All Chapters of Forced To Be The Billionaire’s Bride: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

Marie's icy division was not limited to the daytime. She became colder in the nights as the days turned into weeks, and the distance between her and Aaron widened and deepened with every hour that went by. He tried to sleep in her room, but he kept doing so. As a silent guardian, he would lie in the big bed and listen to Marie and the baby's gentle sounds. He yearned to touch her, to reassure her, to just hold her hand and let her know he was there. However, Marie would tense up whenever he even moved in her direction. She would slowly move away, drawing herself to the bed's very edge so that they could feel the distance. She would occasionally wake up with a start if he reached out to her while he was sleeping or if he just turned to face her. Even in the darkness of the night, there would be a glimmer of something like discomfort or fear in her eyes. She would then silently exit the bed without saying anything. She would gently remove the infant from his bassinet and hold him cl

The courthouse plaza was a frenzy.News vans clogged the surrounding blocks, camera crews shouted updates into microphones, and flashes lit the air like lightning as Howard Sanchez was led in handcuffs from the courtroom to a waiting armoured van.Despite the bulletproof glass and armed escorts, the media clamoured for a glimpse of him—the billionaire who had confessed to murder.Earlier that day, during the second hearing, the air had shifted.The defence had barely begun their opening strategy when Howard calmly stood up and asked the judge for a moment to speak. Against his attorney's urgent objections, he delivered it anyway:> “I sent Stephen Hart to handle Richard Carter. I won’t insult the court with denials. I’ll face whatever punishment is deemed necessary.”His voice had been chillingly composed.Gasps rippled through the courtroom.Jerome Maddox had slumped into his chair, visibly stunned. The judge froze, the gavel raised mid-motion. The prosecutor, Lucia Benton, looked ca

Two days after Dominic’s uninvited visit, the prosecution’s momentum faltered—just slightly.It began with a phone call to Detective Miller.The paralegal assigned to organize the witness list for Howard’s trial reported something strange: one of their key witnesses—Matthew Rayner, a financial analyst from within Sanchez Group—had suddenly gone silent.No returned emails. No calls. And his legal liaison said he had “withdrawn for personal reasons.”That wasn’t just unusual—it was dangerous.---By noon, Miller and a federal marshal were pounding on Matthew’s apartment door in lower Manhattan.When it opened, the man on the other side looked nothing like the confident, suited analyst they remembered. Matthew Rayner was pale, sweaty, and his eyes flicked nervously down the hallway.“You shouldn’t have come here,” he muttered. “I told them I wasn’t testifying.”Miller stepped forward. “Why, Matthew? You gave a signed affidavit. Your testimony connects the wire transfer from Howard to the

The courtroom was packed.Reporters lined the back wall. Sketch artists moved their pencils with urgency. Every seat was filled by either a member of the press, the legal teams, or the public, many of whom had followed the Sanchez saga from the very beginning.At the front of it all sat Howard Sanchez, motionless in his chair. He was no longer dressed in fine-tailored suits. No Rolex adorned his wrist. The orange prison uniform hung loosely on his once-imposing frame. The courtroom lights seemed harsher on him now, drawing every wrinkle, every dark line under his eyes into sharp relief.He had aged years in weeks.But his expression remained cold. Unapologetic. Unbothered.Aaron sat on the other side of the aisle, beside Detective Miller and the lead prosecutor, Lucia Benton. His heart pounded like a drum against his ribs, but outwardly, he appeared calm. Stoic. Focused.He had come here not to see a man fall.But to witness the system stand.Judge Delacroix entered the courtroom, and

Mr. Finch snapped his briefcase shut with a firm snap reverberating in the stunned drawing-room silence. After giving Aaron and Susann a final empathetic nod and giving Marie one last worried look, he quietly and professionally left, leaving the startling discovery of Richard's stolen legacy in his wake. Slowly, Marie climbed out of the sofa as the front door clicked shut, enclosing them once more in the heavy silence of the mansion. Her eyes remained cold, and her face a flawless, immobile mask. Watching her, Aaron was still in shock over what the lawyer had said. She had erected an impenetrable wall around herself, and he interpreted her silent departure as yet another painful rejection. To close the widening gap between them, he made an effort to speak with her and reach out. “Marie,” he said in a quiet, almost begging voice. “Did you hear what he said? Everything belongs to you. Justice for your father is a good thing, isn't it?” Marie did not stop. She did not even give him