All Chapters of Owned by Billionaire: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

The morning after the explosion came with a stillness that felt surreal. The world hadn’t stopped for them — the sun still rose, the city still moved, unaware that a war had just reached its boiling point.Elena stood beside Killian’s bed, watching the slow, steady rhythm of his chest. Machines hummed around them, monitors blinking soft signals of life. He was still unconscious, recovering from the surgery. But alive.And that was all she needed to keep going.“You always wanted control,” she whispered, brushing her fingers across his knuckles. “But you never realized how much of it you gave me the moment you let yourself fall in love.”He didn’t answer — couldn’t — but there was a softness to his expression in sleep, as though his body, despite the trauma, recognized her voice. Trusted her presence.Behind her, the door creaked open.Dante stepped in quietly, a man carved from war and guilt. His eyes landed on Killian, then Elena, and for once, he didn’t have anything cynical to say.

The gunshot still echoed in Elena’s ears long after the room had gone silent.Victor Morelli slumped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, the sneer on his face frozen mid-sentence. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and viscous, soaking into the pristine carpet of his self-made kingdom.Elena didn’t move.Her arm, extended and steady just moments ago, now trembled slightly as the weight of what she’d done began to settle into her bones. Her breathing was shallow, too fast, her vision swaying slightly. But she kept her eyes locked on Victor’s lifeless body, waiting for some sign that this wasn’t real. That somehow, like all the other times, he would rise again with that twisted grin and another cruel word on his tongue.But he didn’t.This time, he stayed down.Behind her, Dante was still. Reid lowered his weapon slowly, eyes scanning the room like he didn’t believe it either.“It’s done,” she said at last, her voice quiet, too calm for what had just occurred. “He’s dead.”

The fire lit the sky like a dying god’s last scream.Elena stood at the edge of the road, her fingers laced tightly with Killian’s, watching the estate collapse into itself. Flames licked at the windows, swallowing the opulence, the corruption, the memories. What once was the seat of Victor’s power now crumbled into a pyre of guilt and retribution.And Elena didn’t flinch.She felt it—the weight of what she’d done—but it didn’t crush her. It settled into her bones like truth. Heavy, but necessary.Killian’s thumb rubbed slow circles against the back of her hand. He hadn’t spoken in the last five minutes, but his silence wasn’t cold. It was reverent. As if he understood she needed the quiet, the stillness to say goodbye in her own way.Finally, Elena turned away.“Let’s go.”He gave her a nod and led her to the car. The door shut with a quiet finality, muffling the distant roar of the fire. She leaned her head against the window, watching the last hints of red and orange disappear behi

The early morning sky hovered between dark and dawn—the kind of quiet that the world holds when it’s between endings and beginnings. Elena stood at the edge of Greenwood Cemetery, clutching a single white lily in her gloved hand. The wind carried the scent of earth and mourning, but also hope.She wasn’t sure what she expected to find here. Closure? Peace? Maybe something that resembled forgiveness. But all she felt was a raw kind of significance: she had returned to the place where her story had lost its innocence.Ahead of her, the granite marker carved “Margaret Romano” caught the dim light. Beneath it were dates—1970 to 2005—her mother’s life, a lifetime ended far too soon. Elena knelt, gently placing the lily beside the headstone. The leather folders she kept in her coat pocket—documents, letters, the things she had uncovered about Margaret’s life—rested against her side like a burden she was finally ready to set down.“Hey,” came a soft voice behind her.Elena looked up to see K

The first snowfall of winter dusted the sidewalks of Manhattan like a delicate sigh, soft and clean, as if the city itself had decided to forgive. Elena stood in the front courtyard of the Romano-Graves Initiative, watching children laugh and chase snowflakes in the garden her mother had once dreamed of.It was quiet.Not the suffocating silence of fear or the thick hush of grief—but the kind of quiet that came after the final page of a book. The kind that made you close your eyes and breathe. Finally.“Thought I’d find you here,” Killian’s voice called gently behind her.She turned, her scarf fluttering in the breeze. “Where else would I be?”He walked toward her with his hands in his coat pockets, the corners of his mouth twitching up in that familiar, barely-there smirk that used to drive her mad. Now it was home.“You’ve been out here for an hour,” he murmured, brushing a snowflake from her shoulder. “You okay?”Elena hesitated. “I think so.”That was the thing no one told you abo