Billionaire's Revenge: The Ex wife's rise のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Nate's POVI'd been working on the case with an almost pathological level of dedication since I'd rescued Jane from that cold, dark warehouse. I'd spent the previous two days retracing the alleys amassing more data, a paper trail of receipts for cash, tips from an anonymous source, and cyber-trails that constructed a scenario much darker than anyone had ever been brave enough to imagine. It was time to show Jane the pieces I’d unearthed, pieces that challenged everything she believed about the accident and Damien’s role in it.I. found Jane. In her hospital room late one evening, the only light was the small bedside lamp. Her haunted eyes moved nervously upon me. I felt the inner turmoil that had so destroyed her, the tormented conflict between the woman she loved and the lie now masquerading behind Damien's familiar face."Jane, I have to talk to you," I whispered, closing the door behind me. "I've got some new information that you'll need to review."Her eyes flashed with fear and c

Michelle's POVI had lived behind the streets of the family's gold-encrusted life, an unobtrusive witness to greed and the power struggle. My name is Michelle Carter, and after having been directly employed by Zack Lawson…period that has given me more scars than memories of love. I would never have suspected that fate would lead me before Jane Harrison, my life destroyed by the very same black lies I had been seeking to flee from for all these years.I answered the phone on my cold autumn afternoon. Jane had called up an old friend—somebody she believed could untangle the complicated web of deceptions that had trapped her family. I had known Zack long enough to realize that my past with him was a double-edged sword; whereas on the one hand, I had witnessed his cruelty, on the other, I had seen the cracks in his together persona. It was time now to encounter Jane at a sleazy coffee shop on the less populated side of town…lair where half-truths and muffled whispers held dominion in the

Jane's POVThe weight of it all…the hidden diaries, the photoshopped images, the incriminating ledgers…pressed upon me like an unremitting tide. At night, late, I sat alone in the quiet of my study, a lone lamp shining in a peaceful light over scraps of paper, my mother's old letters, and my scribbled pages. Every shred of evidence now felt like a piece of a puzzle, every one of them crying out to be fitted into the larger picture of our family's deceit.I ran my fingers along the frayed edges of the leather-bound notebook that I had taken with me since the very start of my investigation. Its pages were a history of every sleepless night, every tearful instant, and every spark of will that had formed in me since truth had begun to break through. Tonight, it was time to write a plan…a secret, bold plan to expose the corruption that had infected my life for far too long. No matter what it took, I vowed that no secret, however shameful, would be hidden any longer.I pulled out my new not

Jane's POV I received the clandestine tip on a cold evening—a cryptic one through an encoded e-mail address, telling me to meet in a deserted site at the city limit. All the message had said was: *"Truth lies where the shadows converge.".". Come alone.* My heart was racing as I hoped that this was the break I had been hoping for—a break to find more damning evidence on Zack, and even perhaps leads on Damien's implication that I could not find since that fateful night. I quickly scrolled through my phone for a last-minute cancellation and drove down a rural road. The city's neon receded fewer behind me as the world gave way to fields and thick groves of trees. I finally found myself standing before a weathered-down farmhouse on the edge of a forest. Its weathered face, cracked in broken windows and blistered paint, seemed to emit a ghostly sense of abandonment—but possibility too. I crept up, the headlights dropped to hide us from view, and pulled out into chill night air. The farm

Jane's POV The charity ball would be a night of hope—a glorious night when lovely smiles and soft music created a place of harmony and kindness. The lovely ballroom, its costly chandeliers and border of champagne glasses, resounded with laughter and soft murmurs. But beneath the glittering surface, I was weighed down by everything I had witnessed, a crushing weight that reduced even the loveliest adornments to secondary for my internal crisis. I arrived at the assignation in a sharp black vehicle, its gleaming surface aglow with city lights as I emerged in a body-clinging gown that did nothing to conceal the tempest brewing inside. I had not arrived to mingle but to belong, to scrape crumbs of truth from a world in which appearances were as deadly as they were radiant. Every one of the courteous smiles I shared with the other guests was an act—a grudging fiction in a space where all was carefully choreographed to offer perfection. I struggled through the throng, scanning the room