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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — UNFORSEEN DISCOVERY
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2026-02-28 04:44:13Aria's POV
I stood outside the glass doors of the private medical suite, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Lucien’s chest. He looked fragile, pinned to the bed by plastic tubes and glowing wires. The high-tech hum of the monitors felt like a countdown I couldn't stop.
Marcus stood by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His suit jacket was off, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a man who had been at war for forty-eight hours straight.
"He’s stable," Marcus said, though his voice lacked its usual iron. "But the doctors say the next few hours are critical. The strain on his heart was too much."
I turned to him, the wooden box with the silver compasses still heavy in my pocket. "Marcus, talk to me. What really happened? You said it was the mission, but I saw the scars. That wasn't just shrapnel. That looked like a lifetime of trauma."
Marcus tightened his jaw. He looked at Lucien, then back at me with an hesitant expression. "I’m sorry, Mrs Blackwood. You know how he is. His medical files are on a need-to-know basis. It’s confidential."
"I am his wife," I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "I think I have a right to know if the man I’m living with is about to drop dead."
"You’re the last person he wants knowing the details," Marcus replied quietly. "He’s spent years trying to be the man you need, not the man he actually is. I can’t betray that trust."
He turned away, ending the conversation. I watched him walk down the hall to consult with the head of security, leaving me in the shadows of the medical wing.
Marcus wouldn't talk. Lucien couldn't. But the penthouse was currently crawling with private medical staff, people who didn't have the same lifelong loyalty to the Blackwood name.
I waited until shift change. A young nurse named Elena was packing her bag in the small breakroom near the ICU. She looked exhausted, her eyes darting toward the security cameras with a nervous energy. She was a temp, brought in to assist the regular team. She was the weak link.
I walked into the breakroom and closed the door. I didn't threaten her, I just set a thick envelope of cash on the table. I pulled it from the emergency stash Lucien kept in the library.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," I said, my voice low and steady. "I just want to know why my husband is in that bed. Tell me what’s in his charts, and you can walk out of here with a year's salary."
Elena looked at the envelope, then at me. Her hands shook. "They’ll fire me. If Mr. Blackwood finds out..."
"Mr. Blackwood is unconscious," I reminded her. "Talk."
She swallowed hard, her voice a frantic whisper. "It’s his heart, Mrs. Blackwood. It's... it's a genetic condition. It runs in the family. His father had the same thing, that's what actually killed him so young. It’s a defect he’s lived with his whole life."
I felt a chill run down my spine. It wasn't just a wound from a mission. It was a ticking bomb in his DNA.
"He’s had multiple surgeries," she continued, words spilling out now. "Transplants, grafts... his body is constantly under stress. The doctors warned him he needs absolute calm, but his blood work tells a different story. It’s full of markers for chronic stress and... and alcohol."
"Alcohol?" I asked as my brows furrowed.
"High levels of it in his system periodically," she whispered. "I overheard the staff gossip that says that whenever things get tense in the house, whenever you and he are at odds, he locks himself away. He drinks himself into a stupor just to numb the strain. It’s poison for a heart like his. Between the drinking and the constant worrying over you, he’s pushing himself to the brink."
I leaned against the counter, my head spinning. Lucien wasn't just a cold, possessive billionaire. He was a man holding a crumbling dam together with his bare hands. He was worrying himself into a grave over a woman who didn't even remember why she hated him. Every argument we had, every time I pushed him away, he went to a bottle and let his heart wither.
I let Elena leave as I stood in the dark breakroom, the silence of the penthouse pressing in on me.
Now the photograph and the box made a different kind of sense. If my so-called brother had known about this, that Lucien was a man destined to die young, he would have fought the marriage. He wouldn't have seen Lucien as a protector. He would have seen him as a death sentence for me.
I walked back to Lucien’s bedside. I looked at the man under the sheets. He looked so still, so peaceful. But inside his chest, a battle was being fought that he was destined to lose.
I pulled the silver compass from my pocket and laid it on the bedside table.
"You did all of this for me," I whispered. "You’ve been killing yourself to keep me in this life."
I felt a flicker of the old Aria. She wanted to be angry about the secrets. But the woman sitting in the red emergency light only felt a crushing, suffocating guilt. Lucien was literally dying to keep me safe, and I was the very thing causing the stress that was killing him.
I reached out and took his hand. It was warmer now, a faint sign of life returning to his weak body. I knew I should leave. I knew I should use this time to find Vane and get the rest of the story.
But as I looked at Lucien, I knew I couldn't go. Not yet.
"Wake up, Lucien," I murmured, leaning my head against his arm. "Wake up so I can decide if I’m going to forgive you or..." I couldn't think about another option.
บทล่าสุด
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Aria's POVThe morning sun filtered through the high-performance glass of the medical wing, turning the sterile room into a soft, hazy gold color. Lucien was still asleep, his breathing deep and even for the first time in hours. I hadn't moved from his side. My head was rested on the edge of his mattress, my hand still tucked firmly in his.The quietness was shattered by the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps in the hallway. These weren't the silent, tactical steps of Chen or Marcus. They were deliberate and commanding.The door slid open, and Helena Blackwood stepped inside.She wasn't wearing her usual structured boardroom armor. Instead, she wore a simple black silk wrap, her silver ha
FORCED TO WED THE BILLIONAIRE CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — A LOVE MEAL
Aria's POVI sat by Lucien’s bed for hours, my hand locked in his. The nurse’s words looped in my mind, Genetic. Chronic stress. Alcohol. I looked at his pale face. This man, who moved mountains to keep me in a gilded cage, was crumbling from the inside out. Every time I had fought him, every time I had looked at him with cold suspicion, I had been pushing him closer to this bed. The guilt was like a heavy weight in my chest, heavier than the wooden box still tucked in my jacket.I didn't want to ask about Vane anymore. I didn't care about the boy on the beach or the "J" on the compass. Not right now. I just wanted the man in front of me to breathe without a machine.Around 4:00 A&z
FORCED TO WED THE BILLIONAIRE CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — UNFORSEEN DISCOVERY
Aria's POVI stood outside the glass doors of the private medical suite, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Lucien’s chest. He looked fragile, pinned to the bed by plastic tubes and glowing wires. The high-tech hum of the monitors felt like a countdown I couldn't stop.Marcus stood by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. His suit jacket was off, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a man who had been at war for forty-eight hours straight."He’s stable," Marcus said, though his voice lacked its usual iron. "But the doctors say the next few hours are critical. The strain on his heart was too much."I turned to him, the wooden box with the silver compasses still heavy in my pocket. "Marcus, talk to me. What really happened? You said it was the mission, but I saw the scars. That wasn't just shrapnel. That looked like a lifetime of trauma."Marcus tightened his jaw. He looked at
FORCED TO WED THE BILLIONAIRE CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — THE UNEXPECTED COLLAPSE
Aria's POVLucien was still standing by the darkened television, his silhouette cast in jagged red by the emergency lights. He looked like a king standing amidst the ruins of his palace. His chest was heaving, his hand still white-knuckled around the grip of his gun."Lucien?" I stopped in my tracks as I called out.My voice was cold, filtered through the new layer of distrust I felt. I still had the wooden box tucked behind my back, the silver compasses biting into my palm. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to demand the name of the boy in the photo.But Lucien didn’t turn around.He stayed frozen, staring at the black screen where Vane’s face had been moments ago. Then, a strange sound came from him, a harsh, wet wheeze that sounded like air being forced through a crushed pipe.His gun slipped from his hand. It hit the thick carpet with a dull thud."Lucien!"My suspicion vanished, replaced by the sharp, electric jolt of my
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Aria's POVThe library was too cold. The air felt thin and clinical, like everything else in the high-tech prison Lucien called a home. I stood against the mahogany shelves, my fingers tightening around the small wooden box. Inside, the silver compasses clinked. The sound was soft, but in the dead silence, it sounded like a warning.I turned the bent compass over and I felt the tiny, jagged engraving on the back.J & A.The letters were old and faded. A was for Aria. That was me. But the J was like a hole in my life. My mind searched for a name, a face, or a voice but I found nothing. The amnesia was a solid wall, cold and unyielding.Lucien had told me I was alone. When I woke up in that hospital bed, he was the only thing I had. He told me my parents were dead. He said I had no siblings. He said he was the only anchor I had left in a dangerous world.Liar.The thought didn't come from my brain. It came from my
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Aria's POVThe silence following my question was more than just an absence of sound, it was a physical weight. Lucien’s hand, usually an immovable anchor of strength, was trembling against my waist. The "Dark Lord" who had just dismantled a boardroom full of predators looked like he was staring at his own executioner."Lucien," I repeated, my voice dropping to a whisper as I searched his face. "Who is Vane? Why are you reacting like this?"He didn't answer. He couldn't. He looked at Marcus, a silent command passing between them that I couldn't decipher. Without a word, Lucien hauled me toward the private elevator, his stride frantic and disjointed.As the doors hissed shut, plunging us into the high-speed descent, Lucien finally turned to me. His eyes were no longer silver, they had darkened to something terrifyingly black."Vane is a ghost I thought I had buried, Aria," he rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones. "
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