All Chapters of Married To The Disabled CEO : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The grand ballroom of the historic European Heritage Estate glittered under the illumination of three massive crystal chandeliers, casting a brilliant, amber glow over polished marble floors and velvet drapery. Tonight, Lady Vivian was hosting an ultra-exclusive charity masquerade ball—an elite gathering designed specifically to assemble international royals, tech titans, and billionaires from across the globe. It was a meticulously staged display of old-world power and untouchable social dominance. At the center of the room, dressed in an extravagant, gold-embroidered Venetian gown and a feather-accented mask that concealed the upper half of her face, Lady Vivian held court among a circle of prominent European investors. Her calculated smile radiated triumph. Every detail of the evening had been engineered to re-establish her supremacy. The invitations had been dispatched across the global elite network with razor-sharp precision. Ethan Johnson had received a bespoke, embossed summ

The string quartet inside the grand ballroom played a lively, elegant waltz, but the atmosphere among the international elites was thick with gossip. Whispers rippled through the glittering crowd as guests speculated about Ethan and Lady Vivian's sudden, simultaneous disappearance into the private corridor. Standing near the edge of the polished marble dance floor, Dr. Edna Carlson calmly sipped a glass of sparkling mineral water, her dark eyes shimmering with cool, intellectual amusement. She didn't need to guess what was happening down the hall; she knew the exact telemetry of her husband's security countermeasures. A moment later, the heavy double doors swung open. Ethan walked back into the ballroom with slow, unhurried steps. His posture was relaxed, his midnight-black tuxedo immaculate, and a faint, sardonic smirk played on the corners of his lips. He walked straight toward Emma, offering his hand. She took it effortlessly, stepping into his arms as they resumed their place on

## Chapter 96: The Midnight Intruder The clock on the digital wall display of the Johnson Group’s subterranean research complex ticked past 2:15 a.m. The sprawling, high-security facility was usually a sanctuary of pristine stainless steel, glowing holographic terminals, and quiet, sterile brilliance. Tonight, however, it was pitch black, save for the faint, rhythmic pulse of emergency perimeter lights. A shadow slipped silently through the service corridors, hugging the corners of the reinforced steel walls. It was Vera. Dressed in a dark, hooded maintenance uniform that hung loosely over her frame, her heart hammered frantically against her ribs. In her right hand, she clutched the hermetically sealed metallic cylinder containing Lady Vivian’s deadly neuro-toxin. In her left hand, she gripped a high-tech cloning keycard—a bootlegged bypass device she had acquired through Vivian’s underground black-market contacts at an exorbitant price. Vera’s breath came in ragged, shallow gasp

The heavy steel doors of the federal precinct holding facility slammed shut with a chilling, echoing thud. The harsh fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile, unrelenting glare over the gray concrete walls. Seated on a bolted metal bench inside the processing holding cell was Vera. The high-society luxury and designer wardrobe she once clung to like a protective armor were completely gone, replaced by a coarse, oversized orange jumpsuit. Her hair hung in limp, unwashed strands around her face, and her hands—still faintly stained with the unmistakable, brilliant crimson of Emma’s fluorescent indicator dye—shook uncontrollably as she pressed her fingers against her temples. The legal charges stacked against her were staggering: breaking and entering into a classified federal research facility, industrial espionage, possession of restricted biochemical agents, and attempted murder. With the unshakeable digital evidence provided by the Johnson Group’s surveillance matrices

The financial news networks were a feeding frenzy. Throughout the week, aggressive financial commentators and paid industry analysts flooded television screens with grim projections regarding the Johnson Group’s flagship medical division. Giant bold banners flashed across morning programs: SUPPLY CHAIN COLLAPSE: JOHNSON GROUP FACES MULTI-BILLION-DOLLAR SHORTAGE!, and IS THE MIRACLE DRUG LINE DEAD? VANCE-MONTCLAIR’S STAGGERING MONOPOLY STRIKES BACK! The artificial shortage orchestrated by Lady Vivian through her covert shell companies had successfully triggered panic across secondary markets. Wall Street short-sellers anticipated a massive earnings miss, and nervous institutional investors began whispering about an impending corporate disaster that would permanently dent Ethan’s invincible track record. Inside the subterranean executive suite of the Johnson Group headquarters, however, the atmosphere was a masterclass in absolute calm. Marcus stood by the main panoramic terminal, wa