Chapter 60 - What We Don’t Say

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• Claimed By The Billionaire   Chapter 165 - The Longest Breath I've Held

  DamonKingsley nods, catching his breath. “Ithaca. That’s where she is.”I don’t say anything.I can’t. Not yet.I just stare ahead, like if I move too fast, this moment will turn into a dream. My chest is tight, and there’s a pressure in my throat I can’t swallow down.Then I reach for my phone.Kingsley doesn’t say a word, but he moves closer, his expression loud with questions he doesn’t need to voice. I already know what he’s thinking. And for the first time in two months, I’m not running from the answer.I tap Leo’s name. The line barely rings once.“Get the jet ready.” My voice comes out low but solid. My heart’s hammering against my chest. “Ithaca. Now.”There’s no hesitation on his end. Just a quick, “On it,” and the line goes dead.Kingsley claps a firm hand against my back. Then gives me a small nod. No words. But we both know this has been a long time coming.I turn toward the closet and pull on a pair of black pants and a navy-and-grey plaid shirt, and roll the sleeves up

• Claimed By The Billionaire   Chapter 164 - Rinse. Repeat. Remember

  DamonThe coffee’s gone lukewarm, but I take another sip anyway.My hand moves without looking, setting the cup back on the nightstand with the same ease it did yesterday. And the day before. And every other morning for the past two months.I close another tab, the spreadsheet blinking back at me like it wants to scream at me to get a life. That doesn't move me. I just drag another window across the screen. Q2 reports. Product rollouts. Europe expansion numbers. Emails from Shanghai and Lisbon, waiting. It never ends, and I don’t let it.Because the second I stop working, I start thinking. And thinking is the one thing I’ve been trying to outrun since the moment I walked away with my heart in my hand. So I work. Morning. Night. Rinse. Repeat.Shower. Clothes. Laptop. Work.Silence. Coffee. Work.Deadlines. Distractions. Anything but memory.Leo’s posted right outside the door. Has been for weeks. Doesn’t ask questions anymore. He just delivers whatever I need—laptop, food, chargers,

• Claimed By The Billionaire   Chapter 163 - Remembering, Gently

  AriaThe water runs hot and steady over my shoulders, but it does nothing to quiet my mind.I close my eyes and press my palms flat on the tile, trying to focus on the sound. The steam. My breath. Anything but the weight that continues living under my skin.I’ve taken so many showers in this apartment, way more than I can count—but somehow, every time, it feels like I’m washing off something I can’t quite name.Maybe a memory. Or memories. Maybe him.Because the truth is, the memories don’t hit all at once. For me, at least.They creep in quietly like he’s still here, pressing into the spaces I’ve tried to shut off.It’s never the bad memories that find me. Not the screaming or my countless pleas. Not the moment I realised he'd looked me in the eye and chose to pin me to his side, even after finding out.It’s always the quiet ones.Like that night at Ashbury Lane, when I was drenched, shaking, and almost passed out, and he showed up when I'd given up. The way he scooped me into his ar

• Claimed By The Billionaire   Chapter 162 - What I Asked For

  AriaIt’s been two months.Sixty-two days, to be exact, since I stood in that parking lot with my passport in one hand and five million dollars sitting in my account. The moment that was supposed to feel like freedom. A clean slate. A new beginning. A door shutting off all that was, and opening right up to all that could be.And it did feel like that—for a while.The first few weeks were noise and a lot of motion. Airports. Luggage wheels on glossy floors. The steady hum of engines. I ran as far and fast as I could. Madrid. Rome. Prague. Santorini. Seoul. Places Ava and I used to circle on magazine pages when we were kids, never actually believing we’d step foot in them.I did it alone. For myself. I tried new foods, walked crowded streets, and let myself get lost on purpose. And when I didn’t have the energy to pretend I was okay, I stayed in hotel rooms with those gigantic blackout curtains and let the silence press into me.I met someone in Santorini. Nico. Of course, his name was

• Claimed By The Billionaire   Chapter 161 - What You Always Wanted

  DamonWe step into the private parking shed, the early morning light spilling in soft and low, like it's trying to calm something that won't settle. My car’s right where I left it—clean and still, completely unbothered by the chaos still churning inside me.I rest against the hood, the metal warm under my hands. Kingsley leans on his car right next to mine, arms crossed. Quiet. Neither of us says a word.We just… stand there.There’s something about this silence that doesn’t feel like peace. It feels like waiting. Like the kind of quiet that settles right before the world burns again.I look over at him. “Any word from Leo?”Kingsley shakes his head. Doesn’t speak.Minutes pass. Long ones. The kind that stretches your nerves thin and pulls your patience out, one breath at a time. I reach into my pocket, my thumb already hovering over Leo’s name, when I hear it—the soft creak of a door opening behind us.I glance back.She’s walking out of the lobby, with just her phone clutched tight

• Claimed By The Billionaire   Chapter 160 - The Cost of Control

  DamonIt’s not the first punch I’ve ever thrown, but it’s the first one that feels like it’s hitting me back.My fist slams into James’s jaw, the force snapping his head to the side, blood flying from his mouth as he grunts, coughing it up onto the tiled floor.He’s cuffed, and his ankles are bound to the legs of the wooden chair he’s tied to. His arms are bound to the back of the seat, with his torso sagging forward, but still upright enough to glare at me like I’m the one who betrayed him.Fucking unbelievable.Kingsley moves quickly. Faster than I’ve seen him in weeks, stepping between us and grabbing my arm. “It’s okay. Damon. It’s okay.”But it’s not okay.Not even close.I fling his hands off me, rage still boiling just under my skin, and swing again. My shoulder tightens for another hit, but Kingsley blocks it, both arms out now, pressing against my chest. “Stop,” he says firmly. “That’s enough.”My breath’s coming hard, too hard, and my hands are shaking. I back off, dragging