All Chapters of KISS OF HIS BETRAYAL: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Jenny’s tone sharpened as she leaned in.“Now brace yourself, Shifu… for Ryan and Amara.”Naina’s eyes gleamed with contempt.“They’re the archetype of spoiled heirs in a fractured dynasty. Damon wasn’t lying — Amara is his half‑sister. And except for Ryan, every other member of the Williams family despises Damon. They’d never miss a chance to conspire against him. It’s a nest of vipers — power‑hungry, money‑minded imbeciles, brutalizing one another for inheritance and control. The older generation and the younger alike. No loyalty, only greed.”She paused, then dissected the family politics with surgical precision.“Ryan is the youngest of them all, even younger than Amara. His father married beneath the family’s expectations — a doctor from Trinity Health Care Group, where he himself was Managing Director. That marriage was seen as a scandal in their circles. His mother clawed her way into acceptance, conniving, currying favor, and pushing Ryan into Damon’s orbit. Damon was the blac

“Jenna, what are you up to… you’re scaring me,” Davina muttered, her eyes narrowing as she studied Jenny’s bizarre disguise. “At least tell me where you’re going looking like that. I mean, I get the blonde wig — you want to hide your identity — but black skin? Really? And you haven’t even covered it properly, there’s a patch of your natural fair skin showing. And those weird glasses… plus the two fake teeth? Girl, you look shabby.” Davina’s face twisted in disgust, Naina burst into laughter, while Jenny gasped theatrically, clutching her chest as if mortally offended. “Let’s just say I love my bestie too much,” Jenny sneered, her smirk plastered across her face while Naina helped her cover her skin fully with makeup. “So I’m going on a mission. I’ll be a waitress at a high‑society party. I’m already late. This look? It’s camouflage. No one will pay me any attention. And these glasses? Not just glasses — with them, I can control everything. You’ll see. Just wait and watch.” Davina

Davina paced the length of her study, the documents spread across the desk like a battlefield. Her fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages again and again, searching desperately for a loophole. But every clause, every sub‑section, every notarized seal mocked her. Damon had been meticulous.Her voice cracked in frustration.“Damn you, Damon… you’ve cornered me.”The Share Transfer Agreement was airtight. The Articles of Association had been amended, the Registrar of Companies filings already updated. The escrow account showed cleared transactions, and the board resolutions were stamped with unanimous approval. The legal designation was clear: Shefali Damon Knight — Party A.Not just Shefali. Not Davina Parker. But Mrs. Knight.Her stomach churned. To reclaim her parents’ empire — the companies, the assets in Mumbai, London, and New York — she would have to prove she was Damon’s wife. The thought made her skin crawl.She slammed the papers down, her voice rising in fury.“He’s

The Knight Mansion was no longer a home; it had transformed into a stage. Chandeliers blazed like fire, scattering fractured light across polished marble floors. The banquet hall gleamed in opulence — velvet drapes cascading like rivers of blood, gilded mirrors reflecting fractured truths, and arrangements of white lilies masking the stench of schemes. Servants moved briskly, adjusting silverware, pouring wine, rehearsing perfection as if the night itself demanded flawlessness.Guests began to arrive, their laughter echoing through the corridors, unaware they were stepping into Damon’s carefully laid trap. Family members, business partners, old allies — all summoned under the guise of celebration. Yet beneath the glittering surface, tension pulsed like a hidden current, ready to erupt.From the balcony above, Damon watched, his silhouette sharp against the glow. Every detail was deliberate: the timing, the guest list, the decorations. This wasn’t a welcome‑home party. In a way, it was

Jenny moved like a shadow through the grand hall, her disguise intact, her posture timid, her eyes sharp. Every step was calculated, every glance rehearsed. She had learned to invade spaces without being noticed, to slip past prying eyes and vanish into corners where no one thought to look. Tonight, the Knight Mansion was a stage, and she was both actor and director.She pressed her fingers lightly against the thick frames of her glasses. To the guests, they looked clumsy, unfashionable, a mark of her supposed awkwardness. But inside the lenses, encrypted overlays flickered to life. The AI‑integrated system hummed silently — a secure channel opened, and she whispered into the hidden mic.“Naina, listen. You got the images of Damon and Annaida, right? The plan up until now is set in motion. But I’m nervous about the next part… for so many reasons.”Naina’s voice came through, steady, reassuring, carried by bone‑conducted audio that no one else could hear.“Relax, Jenny. It will be fine