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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: A DIFFERENT DRIVE
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2025-06-03 01:15:13
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Married To The Crippled Billionaire CHAPTER THIRTY: MARKED SAFE
I leaned back, a playful glint in my eye. “A celebrity, huh? Next time we’re in public, you’ll need shades,” I teased, giggling, picturing him in dark sunglasses, dodging fans. He raised an eyebrow, his smile sly. “Same with you now, Mrs. Harrison. You’re my wife—fame comes with the package.” I laughed, swatting his arm. “Oh, wow, silly me to forget!” The banter felt light, our connection deepening, my fear of public eyes softening in his humor.As we shared the bruschetta, his fingers brushed mine, a spark of warmth igniting. “You’re quick,” I said, popping it in my mouth, my laugh bubbling up, surprising me with its ease. This is me, laughing, I thought, my weak-to-strong arc shining. We talked more—Mia’s “math party” plans, my sushi love, his taco obsession, our late-night texts’ ease flowing. “Mia wants prize stickers,” I said, grinning. “Boardroom tips?” His “Bribe them with tacos” drew a giggle, his deep laugh filling the café.The world faded as the café's brightness and the hu
Married To The Crippled Billionaire CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: LUNCH BREAK
Layla Pov With the sun shining on my cream blouse, I walked into Harmony Haven. However, work came in full force, consuming my morning with a tidal wave of responsibilities. Third-grade arithmetic tests, Mia's fraction papers with glittering stars, and a pile of reading logs in need of comments crowded my desk. At 10 a.m., a staff meeting demanded a report on student participation, so I hurried to gather information—charts, notes, and observations—while rubbing chalk dust on my slacks with my fingertips. I ran back to my classroom, barely paying attention to the principal's "Thanks, Layla," as I went to the main office to drop off the report, avoiding the discussion in the hallway. By 11am was marking spelling tests, my head pounding.By midday, I was experiencing a searing pain in my gut that I couldn't ignore. I chastised myself for eating my fruit salad sandwich in the car since the bananas and strawberries were extremely sweet. I didn't save it, but why? I thought as I leaned bac
Married To The Crippled Billionaire CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: A DIFFERENT DRIVE
Layla PovI awoke to the gentle hum of the estate while golden striations appeared on my quilted bedspread as sunshine filtered through the gauzy curtains. The sound of morning birds beckoned me to get out of bed, and I felt lighter today, with the comfort of breakfast and study sessions with Dario clinging to me like a silent pledge. As I stretched, my bare feet grazing the soft blanket, a mixture of excitement and scepticism flickered through my mind: Can I believe this sensation?In order to enhance my confidence, I wore tailored pants with a simple yet elegant fit and a cream shirt with a silky texture that felt good against my skin for Harmony Haven. My fingers were lingering over a hair tie when I stopped at the mirror. Although tying it felt secure and in control, I wanted to let things happen naturally and keep Dario's warmth. My weak-to-strong arc stirred as I wore my hair loose, its waves grazing my shoulders as a sign of openness. Under the large windows, the kitchen's spot
Married To The Crippled Billionaire CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN:THE SPARK BEGINS
As I stared into Dario's study's silent glow, my heart lurched as his eyes locked with mine. I had been preoccupied with him, not the Child Psychology book on my lap, but with his powerful jaw and the way his old grey shirt embraced his shoulders. I attempted to hide it, furrowing my forehead as though I was thinking deeply, but his gentle, playful tone broke through my armour. "Is that book difficult for you?" he enquired, examining my unread pages. "How about looking it up online?" I felt a heat crawl up my neck and my cheeks burned as his eyes twinkled, as if he knew I had been daydreaming. This man had exposed my deception, and my weak-to-strong arc was telling me to defend myself as my thoughts frantically searched for a way out.I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and mumbled, "Uh, yeah," speaking too quickly. It's a thick book. The Internet is most likely superior. Although it was clear that I was nervous, Dario's smile broadened and his laughter was sympathetic rather than m
Married To The Crippled Billionaire CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: THE SPARK BEGINS
As I stared into Dario's study's silent glow, my heart lurched as his eyes locked with mine. I had been preoccupied with him, not the Child Psychology book on my lap, but with his powerful jaw and the way his old grey shirt embraced his shoulders. I attempted to hide it, furrowing my forehead as though I was thinking deeply, but his gentle, playful tone broke through my armor. "Is that book difficult for you?" he inquired, examining my unread pages. "How about looking it up online?" I felt a heat crawl up my neck and my cheeks burned as his eyes twinkled, as if he knew I had been daydreaming. This man had exposed my deception, and my weak-to-strong arc was telling me to defend myself as my thoughts frantically searched for a way out.I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and mumbled, "Uh, yeah," speaking too quickly. It's a thick book. The Internet is most likely superior. Although it was clear that I was nervous, Dario's smile broadened and his laughter was sympathetic rather than mo
Married To The Crippled Billionaire CHAPTER TWENTY SIX: DRAWN TO HIM
Layla Pov The breakfast remained like a smoldering spark in my heart. Or the heir in a wheelchair, but the man who noticed me. I, therefore, came up with a justification: research for my Harmony Haven lesson. The reality? Children were off for a public holiday. All I wanted was to be close to him, which is what I love about school. Nestled in the west wing of the Harrison estate, Dario's study was a sanctuary of intelligence. The walls were lined with dark oak shelves that were piled high with business files and leather-bound books, their edges worn from years of use. The space was anchored by a mahogany desk that was strewn with documents and a modern laptop, demonstrating Dario's proficiency. A leather armchair by a large window and the burgundy carpeting were warmed by the soft light that split from a bronze lamp. The scent of cedar and old paper permeated the air, providing a peaceful counterpoint to the sparkling mayhem of the Vance dinner party. Dario was sitting at the desk w
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