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The Test I Wasn’t Meant to Pass
Last Updated:
2025-09-25 17:31:58
Latest chapter
His Billion-Dollar Secret Sophia’s Ultimatum
Sophia’s POVPeople always misunderstand silence.They think it means hesitation. Doubt. Weakness.They’re wrong.Silence is power—especially when you control when it ends. When you choose the exact moment to let words land like a blade.I learned that early. In boardrooms. In negotiations. Watching men talk themselves into mistakes simply because no one stopped them.And now, watching Amara from across the corridor, I knew exactly when to break mine.She stood near the windows, the city glittering behind her like a carefully staged illusion. Her phone was clenched too tightly in her hand, knuckles pale. She looked smaller today—not physically. She was still polished, still composed, still wearing the version of herself she showed the world.But something in her posture had folded inward.Good.That meant the folder had done its work.Fear is never loud at first. It slips in quietly. A missed dinner. Avoided eye contact. The way she stood alone now, instead of beside Damian.I waited.
His Billion-Dollar Secret The Distance Returns
Damian’s POVI knew something was wrong before she ever said a word.Actually—before, she avoided saying anything at all.Amara had always been guarded. Thoughtful. Careful with her emotions. But she wasn’t evasive. She didn’t disappear behind politeness or distance herself without reason. If something weighed on her, she carried it quietly—but she didn’t shut me out.Not like this.By midmorning, it was impossible to ignore.She didn’t stop by my office the way she usually did, coffee in hand, flipping through notes while talking like the space between us was effortless. She didn’t text during meetings, but she made dry observations that made the hours bearable. When I passed her in the hallway, she smiled—but it was detached. Polite. The kind of smile meant for someone you don’t really know.It unsettled me.I caught her after lunch.“Amara,” I said, stepping into her path without cornering her. “Do you have a minute? ”She stopped. Turned. Met my eyes.For half a second, I thought
His Billion-Dollar Secret The Secret in the Folder
Amara’s POVI stared at the folder for a full minute after Sophia left.It sat on the table like something alive—quiet, pulsing, poisonous.My hands wouldn’t move. My lungs barely did.The air felt thick and heavy, like the room itself was closing in.I wasn’t ready to open it.But not knowing would hurt even more.My fingers trembled as I slid the elastic off. The sound snapped through the room like a warning.Then I opened it.And everything inside me cracked.---The first page was a financial record—my brother’s name printed clearly at the top.I blinked. Reread it. Blinked again.Illegal loans.Predatory lenders.A forged signature.My mother’s signature.My stomach twisted hard.I flipped to the next page. My heartbeat thudded louder with each line.Court notices.Threats of asset seizure.A past complaint—withdrawn without explanation.Or paid off.The room swayed for a second.I knew my brother was desperate back then. I knew his debt after my father’s accident was bad. I knew
His Billion-Dollar Secret The Warning
Sophia’s POVPower was a funny thing.People thought you lost it the moment you stepped out of a building or left a title behind. But real power didn’t come from a desk or a nameplate.Real power lived in information.Secrets.Leverage.And I had plenty of that.Amara followed me into a small meeting room on the 18th floor. I chose this room on purpose—quiet, isolated, and well out of Damian’s line of sight. A place where conversations could slip through cracks unnoticed.She closed the door behind her, shoulders tight, fingers gripping her folder. She tried to look composed. Tried not to show she was afraid.She should’ve been.“Relax, Amara,” I said, settling gracefully into a chair and crossing my legs. “I didn’t bring you here to fight.”She didn’t sit.Of course she didn’t.“What do you want? ” she asked, voice steady but strained.Straightforward. Good. She wasn’t as naive as she used to be.I tilted my head. “It’s been a while. You could at least pretend to be civil.”“I’m busy
His Billion-Dollar Secret Sophia Returns
Amara’s POVSome days, the office felt like a living organism—breathing, shifting, absorbing everyone’s anxiety, and releasing it in small waves.Today, it felt like it was holding its breath.Like all the oxygen had been replaced with something sharper, heavier, waiting.And I knew why the moment the elevator doors opened.Sophia was back.Her heels clicked across the marble like a warning shot. She walked beside a board member, smiling like she owned the place—like she hadn’t nearly blown up the company with forged documents and quiet manipulation that sent us spiraling for weeks.And somehow, everyone acted normal. Like the ghost of a near-disaster wasn’t strutting through the hallway in a designer suit.I froze for half a second, clutching the folder in my hands. She looked exactly the same—sleek ponytail, flawless makeup, that signature red lipstick—but there was something colder in her eyes now. Something calculated.Her gaze swept the room.And landed on me.Her smile didn’t fa
His Billion-Dollar Secret The Perfect Moment
Damian’s POV I’ve handled billion-peso mergers, boardroom battles, hostile negotiations, and executives with egos bigger than skyscrapers. I’ve given speeches to hundreds, stared down investors twice my age, and rebuilt entire departments from scratch. But nothing—absolutely nothing—has ever made my hands shake like the idea of asking Amara to marry me. The velvet box on my desk might as well be a live bomb. “This shouldn’t be this terrifying,” I mutter. And yet it is—because this isn’t business. It’s her. And she matters in ways I spent years refusing to admit. Footsteps pass by in the hallway, and I snap the box shut, slipping it into my pocket. Even hidden, it feels heavy. Like it’s carrying every hope I buried, every longing I tried to suffocate, and every future I didn’t let myself imagine until she came back. The proposal has to be perfect. Not extravagant—Amara doesn’t care about that. I don’t need fireworks or a grand hotel ballroom or a dozen photographers. I just need
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