d have to fight dirty to get what I wanted. I just hadn’t expected the battlefield to shift so suddenly.

I dialed Amelia’s number, forcing sweetness into my voice when she answered.

“Sister dear, you remember Dad’s birthday party tomorrow, right?” I used the fake cheery tone that always irritated her.

“I’m busy. I don’t have time for meaningless parties,” Amelia replied coldly. The sound of hospital noises in the background made it clear she was at work, as usual.

“If you don’t come, you’ll miss quite a show,” I said, injecting just enough threat into my words. “We’ve moved into the brownstone, by the way.”

I hung up before she could respond, a smile spreading across my face as I pictured her reaction. Perfect Amelia, always so composed, so superior. Not for much longer.

I picked up the blue dress from the floor, smoothing it carefully before hanging it in my closet. It would be perfect for tomorrow’s event after all—just not in the way I’d originally imagined.

“Game on, sister,” I whispered to the empty room.