All Chapters of The Billionaire's Dirty Secrets: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

CHAPTER 21 - THE LETTERCalla’s POVThe room they gave me wasn’t a room. It was a dream, or a very beautiful trap.After the crushing silence of the car ride and the electric horror of Dominic’s visit, a stern-faced woman named Anya had led me up a sweeping staircase and down a hushed hallway. She opened a door, handed me a keycard, and said, “Everything you require is inside. Mr. Vexley will expect you for dinner at eight.”Then she left me alone.I stood on the threshold, my small bag of hospital belongings feeling absurd in my hands. The space was larger than my small room I had while working at the Vexley mansion. The walls were the soft grey of dove feathers, the carpet a plush cream that swallowed sound. A wall of arched windows, now shuttered by automated blackout blinds, looked out over a hidden garden. A sitting area held a sofa and chairs in silvery blue linen. And the bed—a vast, pillared monument—was draped in a duvet the color of storm clouds.It was the kind of room yo

CHAPTER 23 - The Murder Ronan’s POVThe photo was a declaration of war.The black rose. The lighter. Left in the heart of my fortress, in the room I had declared sacrosanct. It wasn’t just a threat. It was a message written in a language I knew too well: We can touch what is yours. Anywhere. Anytime.The cold fury that replaced the initial shock was absolute. It was a clean, sharp tool.I didn’t say a word to Calla. I took her arm—not roughly, but with an unbreakable finality—and guided her back inside, off the wind-whipped rooftop. Her face was bone-white, her eyes huge. She’d seen the photo. She understood.The silent, efficient host took one look at my face and didn’t offer a farewell. The elevator descended in a hum of tension. In the car, I sent a single message to Beck:>Lockdown. Initiate Protocol Zero. Full forensic sweep. No one enters or leaves. I am en route.

CHAPTER 25 - The New PetCalla’s POVThe world after the rooftop was a different color. The sky seemed sharper, the air thinner, as if the jump had broken a seal on reality itself.We didn’t go back to the mansion. The police presence, the lingering aura of Maria’s death, the media vultures circling the gates—it was no longer a fortress. It was a gilded crime scene.Ronan took us to another property, a modern glass-and-steel house perched on a secluded cliffside overlooking the ocean. It was all sharp angles and silence, filled with the sound of crashing waves. There were no heavy antiques, no portraits of grim ancestors. It felt like a bunker designed by a minimalist architect. It felt clean.The first two days passed in a surreal haze of quiet. Security was invisible but omnipresent. Beck was a constant, low-frequency hum of vigilance. Ronan spent hours in the glass-walled study, speaking in low tones on encrypted lines, the green leather ledger from Elira’s safe now his primary wea

CHAPTER 27 - Grave MistakeCalla’s POVAurelius lay in his new fluffy bed, a tiny, snoring mound of golden fur. I sat on the floor beside him, my back against the bed, knees pulled to my chest. I’d been whispering to him for an hour.“It was just a mistake,” I murmured, stroking the silken curve of his ear. “A big, messy, human mistake. He was startled. I was terrified. It was… proximity. Chemistry. Nothing more.”Aurelius sighed in his sleep, his little paws twitching as he chased a dream squirrel.Liar.The voice in my head was quiet, but it was my own. It wasn’t the scared, professional assistant. It was the girl who had felt the world dissolve into heat and hunger under his hands.My fingers drifted to my lips, which still felt tender, swollen. I could still taste him—the dark, clean intensity of it. My stomach did a slow, treacherous flip.What if it wasn’t a mistake?The thought was a spark in dry tinder. I imagined, for a dizzying second, a different world. A world where that k

CHAPTER 29 - Elira’s Dark SecretsRonan’s POVThe dossier on Elira burned cold in my mind. Not just financial records, not just shell companies and dark-market connections. This was the intimate, unvarnished truth. The receipts for the private clinic in Geneva where she'd discreetly ended the pregnancy of a rival CEO's son. The encrypted chat logs with the judge she'd blackmailed into dismissing her DUI. The photos of the warehouse fire that had conveniently cleared a property she needed—along with the two night watchmen who'd never made it out.Beck’s "Silent Partner" protocol was surgical, brutal, and complete. Elira didn't just have skeletons in her closet. She had a charnel house.But the most chilling file was the thinnest. A single, grainy photograph, ten years old. Elira, barely twenty, standing beside a man at a Monaco yacht party. The man’s face was turned away, but his profile was unmistakably my uncle, Damian. On the back of the photo, in Elira’s own looping script: Insuran