All Chapters of The CEO’s Vengeful Bride: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The room was suffocating. Not because of its size, but because of the weight of what was about to be revealed. The thick silence inside the Montrose estate's grand hall could’ve shattered glass. Seated at the long polished table were the key players in a war neither Elena nor Damien had asked for but could no longer avoid. Elena sat with her spine taut, her hands clasped in her lap. Damien sat beside her, expression unreadable, while Sierra lounged at the opposite end, all ice and arrogance. Lawyers flanked them all, a small army of legal firepower awaiting a single envelope. The envelope in question sat unopened on the velvet surface before them. White. Crisp. Menacing. Damien reached for Elena's hand under the table. She didn’t look at him, but her fingers gripped his hard, as though anchoring herself to the only thing that still felt real. The Montrose family lawyer, Mr. Halverson, cleared his throat. “The results have arrived. With your permission…” Elena gave a small nod. Sie

Elena,The letter came at dawn. Delivered by courier. Embossed with the Montrose seal that once symbolized power. Now, it felt like a bullet. I tore it open with shaking fingers.Injunction Request: Immediate Freezing of All Montrose Accounts Pending Legal Succession Hearing. I reread it. Then again. Until the words blurred and the paper crumpled in my grip. They froze everything. Every operating account. Every personal asset tied to Montrose Holdings. Which meant….. “Payroll,” I whispered. “Charities. My team…” I was locked out. Like a thief in my own empire. My phone rang. I didn’t need to look to know it was Damien. “Elena,” he said immediately. “I saw the notice. It’s already hit the wire services.” “She froze me out,” I said, voice flat. “I can’t even access my expense card.” “They moved fast,” he muttered. “This wasn’t spontaneous. She had this planned before the DNA results were even read.” “She knew,” I said coldly. “She knew exactly what that press conference woul

Damien:The Crest Holdings boardroom had never felt hostile before. But today, it was war.The tension was knife-sharp, every executive in their tailored suits postured like vultures waiting for a wounded animal to drop.And right now, ‘I’ was the one bleeding.“Let’s call this what it is,” snapped Gerald Kim, the CFO. “You let a personal liability embed herself into our operations, and now that liability is hemorrhaging our reputation.”“Elena Montrose isn’t just—”“She’s not your wife,” someone cut in. “She’s not an executive. She’s a crisis.”“Gentlemen,” I said, trying to control the seethe in my voice, “Crest wouldn’t have survived the last six months without her. If you think I’m going to stab her in the back to save face, then…..”“We think,” said Gerald coolly, “that your judgment is compromised.”Another board member, Marcy Tran, folded her arms. “Your relationship with Elena has crossed into conflict-of-interest territory. You’re emotionally entangled in a corporate war. If t

Elena: The press was still buzzing when I entered the private suite on the twentieth floor of Crest’s media tower. Damien had cleared the floor for security. No cameras. No microphones. Just me and her.Sierra stood by the window, city lights casting her in a surreal glow. The same face as mine reflected back in a different life.I shut the door behind me.“We need to talk.”She didn’t turn. “So talk.”I stepped forward, heels echoing on marble, every word I rehearsed tangled with emotion.“I’m not here to fight anymore. I’m tired, Sierra. And I think you are too.”Now she turned.Not with warmth. Not with surprise.But with boredom.“You're here to surrender?” she asked coolly. “How noble.”“No. I’m here to make a pact.”I laid it out simply.“We split the Montrose assets. Cleanly. I retain Crest and the subsidiaries I rebuilt. You take Montrose Media and the holdings untouched by my hand. We draft the legal agreement and announce it publicly. Two sisters put an end to a bitter feud.

Elena:I was in the middle of a tense strategy call when Damien burst into the room.His face was pale. His phone was clenched in his hand.“Elena,” he said, voice tight. “It’s Isabelle. She’s missing.”The world around me dissolved.“What do you mean, missing?”“She was on her way home from the children’s hospital gala. Her car was hijacked two blocks from the turnpike. Her driver was found unconscious. She’s gone.”I didn’t hear the rest. My legs went numb. My lungs refused air.Then my phone buzzed:No caller ID.One queen must fall.Attached is a photo.Isabelle—tied to a chair, her mouth duct-taped, terror in her eyes.My heart stopped.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hours LaterThe room was full; Damien, Luca, Damien’s head of security, and three cybercrime agents. The photo had been analyzed, the message traced, and the location scrambled beyond recovery.And still, all I could see was her face.Sierra