All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S RELUCTANT WIFE : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

THEY TOLD ME NOT TO...Obetta sat in her room, the velvet curtains drawn tightly to shut out the morning light. Her phone lay face down on the dresser beside her half-empty glass of wine, untouched since last night. She hadn’t slept, her mind turning over and over the strange events of the past few days. Something wasn’t right.For weeks, her plans had been unfolding with sharp precision. Every connection she’d cultivated, every whisper of gossip, every skeleton she had dug out of closets all of it had placed her ahead of Abigail, ahead of Maya, ahead of anyone who dared to stand in her way. She had built a careful web, and she was confident it would snare all her prey.But now… her web was unraveling.She leaned back in her chair and pulled her robe tighter around her. On the small table near her bed lay a stack of papers, files that had once brimmed with leverage background checks, financial slips, photographs taken in s

The night had passed like a slow tide retreating from the shore. Abigail lay awake long after Luke had drifted into his usual untroubled sleep. She watched the faint rise and fall of his chest, the calm in his features, the kind of calm that came only from a man who believed he was in control of everything around him. And maybe he was. But Abigail wasn’t. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the high ceiling, her thoughts tangled. Obetta’s face from earlier the twisted frustration, the sharp anger that had seemed to quake beneath her skin refused to leave her. For so long, Obetta had moved with untouchable confidence, with the assurance of a woman who believed the world owed her its bow. To see her shaken, unsteady, and ignored… it unsettled Abigail more than it pleased her. Because Maya had been right. A woman like Obetta cornered was not a woman who surrendered. She was a woman who would claw her way ou

Obetta woke with the bitter taste of last night still in her mouth. The sound of the man’s voice replayed in her mind the one she had sent to rattle Abigail. She had expected reports of Abigail shrinking, of her breaking down under the weight of fear. Instead, she had heard only the opposite.“She told me,” the man had said on the phone, voice uncertain, “that she doesn’t scare easily.”That sentence haunted her. It was supposed to be Abigail’s undoing, but it had turned into her declaration of strength.Obetta rose from bed, her robe dragging along the floor as she crossed to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, flawless and beautiful, but the storm in her eyes betrayed the turmoil. “No,” she whispered. “She won’t win. She can’t.”She dressed quickly, choosing her most commanding outfit sleek black dress, sharp heels, diamond earrings that glittered like shards of ice. Today, she would n

I KNOW MY WORLD..The estate had returned to its usual quiet rhythm after Kate’s family gathering, but the echoes of that event still lingered in Abigail’s mind. For days she could not forget the curious stares, the whispered comments, the mixture of admiration and judgment that came with being introduced, in full, as Luke Vandell’s wife. She had felt both small and powerful at once small in the presence of centuries-old wealth, power, and expectation, but powerful in the simple fact that she belonged at Luke’s side.Luke had been unusually quiet since then. He didn’t behave coldly, not in the old sense of pushing her away, but rather, he was contemplative, as though watching her every move, analyzing her reactions to his world. Sometimes she would catch him studying her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and his eyes carried something unreadable, something heavy.That morning, she woke alone again. The sheets on his side of the bed were already cold, a sign that he had risen before

OSCAR DIXON... The ballroom glowed under a ceiling of crystal chandeliers, their light scattering like shards of stars across polished marble. The event had been buzzing since its opening, a showcase of wealth, connections, and the subtle games only the powerful played. Men in tailored suits discussed mergers and politics with glasses of wine in hand, while women glittered in sequins and jewels, laughter ringing like silver bells as their eyes watched and weighed one another. Abigail walked at Luke’s side, her posture elegant but composed, every step measured. It had been months of learning how to stand in these rooms, how to answer questions with just enough smile, how to make silence speak louder than words. Tonight, her pale blue dress flowed around her ankles like liquid, and her hair had been swept into a style that framed her face softly. She didn’t look like the girl from a poor background who had first walked into Luke Vandell’s mansion months ago. She looked every inch the w