The CEO'S SECRET BRIDE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 171 - チャプター 180

Anabelle stood on the balcony of her penthouse in London, the city lights glittering below like scattered diamonds. The cool night air brushed her face as she held a glass of champagne in one hand and a letter in the other. The letter bore a golden seal—The International Design Guild. She had been chosen as Designer of the Year, one of the highest honors in her field.Clara stepped onto the balcony quietly. “You got the confirmation email too?”Anabelle turned with a small smile. “Yes. It’s official.”Clara’s eyes shone. “You deserve it, ma’am. No one’s done what you’ve done in such a short time.”Anabelle looked out again at the skyline. “It still feels unreal. Just last year, we were building one office at a time. Now… the world knows my name.”“It’s not just your name,” Clara said softly. “It’s your mark. Everywhere I go, I see your designs—hotels, galleries, offices. People talk about you like you’re a legend.”Anabelle chuckled faintly. “A legend? I’m just a woman who never stop

Fred sat at his small desk near the window, the evening sun spilling across the wooden surface. The golden light made the dust in the air shimmer, reminding him of the quiet mornings he and Anabelle once shared. He had been staring at his phone for almost an hour, the screen glowing softly, waiting for words that wouldn’t come.He scrolled through social media again. Her face appeared everywhere — magazine covers, award photos, interviews, charity events. The caption on one of the posts read, “Anabelle Grey, redefining modern luxury for the world.”Fred smiled faintly. “You’ve really done it, haven’t you?” he murmured.Still, beneath his smile, there was a strange ache. The woman he had once known — the one who laughed while painting her own furniture, who burned toast every morning — seemed far away now. She lived in glass buildings and flew in private jets. He lived in a quiet suburb, fixing clocks and growing roses in his backyard.He put his phone down and leaned back, rubbing

Carson sat at the back of the courtroom, his fingers pressed tightly together. The air was thick with whispers, the sound of pens scratching, and the faint hum of cameras waiting outside. He could hear reporters calling his name through the glass doors, eager to catch the fallen businessman.The judge’s gavel struck sharply. “Order in the court.”Carson looked up. His once-proud shoulders were slightly bent, and the arrogance that had once filled his face was gone. His suit was neat, but his eyes were tired, rimmed with sleepless nights.The prosecutor stood, his voice firm. “Mr. Carson McCoy, the evidence shows repeated financial manipulation, investor deception, and misuse of company funds. McCoy Industries collapsed because of these actions, leaving hundreds unemployed.”Each word echoed in Carson’s mind. He wanted to interrupt, to explain, but his lawyer leaned closer and whispered, “Stay quiet. It’ll only make things worse.”Carson swallowed hard and nodded. He sat back, staring

The rain had stopped by evening, leaving the London streets glistening under the orange streetlights. Inside her hotel suite, Anabelle sat by the wide window, a cup of warm tea resting on the table beside her laptop. The city stretched far below—busy, bright, and restless. But inside, the room was quiet.Her phone buzzed softly on the table. She glanced at the screen and froze for a moment. The message was from Fred.“I heard you’re in London. Still avoiding dinner with old friends?”A faint smile tugged at her lips. She hadn’t spoken to him properly in months—not since their last short exchange about work. He always knew how to sound casual, even when his words carried a deeper meaning.Her fingers hovered over the screen before she typed back, “Only avoiding bad company. But if you’re offering dinner, maybe I can make an exception.”The reply came within seconds. “Tomorrow. Seven. Same place as before?”Anabelle looked at the message for a long time. She could still remember the sm

The evening sun painted the tall glass windows of Annabelle’s office with soft gold. The city below buzzed with life, but up here on the twenty-third floor, everything was quiet. Her desk was covered with papers, contracts, and congratulatory letters. The latest business magazine with her face on the cover lay open. The headline read, “Annabelle: The Woman Who Redefined Success.”She stared at it for a long time. Her smile on the page looked bright and confident, but it didn’t feel like her anymore.“Miss Hale,” her assistant’s voice broke the silence from the doorway. “The board is ready for your approval on the new proposal.”Annabelle blinked. “Right. Tell them I’ll sign it in the morning.”The assistant nodded and left quietly.When the door closed, Annabelle leaned back in her chair, letting her eyes drift to the skyline. The glass towers glowed against the fading light. She should have felt proud—she had fought hard for this. Every deal, every risk, every sleepless night had le