Overbearing CEO's Contract Love
Chapter 76: He Isn’t Dead

Chapter 76: He Isn’t Dead

As night fell, the darkness slowly engulfed the city, creeping into every corner of the room.

Emma Hart could feel her eyelids growing heavier by the minute, a darkness within her that didn’t need the absence of light to exist.

She succumbed to sleep, wishing to escape her thoughts into the oblivion of slumber.

Outside, Damien Sterling returned from his office to the tranquility of his villa, where only Mrs. Harris’s soft bustling broke the silence.

"Where is she?" he inquired, his voice deep and laced with a hint of exhaustion.

Mrs. Harris, carrying a tray with a cup of revitalizing tea, replied, "Mr. Sterling, Miss Emma has already retired to bed."

Glancing out the window, noticing the night had just begun to deepen, he remarked, "She’s asleep already?"

Mrs. Harris nodded, recalling the troubled look on Emma Hart’s face, wondering about the cause but knowing her place as a servant not to pry. "Perhaps... she’s just tired?"

"Hmm," Damien mused, bringing the cup to his lips but paused, struck by a sudden thought, "Is she ill?"

The flicker of concern in Damien Sterling’s eyes was brief but telling, quickly masked by his usual composure.

Mrs. Harris, however, noticed his momentary anxiety. "I asked Miss Emma, she mentioned she was just tired."

"That’s good then," he responded, setting the cup down untouched and headed upstairs without a second glance.

"Mr. Sterling, aren’t you dining tonight?" Mrs. Harris called out.

Damien dismissed the question with a wave of his hand, his mind solely focused on seeing Emma.

His steps quickened as he ascended the staircase.

Gently pushing the door open, the dim light from the hallway fell softly on Emma’s serene face.

He moved closer, bending down to listen to her breathing, only to notice her slightly furrowed brow.

His hand instinctively reached out, touching her face, pondering what could possibly trouble her.

Her life was one of luxury, second to none but him, and all he desired was her compliance—nothing more.

Was that too much to ask? He couldn’t help but wonder whose shadow caused her distress, withdrawing his hand as the thought crossed his mind.

Damien felt fortunate that Emma was asleep, sparing him the embarrassment of being seen in such a vulnerable state.

No woman had ever captivated his heart and soul like this.

At midnight, the hand that Damien Sterling was holding trembled suddenly, as whispers of unease escaped Emma Hart, her voice filled with distress.

Damien quickly rose, his expression fraught with concern as he watched Emma.

She was tossing and turning, murmuring something with an undertone of nervousness, worry, and anxiety...

Such reactions hinted at the importance of the person she was calling out for.

Leaning closer, Damien finally made out the name Emma was whispering, "Ethan Turner... Ethan Turner..."

Upon clearly hearing the name uttered by Emma, a displeasure crossed Damien’s face, morphing into a dark, ominous scowl.

He clenched his fists in anger.

The idea of her, in his bed, by his side,calling out another man’s name was intolerable.

Despite his repeated declarations that all he wanted from her was physical, this name, her actions, still managed to shake his heart.

In her half-asleep state, Emma felt someone’s presence. Merging with her dream, she grabbed the arm before her, feeling a sudden peace at the touch.

A smile crossed her face as she murmured, "Ethan Turner, it’s good you’re here..."

Though spoken softly, Damien heard every word, his anger prompting him to shake off Emma’s hand forcefully.

Emma’s hand was flung aside, jolting her awake as she sat up abruptly, pleading, "Don’t go!"

Opening her eyes, she saw Damien Sterling’s face emerge from the darkness, his sharp eyes emitting a chilling aura, shining like bright stars even in the pitch black.

Why was it him?

Looking around, Emma searched for Ethan Turner, slowly realizing it might have just been a dream.

Tears streamed down her face at the realization.

In her dream, Ethan had returned, reassuring her he’d never leave again.

Yet, something seemed to separate them in the end, the details blurred and forgotten...

Emma clasped her head in her hands, unable to forget that man, struggling with the clean break others seemed capable of.

Despite the cruelty he had shown her, she couldn’t learn to forget him quickly.

"Who are you thinking about?" Damien’s voice, cold and piercing as the night itself, made the darkness even more desolate.

"Nobody," Emma responded, her voice distant.

She didn’t wish to provoke him, knowing it would bring her no benefit.

With a click, the man flicked on the light, bathing the room in a harsh glow that forced Emma Hart to squint against the brightness, her lies illuminated along with the room.

"I’ll ask you again, who are you thinking of?"

She lifted her gaze to meet his, his features twisted in a fearsome expression that frightened her.

The tense atmosphere pushed her into a defensive lie, "I’m not thinking of anyone."

"Tell me, who is it?" his voice rose, piercing the tranquil night.

"I’m not!" Emma’s voice cracked under the strain, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed.

"Is it Ethan Turner?" His eyes widened with fury, his anger palpable.

Emma didn’t want to hear that name, Damien Sterling had told her Ethan Turner was dead.

"Is it?" Damien pressed her further.

"Yes! I’m thinking of him, but what can I do about it? Wasn’t it enough for you to torment him? You had to have him killed, Damien Sterling. You’re all-powerful, can do anything."

"I’m begging you, please, don’t involve anyone close to me anymore. Please," Emma pleaded, her breaths coming in rapid gasps.

Damien watched her hysterical state, his clenched fists revealing his helplessness.

"He’s not dead," he finally spoke with calm assurance.

Emma stilled, disbelief etching her features as she stared at Damien, unable to detect any deceit on his face.

He had assured her of Ethan’s death, and now claimed the opposite. Which was the truth?

Damien,unangered, carefully pulled the blanket over her, as if fearing she might catch cold.

Emma pushed away the quilt, her gaze fixed on Damien, "You’re lying!"

"No," he said, reaching to cover her again with the blanket she had pushed away.

"Swear on our child!" she demanded.

Damien looked up sharply, her insistence on using their child as a testament to another man’s life striking him deeply.

"Emma Hart! This is my final warning. I say he’s not dead, and if you keep this up, I wouldn’t mind ensuring he really does die!"

His emphasis on the word "die" hung in the air like a grim sentence.

Emma dared not anger him further.