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Chapter 65: The Unmapped Variable
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2026-07-15 20:30:27Elowen’s POV
The digital clock on the dark walnut console read 3:52 AM.
For nearly four hours, I had stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass of the East Wing, watching the rain-slicked canyons of Manhattan rotate in a silent, mechanical blur beneath the low clouds.
I had not slept.
My mind spent the dark hours of the morning locked in a silent, circular chase, tracing the two sharp initials
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The Billionaire’s Blood Debt: Ruined by My Enemy Chapter 163: Make Love With Me Tonight
Elowen's POV"Where are you?" Diego asked, his voice steady and grounding over the receiver. "Are you near Tribeca? We can meet at the workshop.""Not the workshop," I said, watching my breath fog in the freezing air of Franklin Street. "Let's go somewhere we can actually sit down. Let's grab something to eat. My treat."A brief pause hung on the line, followed by the faint sound of Diego chuckling. "You don't have to pay for my lunch, Elowen.""I asked you out, so I'm paying," I insisted, a faint, genuine warmth cutting through the chill in my ribs. "Name a place.""There's a quiet grill on West Broadway," he said. "Corner booth, decent soup, and nobody shouting over espresso grinders. Give me ten minutes.""I'll be there."Ten minutes later, I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the restaurant. The dining room was warm, filled with the rich smell of roasted garlic, grilled sourdough, and dark broth. Diego was already sitting in a leather booth near the back, his heavy canvas coat s
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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