Nobela ni Debbie

For the rest of the day, Damian avoided her. Not obviously, he didn't hide, didn’t retreat, didn’t even dismiss her. He simply… moved strategically, like a man refusing to acknowledge the current running under his skin. Every time Arielle stepped into a room, he found a reason to step out. Every time she walked beside him, he put an extra inch of distance between them. The message was clear. We got too close. He’s shutting down. Arielle didn’t blame him. After last night’s storm, after waking in his arms, after that moment in the elevator when he almost, almost lost control… Yeah. She needed distance too. But the universe didn't agree. By evening, they returned to the mansion. The sky outside was pale gold drifting into evening blue, the kind of peaceful dusk that made everything feel softer. But inside the mansion, the atmosphere was tense and brittle, held together by thin threads neither of them dared touch. Dinner was quiet. Too quiet. Damian sat at the head of the tabl

waking up tightly wrapped around Damian wasn't what she imagined, the guy is too cold for that.For a moment, she forgot where she was. All she felt was warmth, strong, solid, steady warmth, wrapped around her like a shield she didn’t deserve. Then the thunderless silence reminded her, the storm had passed. The nightmare had happened. And she had made a mistake. She had comforted Damian Blackwood.she's fully awake now , and there he was, asleep beside her in the dim light. The man who terrified CEOs, ruined business empires, and spoke to her like she was disposable… lay and hug her tightly like something fragile he was afraid to lose. His arm was over her waist. His breath, warm against her neck. His hand, God, his hand, gently resting on her stomach, as if even in sleep he was subconsciously holding her close. Her heart lurched. They were married on paper. Practically strangers. And yet he looked… peaceful. Vulnerable. Human in a way she had never seen before. Arielle careful

The mansion was too quiet. Arielle had never noticed how large, echoing, and hollow the place felt until she returned from the board meeting, heart cracked, cheeks still wet from tears she pretended weren’t tears. She replayed Damian’s words over and over, each repetition a blade twisting deeper. She means nothing, She’s just a tool. Her chest tightened, Her throat ached. She knew this marriage wasn’t real, that she wasn’t supposed to expect warmth or loyalty or care, but hearing it spoken aloud, in that cold voice… That broke something. She walked straight past the kitchen, past the curious stares of staff, and went upstairs without stopping. She couldn’t face anyone. She couldn’t risk running into Damian. Not when she was this raw. Not when she still felt the echo of humiliation and betrayal burning under her skin. But the moment she reached the bedroom hallway, the universe turned cruel. Thunder cracked like a whip across the sky. A sudden storm, violent and unrelenting

Arielle didn’t sleep, She couldn’t. Her poverty photos spread across the internet like wildfire, retweeted, reposted, edited, mocked. Memes. Commentaries. Vicious captions like knives. “Damian married a charity case.” “She grew up in the slums. Class doesn’t lie.” “Gold digger. Social climber. Opportunist.” Every time she refreshed, there were more. By dawn, she sat curled on the couch in the dim living room, a blanket around her trembling shoulders, the blue morning light painting her face with ghosts. Her phone buzzed nonstop until she shut it off. She felt stripped bare. Exposed. A spotlight thrown on her ugliest years. She thought the worst part was the humiliation. But the real worst part was knowing Emma might see it. That the little girl she was fighting to save would now see her big sister dragged across the world like entertainment. Arielle buried her face in her hands. She didn’t hear Damian approaching until his shadow fell over her. He looked different. St

Arielle spent the day in the mansion trying to blend into the silence.The staff still watched her like she was a stray animal Damian had accidentally dragged in. Eyes followed her through the halls, curious, distrustful, waiting for her to make one wrong move.Her breathing incident at the gala had already become rumor. She’d overheard some maids whispering,“She fainted. Embarrassing.”“Mr. Blackwood had to carry her out.”“She’s too fragile for him.”Arielle closed the pantry door and leaned against it, pressing her palms into her eyes. Her chest felt tight again, not panic, just pressure.There was no room to collapse in this house.Not when she had Emma to save.Not when the marriage wasn’t real.Not when Damian himself was unpredictable, cold one moment, strangely attentive the next, then ice again.She needed to stay invisible.But the universe had other plans.---The crash began quietly, an echo of heels on marble.Arielle straightened as the footsteps approached, confident a

Arielle had never seen this many diamonds in one room. The gala shimmered like a kingdom built from glass, crystal chandeliers dripping light, champagne towers catching reflections, violins humming somewhere in the distance. Luxury pressed in from every angle, and she felt like an intruder wrapped in borrowed silk. Damian walked beside her like sin in a tuxedo. Cold. Controlled. Beautiful in the most terrifying way. His hand rested lightly at her lower back, not affectionate, just positioning her like a business asset. And yet her skin reacted as if he were touching her with fire. Arielle’s heels clicked against marble as cameras burst into flashes the second they entered. “There they are!” “Blackwood’s wife, finally!” “She’s… ordinary, isn’t she?” A whisper sliced through the air, loud enough for her to hear. Arielle stiffened, but Damian didn’t even turn his head. His expression stayed carved from stone. “You’re doing fine,” he murmured, voice quiet enough that only she co