Contract Wife's Hidden Identity Revealed

Dallas POV:

I sauntered into the hospital room, the scent of antiseptic and Killian’s cloying peonies making my nose wrinkle.

Elena was sitting up in bed, looking pale and pathetic. A charity case. That’s all she’d ever been—something Killian had scooped out of the gutter in a moment of weakness.

"You really don't belong in this world, do you?" I said, letting the door click shut behind me.

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. "Still playing the victim."

I pulled out my phone. "Remember this?" I hit play on a video from high school. Me, holding her down. The compass in my hand. The glint of the needle as I carved the word "Worthless" into her wrist. Her pathetic little sobs.

"Killian’s seen it," I added casually. "He thought it was hilarious. 'Kids being kids,' he said."

The color drained from her face, leaving it a blank, porcelain mask.

"He told me everything, you know," I purred, stepping closer to the bed. "About your depression. How you used to slice up your arms for attention. He even said Leo was a… what was the word? A burden. A financial drain."

I saw the flicker in her eyes, the shift from shock to pure, unadulterated rage.

"Oh, and the day your brother died?" I leaned in, my voice a cruel whisper. "Killian was in my bed. We were celebrating the funding for the sanctuary. He didn't even check his messages until the next morning."

Her hand shot out, reaching for the fruit knife on her meal tray. But my next words froze her mid-reach.

"He wants a divorce," I lied, a slow, triumphant smile stretching my lips. "He wants to be with me. A real woman, from a real family."

I expected a fight, tears, a satisfying breakdown.

Instead, she just nodded, her gaze unnervingly steady. "Fine. I'll sign."

That infuriated me. She was supposed to *fight* for him. Her easy surrender felt like an insult. I wanted to see her grovel.

In a fit of rage, I shoved her. Hard.

She tumbled from the bed, her body hitting the floor with a dull, sickening thud. Her head cracked against the metal leg of the nightstand. I heard a small, sharp snap as her hand twisted beneath her.

Perfect.

I ground my stiletto heel into her injured hand, right over the old scar, enjoying the small whimper of pain she couldn't suppress.

The door opened. Killian.

I instantly recoiled, my face transforming into a mask of pure terror.

"She attacked me!" I shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the knife on the floor. "She tried to stab me!"

Just then, Elena’s phone, lying on the bedspread, rang. The screen lit up. The caller ID read: MARK - COUNTY CLERK.

"Ma'am?" a man's voice said from the speakerphone. "This is Mark from the County Clerk's office. I'm calling to follow up on your inquiry. I’ve reviewed the documents."

There was a brief pause.

"There is no record of a marriage license ever being filed for an Elena Ramos and a Killian Emerson. According to the state, you were never legally married."