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Chapter Fifty Two
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2025-11-21 19:54:30
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The Billionaire's Proxy Bride Epilogue
Grief, Lena learned, did not arrive all at once.It came in waves—quiet mornings, empty chairs, voices remembered more clearly than faces.Gregory Hale passed away on a Tuesday, gentle rain tapping against the windows of the private ward. Leukemia had thinned him, hollowed his once-commanding presence, but not his spirit. In his final weeks, he asked for very little. Just Damon. Just Lena.He held their hands—one in each of his frail palms—and smiled, slow and knowing.“You found each other the wrong way,” he told them softly, breath labored but eyes bright. “But sometimes life only reveals truth through chaos.”He blessed them then. Not formally. Not ceremonially. Just a nod, a squeeze, and a whisper that sounded like peace.When he was gone, the house felt different. Quieter. Larger somehow. Damon mourned in silence, Lena beside him, learning that love sometimes meant simply staying when there were no words left to say.Richard Wren in the other hand never made it out. The news came
The Billionaire's Proxy Bride Chapter Eighty Six
They were escorted back the same way they had been led out—except now the path felt narrower, louder, charged.Amara walked slightly ahead, shoulders squared, chin lifted, flanked by two officers whose presence was firm but respectful. Lena followed beside Damon, wrapped briefly in his arms when they crossed the threshold back into the auditorium, her body still trembling as if the cold from the abandoned yard had lodged itself in her bones.The doors opened.And the room erupted.The ruckus hit them like a physical force—voices overlapping, chairs scraping, the brittle sound of disbelief cracking through silk and crystal. It was the same elegant chaos they’d left behind, but transformed now into something raw and uncontained.Gasps rippled outward as they passed.“There’s two of them?”“Nonsense. How could there be two?”“Are they sisters?”“Twins.”The whispers weren’t whispers at all. They chased Amara’s back, clung to Lena’s silhouette, bounced off the chandeliers like echoes refu
The Billionaire's Proxy Bride Chapter Eighty Five
Just then, the sharp, deliberate clink of a spoon against glass cut cleanly through the ballroom’s hum. Conversation stilled. Laughter faded mid-breath. Even the orchestra softened instinctively as all eyes turned toward the source. Gideon Vale was already moving toward the stage. When he reached the podium, he placed one hand lightly on the edge, waited—patient, practiced—until silence settled fully. He cleared his throat. “I, um… wanted to thank everyone for honoring my invitation tonight,” he began, voice smooth but carrying just enough tension beneath it. “And for considering my gala worthy of your time. V. R. S—” Amara’s phone vibrated in her hand. Her breath caught. She glanced down at the screen. It was Richard. Her fingers tightened around the device as she leaned closer to Damon, her lips barely moving. “It’s Richard.” Damon’s jaw clenched instantly. “He’s here?” “I think so,” she murmured. They began to drift sideways, slow and unremarkable, the way people did when
The Billionaire's Proxy Bride Chapter Eighty Four
LaterShe spotted Gideon across the ballroom, half-turned toward a small cluster of patrons, his posture relaxed again, smile carefully measured. They hadn’t spoken since his abrupt departure earlier, and the longer she watched him, the more she felt the window closing. This was it. If she waited any longer, he’d slip away again—into shadow, into control.She smoothed her dress, lifted her chin, and walked over.“Hello,” she said lightly, interrupting their conversation. “I hope I didn’t interrupt?”All three of them turned. Gideon’s eyes flicked to her face, lingering just a second too long before he masked it.“No, not at all,” one of the women said warmly. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, draped in an elegant champagne-colored gown that skimmed her frame effortlessly. The fabric shimmered subtly under the ballroom lights, paired with pearl earrings and a matching bracelet that suggested old money rather than ostentation. Her hair was swept into a neat chignon, silver threaded d
The Billionaire's Proxy Bride Chapter Eighty Three
The Governor’s Ball Lena paused just outside the entrance, the weight of the moment settling into her shoulders. She lifted her phone, the screen already glowing with the email she’d memorized hours ago. At the checkpoint, two uniformed security officers stood beside a sleek podium, scanners in hand, expressions neutral but alert. She presented the phone. One of them leaned closer, reading carefully as his fingers tapped against a tablet. He cross-checked the name, the photograph, the embedded QR code. The other officer glanced from the screen to Lena’s face, then back again, his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary—as though measuring bone structure, posture, confidence. “Identification, please.” She handed over the card Richard had ensured matched every digital record tied to Amara Wren. The officer slid it through the scanner. A soft beep followed. Approval. He nodded, stepping aside. “Welcome, Miss Wren.” The doors opened. Warm light spilled over her, gold an
The Billionaire's Proxy Bride Chapter Eighty Two
Once the doors of the limo swung open, the sight inside hit Lena like a physical blow.She barely had time to register the leather seats, the dim ambient lighting, the expensive stillness of the car before her stomach lurched violently. She doubled over, retching onto the pavement. Fish chips. Acid. Everything she’d eaten. Her body emptied itself in ugly, uncontrollable heaves, her hands braced weakly against the curb.No one rushed to help her.No one apologized.“C’mon,” Richard laughed lightly from inside the car, as if she were being dramatic over spilled wine. “We don’t have all night.”Lena wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand and lifted her head.That was when she really looked.Her vision swam, tears blurring the edges, but the shape was unmistakable. A woman sat inside the limo, spine straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her hair was darker than Lena remembered, styled simply, but the face—God.It was like looking into a distorted mirror. Same bone struct
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