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Chapter 128: Paper Ghosts
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2026-09-06 05:00:41Elowen's POV
The ninetieth floor of Vane Global had always felt like a fishbowl built out of soundproof glass.
Everyone could see you, but nobody could hear you. For eight months I'd sat behind my desk hyper-aware of every associate walking past, every glance from Croft's corner, every time Killian's shadow crossed my doorway.
On Tuesday morning, for the first time, I sat in that chair and didn't care who was look
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The Billionaire’s Blood Debt: Ruined by My Enemy Chapter 162: A Mexican Standoff
Elowen's POVI didn't sleep a single minute.The blank notebook stayed on the nightstand right where Killian had left it, its clean cream pages sitting under the dim glow of the city lights.His words kept ringing in my head, cold and insulting. He hadn't agreed to the divorce. He hadn't even taken it seriously. Instead of letting me go, he had tossed that notebook in my lap, called himself a cheerful giver, and told me to write down a number. He acted like my life, my anger, and my desire to get away from him could be settled like a bar tab.A deep, bitter hatred burned in my chest.I was sick of him, sick of his calm voice, and sick of the way he looked at me like he owned every breath I took. He wasn't giving me a divorce. He was just offering me money to shut up and stay put.By six in the morning, the penthouse was completely quiet. Kill
The Billionaire’s Blood Debt: Ruined by My Enemy Chapter 161: Habibi, Everything Is Legal
Elowen's POVThe brass pen felt freezing against my fingers.The heavy notebook rested on my bare thighs like a slab of stone, its clean, unlined cream pages staring up at me, completely blank. Around my neck, the platinum choker bit cold into my collarbones, heavy as an anchor.I looked up at Killian.He stood three feet from the edge of the mattress, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets, the collar of his white shirt open. The amber glow of the bedside lamp carved sharp hollows beneath his cheekbones. His expression was impossible to read—steady, calm, and terrifyingly patient.My mind raced through every possible angle.What kind of game is this?Was it a test? A trap designed to give his lawyers ammunition? Or was he genuinely standing there, daring me to commit mutiny to paper?I swallowed the dry lump in my throat, closed the notebook with a dull slap, and set it on the nightstand beside the pen."This is ridiculous, Killian," I said, keeping my voice as flat as I could
The Billionaire’s Blood Debt: Ruined by My Enemy Chapter 160: Make a List
Elowen's POVThe glare from the ceiling fixture showed every inch of the room with painful clarity.I was still on the floor, the hard floorboards digging straight into the bone of my knees. My fingers were clamped so tight around the green leather box that my knuckles were stark white. My ribs seized up, each breath catching in my throat until the air felt thick enough to choke on.Killian didn't reach down to yank me up. He didn't slam the open panel in the wainscoting.He took his time, walking around the desk with the slow, relaxed pace of a man checking the mail. The smell of cold terrace air and night rain still clung to the fabric of his shirt."Stand up, Elowen," he said.The command was quiet, almost pleasant, which only made my pulse hammer harder against my eardrums.I pushed myself off the floor, my bare feet
The Billionaire’s Blood Debt: Ruined by My Enemy Chapter 159: Looking for Something?
Elowen's POVThe penthouse was pitch-black when the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed midnight.I stayed on the edge of the mattress, my boots already kicked off, listening to the silence. Killian hadn't come to bed. He was down at the far end of the hall, locked inside his private study behind a door that had stayed shut for four hours.Temitope’s warning kept beating against my skull. Find the safe.I stood up. I didn't turn on a lamp, and I didn't check my phone. Barefoot, I slipped out into the long, dark corridor.The apartment was freezing. The heat had clicked off an hour ago, leaving the floorboards cold against the soles of my feet. I moved with my back pressed to the wall, taking each step with agonizing slowness, avoiding the spots near the moldings where the hardwood tended to creak.Near the end of the hall, a thin blade of amber light sliced across the dark runner.The study door was cracked open an inch.I froze two feet from the frame, pulling my breath so deep int
The Billionaire’s Blood Debt: Ruined by My Enemy Chapter 158: The Price of an Exit
Elowen's POVBy Monday morning, the antique sapphires were gone from the marble vanity.Killian hadn't left them behind as a bitter reminder, and he hadn't thrown the dark green velvet box into the trash. He had simply retrieved them in the middle of the night while I lay awake in the dark, erasing every physical trace of his surrender as if it had never happened.When I stepped out of the dressing room in a heavy charcoal sweater and dark wool trousers, Killian was standing by the bedroom doorway.He was dressed in an immaculate three-piece suit, his heavy cashmere overcoat folded neatly over one arm, fastening the leather band of his watch with slow, mechanical precision. His dark hair was brushed straight back from his forehead, his jaw shaved clean, the silver-blue of his eyes completely impenetrable.He didn't ask how I had slept. He didn't look at the empty ring of light on the marble where his grandmother’s choker had rested twelve hours earlier."I have meetings downtown until
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Elowen's POVThe silence of Eighty-Eight was waiting for me like an open vault.I stepped out of the private elevator at ten, my boots damp from the slush on Perry Street, making no sound against the thick runner in the foyer. Down in the Village, the tavern had smelled of melted butter, charred wood, and dry red wine. Up here, eighty floors above the pavement, the air smelled of nothing at all—just the faint, sterile hum of filtered vents circulating cold drafts against the high glass.Inside the silk lining of my coat, the folded carbon copy of the retainer agreement I had signed in Temitope’s office earlier that afternoon pressed stiff against my ribs.A fifty-thousand-dollar promise to wage war.I didn't turn on the sconces. I slipped off my coat in the dark, hung it beside Killian’s heavy cashmere overcoat, and walked into the master dressing room on bare feet. Behind the third row of hanging garments, tucked into the cedar paneling, was the small personal lockbox my father had g
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