All Chapters of His Enemy, My Husband : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The morning air was still and heavy when Isla stepped out of her car at her parents’ home. She had not slept much the night before, her mind restless and her heart weighed down by the countless thoughts that circled her without mercy. Even as she knocked on the door, she could feel her chest tightening as if the simple act of breathing was a labor.Her mother opened the door first. Behind her, her father stood, his glasses perched low on his nose, his hand resting against the wall as if he had been waiting. The moment her mother’s eyes fell on Isla, they softened, though behind the softness lay a glimmer of worry. Isla did not miss it. She could not. She had been watching that same expression follow her everywhere these past few days.“You’re here,” her mother whispered, as if the silence of the morning should not be disturbed. “Come inside.”Isla stepped in, her hands tightly clasped in front of her, and her eyes immediately found the little figure she had been yearning for. Imani

The walls of the Blackwood Group boardroom gleamed under the noon light, but there was no brightness in the atmosphere. One by one, the executives filed in. Men and women in tailored suits, their polished shoes muted against the marble floor. Some clutched folders heavy with reports, others stared down at their phones where market tickers flashed like alarm bells. Murmurs rose and fell in hushed waves, sharp phrases cutting through the tension: “Shares dipped another two points this morning…” “…press already speculating…” “…if this drags on, investors will panic…” The long table stretched before them like a battlefield. Black leather chairs squeaked as department heads settled in, exchanging wary looks. The air smelled faintly of coffee and nerves. At the far end of the room, a man, dressed in a dark gray suit stood to clear his throat. He was the Chair of the senior director with silver hair slicked neatly back, his voice echoing in the sterile air. “Ladie

The boardroom was already a furnace of whispers and shifting glances when Richard Blackwood’s cane struck the floor. The sound rang through the air like a whip, and every murmured voice died at once.“Nothing—” Richard’s voice thundered, his finger stabbing at the table, “is going to change. Not while my son still breathes!”His anger carried years of command, years of authority no one at that table could deny. For a brief moment, the executives faltered, their gazes darting nervously between him and Alexander.But Alexander only smirked, leaning casually back in Damien’s chair as though it had already molded to his body. His fingers drummed lightly against the desk before he answered in a calm, cutting tone.“The final decision has already been made, Dad. The vote is done. The board recognizes me as interim president. Whether you shout or not, the ink is already drying.”Richard’s hand tightened around his cane, his jaw grinding. His face flushed red with the force of his rage.“You

The first thing that tore Isla from her shallow sleep wasn’t the sunlight or the sound of footsteps outside the hospital door. It was her phone.It buzzed violently on the bedside table, vibrating again and again until it nearly slid off the wood. With a tired groan, she stretched her hand, picked it up, and blinked through the brightness of the screen.And then her heart stopped.Her notifications were endless. Messages, missed calls, and the one thing she dreaded most … social media tags.She clicked one, and a familiar old picture exploded across the screen.It was her and Nate. A photo from years ago, before Imani, back when she had been naive and tangled in the wrong man’s through marriage. Isla froze, her thumb shaking as she scrolled further.Another post. This time, Caden … his hand casually slung over her shoulder back in the university. Her chest tightened. That night had been nothing, yet the picture now painted a thousand ugly lies.And then came the worst of it. Screensh

The days crawled by in an uneasy rhythm. After the fire incident in her mansion, Isla barely left Damien’s side. She slept in the stiff chair beside his hospital bed, her head resting on her arms, jerking awake every time he stirred. Her nerves had not recovered from that night …the sight of smoke curling into the air, her home under siege, her heart pounding with the certainty that she was losing everything again.But life, in its relentless way, pressed forward.On the third morning after the fire, the doctor walked into Damien’s ward with a clipboard in hand. He adjusted his glasses, smiling faintly at Isla, then turned to Damien, who was sitting propped up against the pillows, a shadow of his former commanding presence but alive.“Mr. Blackwood,” the doctor began, “I have reviewed your test results. The worst is behind you. Your vitals are stable, your body is responding to treatment, and you have made remarkable progress in just a few days.”Isla sat straighter, her pulse quick