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Chapter Ninety-seven

Author: Lily Grayson
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-08-04 17:56:38

Sophie POV

The city courthouse loomed, not as a symbol of justice, but as a monolith of impending verdict. Its cold, grey stone seemed to absorb the weak autumn sunlight, casting long, accusing shadows across the plaza. Inside, the air hummed with a low thrum of suppressed tension, the rustle of starched suits, the muted coughs, the sterile scent of floor polish and anxiety. My own heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped behind the cage of my carefully chosen navy suit, armor for a battle already won, yet one that felt terrifyingly fragile until the final word was spoken.

Lila sat between Damien and me on the unforgiving wooden bench, her small frame rigid. She wasn’t clinging, not outwardly. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, clad in the soft, powder-blue dress she’d chosen herself, a deliberate choice for "the important day." But the tension radiating from her was palpable. It vibrated through the slight pressure of her thigh against mine, in the unnatural still
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  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter one hundred and four

    Sophie’s POV ** The Art Show** Lila’s art show was supposed to be safe. That was the promise I’d whispered against her temple this morning as I braided her hair, copper strands slipping through my fingers like liquid fire. The same promise Damien had sealed with a kiss to her forehead before handing her the tiny gold locket with a panic button hidden inside. “Just in case,” he’d murmured. But there were no cases today. Not at the Whitmore Gallery, with its twelve armed guards (discreet), its bomb-sniffing dogs (adorable but lethal), and its state-of-the-art security system (designed by Damien himself). Not for our daughter’s first solo exhibition. Not when the walls were lined with her paintings, vibrant explosions of color that told stories of dragons and brave knights and little girls who weren’t afraid of the dark anymore. I adjusted the emerald silk of my dress and forced a smile as Mrs. Whitmore gushed about Lila’s “extraordinary talent” and “vision we

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    Sophie’s POV ** The Gala** The Grand Ballroom of the Montclair Hotel shimmered like a gilded cage. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the vaulted ceiling, scattering fractured light across the sea of designer gowns and tailored tuxedos. The air smelled of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint metallic tang of hidden weapons. Damien had insisted on three extra security sweeps before we’d even left our home. I adjusted the emerald pendant at my throat, Damien’s birthday gift last year, chosen to match my eyes, he’d said and scanned the room. Lila was across the ballroom, surrounded by a flock of girls her age, her copper curls pinned up in an elegant twist that made her look far older than twelve. She wore the sapphire dress we’d picked out together, the one that brought out the blue in her eyes. She was laughing at something, her head thrown back, utterly unaware of the two plainclothes guards circling like sharks just beyond her periphery. Alexander, tha

  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter one hundred and two

    Sophie's POV **Dawn** The scream of my phone tore through the fragile peace of morning like a gunshot. I jolted upright in bed, heart hammering against my ribs, fingers scrambling for the device on my nightstand. The screen glared 5:47 AM in harsh white numbers. Beside me, Damien was already awake, had he ever slept? - his body coiled tight as a spring beneath the sheets, his knife glinting in the weak light where it lay beneath his pillow. "John," I answered, my voice rough with sleep and something darker. "Mrs. Blackstone." John's usually steady baritone wavered. "You need to come to the east wing. Now. It's... it's Lila's mural." The blood in my veins turned to ice. Damien was moving before I'd even hung up, his bare feet hitting the floor with the quiet precision of a predator. I watched his back muscles ripple as he pulled on a black t-shirt, the scars there - old, silvery reminders of childhood punishments - standing out starkly in the dim light. "

  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter one hundred and one

    Sophie’s POV ** The Envelope** The morning smelled like rain. I stood at the kitchen window of Dunhaven Hall, watching the first drops patter against the glass, blurring the emerald expanse of the valley beyond. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon, Lila’s failed attempt at birthday pancakes, lingered in the air. Behind me, Damien’s low voice murmured to Alexander, our four-year-old, who was insisting that no, dragons could exist if scientists just looked harder. Then the mail arrived. John carried it in on a silver tray, his usual stoicism edged with something sharper. His knuckles were white around the handle. "Mr. Blackstone," he said, voice clipped. Damien glanced up, mid-sentence, his fingers still curled around Alexander’s tiny wrist where he’d been playfully measuring his pulse. The moment he saw the envelope, his entire body went still. Too still.I knew that stillness. It wasn’t calm. It was the quiet before the storm, the breath before the

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  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter Ninety-nine

    Sophie POVThe city skyline, once a glittering tapestry of ambition and power, now felt confining. From the penthouse’s dizzying height, the bustling streets below seemed less vibrant arteries and more frantic ants scurrying under glass. The peace we’d fought so hard for, the warm, safe bubble we’d created after the shadows receded, had begun to feel… insulated. Protected, yes, but perhaps too separate from the echoes of the pain we understood all too well. Lila’s nightmares had faded, replaced by the vibrant hum of her creativity and the excited chatter about the baby growing within me. Damien’s smiles came easier, the glacial intensity replaced by a profound, settled warmth. Yet, a quiet restlessness had taken root in him, a familiar energy seeking a new channel.It started subtly. Brochures left open on his study desk, not for corporate acquisitions or luxury penthouses, but for sprawling countryside estates. Maps with circles drawn around areas beyond the city limits. Quiet conver

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