Semua Bab The CEO’s Vengeful Bride: Bab 101 - Bab 110

The grand glass doors of the Montrose headquarters slide open with a resounding hiss, and I walked into the boardroom beside Damien, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. It felt like a lifetime ago that I had stood here, unsure of my place, unsure of what I was even capable of. But today was different. Today, the empire was mine……not by birthright, but by force. By strategy. By battle. Damien’s hand brushed mine briefly, a silent gesture of support. I didn’t look at him……he knew better than to expect any more than that. We were a unit now, not just in name, but in power. Every move we made together, every decision, we made it as one. As I stepped toward the long table where the board members sat, I felt the weight of a thousand eyes on me. Some were respectful, some skeptical, and others…..well, they were waiting for me to stumble. They would not be disappointed. I reached the head of the table, and Damien stood beside me. I surveyed the room, allowing the silence to

I stood in front of the Montrose estate for the first time in years. The wrought-iron gates were as imposing as I remembered…..beautiful, cold, and designed to keep people out more than they ever welcomed them in. The intercom crackled. “State your name.” “Elena Montrose,” I said before I could stop myself. A beat of silence. Then the gates hissed open. I walked through slowly, my heels crunching against gravel, my breath tight in my chest. I had prepared for this…….for the confrontation, for his scorn…..but not for the sudden rush of memories that hit as I passed through the same gardens where I’d once chased butterflies with a nanny who never made eye contact. The manor loomed ahead, pristine and cold as ever. No warmth, no sign of family. Just money in stone form. The butler, Wilson, opened the door and gave a subtle nod. “He’s in the study, Miss Montrose…..” He stopped himself. “Miss Crest.” I didn’t flinch. I was used to people shifting allegiances like furniture in a storm

The morning air was heavy with anticipation, the kind that settled deep in the bones. Damien Crest stood in his private office, staring down at the manila envelope laid carefully on his glass desk. No markings. No return address. Just his name printed in block letters across the center. Not “CEO”. Not “Mr. Crest”. Just “Damien”. That alone set off alarms. He’d dealt with enough covert messages, veiled threats, and miss directions in the past six months to know this wasn’t a coincidence. And with Viper’s name still echoing in the corridors of their empire, nothing could be taken at face value anymore. He tore the envelope open. Inside was a single USB drive and a folded piece of thick paper. The header at the top was unmistakable…… Swiss National Bank. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the document.Account #: VX-98224-AV Holder: Unregistered Trust Linked Alias: Viper Holdings International Recent Activity: Active. Last Withdrawal: 48 hours ago. Withdrawal Officer of Record: E

The boardroom buzzed with a new kind of electricity…..not the frenzy of a scandal, nor the tension of a hostile takeover, but the aftermath of a crisis teetering on the edge of control. In the absence of Elena and Damien, it was Isabelle who took the reins.She stood at the head of the glass conference table, her tablet in one hand, a pen in the other, posture rigid but voice steady. "We are not collapsing. We are recalibrating."The room of senior executives blinked at her…..most had overlooked her for years. Just the assistant. The background girl. Damien Crest's ex. Elena Montrose's personal aide. But today, she was the anchor in the storm."Our statements to the press have been updated to reflect the truth….the fire was an act of sabotage, and the investigation is ongoing," she continued. "Legal has vetted every line. There will be no more missteps."An older man across the table, Gregson from Finance, cleared his throat. "You're not the CEO, Miss Lin.""No," she replied, her eyes

Elena’ POVThe dress was unrecognizable, on purpose.A sleek, backless silhouette in midnight blue clung to my body like a second skin. My hair….normally pinned and poised….fell in soft, dyed auburn waves around my face. My voice was disguised beneath a faint European accent, perfected over hours with Isabella’s help. And the glittering, black lace mask over my eyes? That was the finishing touch.This wasn’t Elena Ravenswood, co-CEO of Crest Tech, queen of boardrooms and front-page scandals.This was someone else entirely.I checked my reflection one last time in the rearview mirror of the rented black Maserati and exhaled.“I don’t like this,” Damien’s voice said through the comms in my ear, tight and low. “You’re walking into a lion’s den without backup”.“I’m not without backup,” I whispered, pressing the small transmitter beneath my collarbone. “You’re listening. You have eyes. And if anything goes wrong, you know where to send hell”.“That’s not the point”.“Then what is?”A beat