Lahat ng Kabanata ng Betrayed By My Husband,I Marry His Enemy.: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The driver pulled up to the curb outside a glass building that looked like it had never known dust. Giant block letters read MIDDAY LIVE WITH CHLOE KENT — bold, polished, merciless.I wiped my palms against the soft linen of my cream skirt.“You okay?” Leon asked, voice low and smooth beside me. He looked unfairly calm in that navy suit — the kind of man who could walk into a room and have it kneel.I gave him a thin smile. “Define okay.”He chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Just... breathe.”I turned to him, searching his face for some tell — doubt, maybe. But there was none. Just steady, curious eyes.Then Clara opened the door, her presence like a cold gust of wind. “We’re on a tight clock. Makeup and mic check are ready. Eva, smile — but not too wide. And remember, polished, polite, powerful.”“Nice to see you too, Clara,” I muttered under my breath as I stepped out.Inside, the building buzzed with an unnatural kind of silence — like anticipation was stitched into the walls. A flurry of

The night air was warm but restless, like the city couldn’t sleep either. I stood by the rooftop’s edge, the wind tangling through my hair, the glass of wine in my hand nearly untouched. The skyline stretched before me like a glittering promise, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the storm brewing below it.Daniel’s interview had detonated like a bomb—one I didn’t see coming. Every hour since felt like aftershocks. The media frenzy. The questioning looks from Leon’s staff. The way Clara’s smiles had stiffened into polite silence.I was tired. Tired of defending myself. Tired of pretending I wasn’t unraveling.The door behind me creaked open. I didn’t turn. I didn’t have to. I could feel Leon before I saw him—the subtle shift in the atmosphere, the electric current his presence always stirred.“I figured I’d find you here,” he said, his voice low, unusually quiet. “Couldn’t sleep?”I took a sip of the wine, finally. Dry, sharp. “Shouldn’t you be brooding in your office? That seems to b

The second I saw my face on the front page of that gossip site, I knew the calm was temporary. My phone buzzed nonstop. Calls from reporters, texts from acquaintances pretending to check in—parasitic curiosity masquerading as concern. I shut it off and dropped it onto the marble kitchen counter like it had burned me.Leon didn’t say a word that morning. Instead, he quietly placed a tray in front of me: a toasted croissant, a bowl of sliced strawberries, and a mug of freshly brewed chamomile tea. Not coffee—he remembered."Eat," he said simply, pouring himself an espresso.I looked up at him, confused. "You made this?""Don’t look so surprised."I blinked, still stuck on the image of him personally buttering a croissant. "You have people for this.""I’m aware. Eat."I took a small bite. Flaky. Buttery. Just the right amount of strawberry jam. "Thank you."He nodded, already halfway through checking his tablet. But I caught the quick flicker of something behind his eyes—concern? Guilt?

The wind didn’t let up.I stood there, on the rooftop, my fingers gripping the cold steel of the railing like it could anchor me to reality. Leon’s words hung in the air, too heavy to float away."The same man who’s coming for you now."I turned to him slowly. "Why? Why would someone want my mother dead? Why me?"Leon’s jaw tightened. "Because of who she was. And who you are.""Stop speaking in riddles!" I snapped. My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. "I deserve to know what’s going on. No more secrets."He took a step closer, then another. And for once, he didn’t try to calm me with sweet words or half-answers."You’ll know everything soon," he said. "But tonight, I just want to be with you. Please."I should’ve told him to go to hell. But the storm inside me was too loud to battle alone.---Later, back in the penthouse, the power cut out.One minute the chandeliers were humming with soft golden light, the next, darkness swallowed the room whole.I blinked into the void. "Seriously?

I didn’t know what to feel anymore.Shock, fear, betrayal—they all blurred into a cold, quiet numbness as Leon’s words echoed in my mind: You were the target.The woman I’d spent a decade mourning had survived a hit meant for me.It should’ve been impossible. But with Leon Castello, impossibility felt like a daily occurrence.---The next morning, I woke to the sound of my phone vibrating nonstop. Dozens of missed calls, texts, emails—all screaming the same thing.BREAKING: CASTELLO IMPLICATED IN CORPORATE ESPIONAGE SCANDAL.My heart dropped.I rushed out of bed and into the living room. Leon was already dressed, suited up in dark navy, his tie perfectly knotted like it was just another Tuesday.“What the hell happened?” I asked.He glanced up from his laptop, calm. Too calm. “Daniel leaked internal communications between my team and Valencia Biotech. Claims we hacked their R&D files.”My blood turned to ice. “Did you?”He raised a brow. “No. But he framed it well. Clean metadata, doc