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Billionaire Bombshell
Last Updated:
2025-07-02 09:30:09
Latest chapter
Masked By Millions Ghosts For Silk
The revelation of her mother’s survival was a ghost that refused to rest. Zara stood at the window of Alec’s penthouse, overlooking the Seine’s restless flow, the city’s lights flickering like distant memories. In her hands was the folder Sienna had delivered—stamped with evidence of her mother’s clandestine existence and a network of betrayals that wound through every corner of Zara’s life.Alec entered, silent as midnight. He watched her shoulder shake when she unfolded a photograph: a younger version of Zara’s mother, Vivienne Lane, alive—smiling—standing beside a man with the same cold eyes as Valerius Noir.“Tell me you’re kidding,” Zara whispered, voice brittle.Alec crossed the room in two strides. “There’s more,” he said, placing fresh documents on the table: financial records, shipping manifests, legal papers—proof that Vivienne had faked her death to escape an empire built on trafficking, then re-emerged as a silent partner in Noir’s new syndicate.Zara’s breath caught. “So
Masked By Millions Crimson Ties
The wind howled through the narrow Parisian alley, slicing through the city like a whisper of violence. Zara’s boots echoed against the cobblestones as she stalked forward, Alec beside her, his phone gripped like a weapon.They had one lead.One last thread connecting the dots between her father’s disappearance, Juliette’s reappearance, and the offshore account laundering millions through her brand. And if this thread snapped?Everything fell apart.“I traced the call,” Alec said, voice tight. “The signal bounced through five dummy towers, but the final bounce came from Rue des Voleurs. It’s not on any official city grid.”Zara’s brow furrowed. “Thieves’ Alley?”He gave her a look. “Fitting, isn’t it?”They turned the corner into a ghost street—buildings in decay, boarded shops, a low hum of something off vibrating beneath the silence.They reached a rusted antique shop at the end.No name. No signs. Just a red ribbon tied to the gate.Zara stopped cold.Her father used to mark her ch
Masked By Millions Embers Don’t Lie
The footage still echoed in the walls of the Palais Garnier.Security had hauled Juliette out screaming, mascara streaking like inked confessions. Bianca had disappeared, slipping away in the chaos like the serpent she was. Valerius? He remained rooted in his seat, arms folded, watching the flames he helped light consume the room.And in the center of it all—Zara stood tall.No apologies.No fear.Only fire.The crowd had turned electric. Designers whispered in huddles. Media swarmed. Phones recorded every gasp. And through it all, Zara walked off the runway like a queen who’d just executed a coup.Backstage, Nora sobbed into her headset. “You did it,” she whispered. “Zara, you—”“I know,” Zara murmured. But her voice wasn’t victorious.It was trembling.She reached for the velvet curtain and slipped out the side exit before the mob could descend. She needed air. Silence. A moment alone before the world twisted this into a headline.Except she wasn’t alone.Alec stood there, waiting i
Masked By Millions Dressed In Fire
Zara Milli Lane didn’t just walk into the show—she stormed in, dressed in a floor-length black satin gown cut dangerously high up her thigh, every inch of it molded to her like armor. Her heels clicked across the marble like a war drum as whispers followed her. The whispers turned to gasps when the spotlight hit her, and every camera in the room turned.Paris Fashion Week had bowed before her before, but never like this.The moment was hers. And she was going to use it.She passed Bianca Renault at the entrance, who looked up from her champagne flute and offered a smile too sweet to be anything but venom. Her glittering red gown shimmered like blood under the lights.“Darling,” Bianca cooed. “You’re brave to show your face.”Zara’s lips curled into a lethal smirk. “I wear my face better than most wear their lies.”Bianca’s eyes narrowed—but she didn’t respond. Not here. Not yet.Inside, the crowd was already abuzz. Alec hadn’t arrived. Neither had Juliette. But Valerius Noir’s presenc
Masked By Millions The Velvet Guillotine
The camera flashes went off like silent gunfire as Zara Milli Lane stepped onto the crimson-carpeted runway, her floor-length gown dripping in obsidian silk and slit to the thigh like a threat. Every inch of her presence was a declaration—of power, of rage, of survival. The dress had no zipper. It had vengeance stitched into its hem.Tonight wasn’t just about fashion.It was about reclaiming what was stolen.Behind the velvet curtains, Alec Blackwell watched her from the shadows, his jaw tight, fists clenched in his pockets. He hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Not with Juliette whispering threats about Zara’s father’s whereabouts, and not with Valerius Noir leaking blackmail that could bury his legal empire in a heartbeat.Zara walked like she didn’t know that.But she did.Every move was calculated. Her look, her aura—it wasn’t just to sell fabric. It was to provoke a war.“Kill the lights right before she turns,” Zara had instructed her creative director earlier. “I want them to see me disap
Masked By Millions Silk And Sabotage
The vault beneath the Paris atelier was colder than she remembered.Zara Milli Lane’s heels echoed against polished marble as she moved past the reinforced doors Alec had once sworn didn’t exist. The air was thick with the scent of aged paper, old perfume, and gun oil. She could hear the silence bending around her, too quiet for a place holding secrets this heavy.Behind her, Jordan followed in his all-black suit, a pistol tucked beneath his tailored coat and his eyes trained on every shadow.“You’re sure about this?” he asked.Zara didn’t answer right away. Her gloved fingers brushed the frame of a photo—a faded Polaroid from the late ’90s. A fashion show in New York. A woman standing in front of the runway with red lips and a thousand-yard stare.Juliette Renault.“She was always two steps ahead,” Zara murmured, voice like steel. “But this time, I own the chessboard.”She moved to the next drawer, opened it, and pulled out a leather-bound portfolio labeled Client X. Inside were phot
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