All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The morning mist curled like smoke through the Thorne estate gardens, blurring the view from Juliette's bedroom window. It had rained overnight, but the storm inside her was just beginning to rise. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small mahogany box in her lap — the one Evelyn had left her with the whispered words: "When the time comes, you'll need to remember who you are".She opened it slowly, the hinges creaking as if burdened by time. Inside lay a bundle of faded photographs, newspaper clippings, and a letter sealed in violet wax. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the brittle pages.Dearest Juliette,There are things you were never meant to know. But if you're reading this, then the lies have begun to crumble, and the truth can no longer stay buried...Juliette read every word, her heart clenching tighter with each revelation. The letter wasn’t just from Evelyn. It was from her mother; a woman she barely remembered, whose death had been cloaked in mystery and silence

The morning air was heavy with expectation.Outside the Thorne estate, camera crews and reporters gathered like a storm. Juliette watched them from the second-floor balcony window, the city’s chaos reflected in her eyes - but her resolve was steel. This wasn’t just a press conference.It was her moment to take back the narrative that had been stolen from her.Behind her, Evelyn entered quietly. "They’re ready when you are."Juliette nodded, and then faced the mirror one last time. Her dark burgundy lipstick matched the quiet fire burning inside. She was no longer the forgotten wife. She was the voice they had tried to silence.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Grand Oak Hotel – Press Conference VenueThe ballroom was filled to capacity. Reporters lined the walls, cameras rolling, microphones extended. The public had questions, and Juliette had been a name wrapped in mystery ever since Damon Thorne’s scandals broke loose.But

The city slept beneath a blanket of darkness, but inside Damon and Juliette’s penthouse, the lights blazed like a war room. Panic pulsed in every shadow, not because Mason was gone but because he was back… and he wouldn’t speak.Juliette stood at the foot of his bed, arms wrapped tightly, watching her son twist beneath the blankets. His brow twitched. His lips parted, whispering something inaudible.“He hasn’t said a word since we brought him home,” she murmured.Damon stood in the hallway behind her; jaw tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “He’s traumatized”.Juliette turned to him. “It’s more than trauma. He’s afraid… but not of them. It’s like he doesn’t trust us”.Damon exhaled, slow and sharp. “They got into his head”.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------In the kitchen, Juliette emptied Mason’s backpack again. Inside were his sketchbook, a folded sweater, and a velvet pouch she hadn’t seen before.

The evening sky draped New York in velvet darkness, stars blinking faintly above the city that never slept — perhaps too afraid to watch what came next.Inside the Thorne penthouse, silence coiled like smoke.Damon stood at the window, reflection fractured across the glass. His shoulders were stiff, hands behind his back like a soldier bracing for war. Across the room, Juliette sat curled in a sleek leather armchair, the space between them filled by a single document.An affidavit.Anonymous.Alleging that Mason wasn’t Damon’s biological son.Juliette had found it in a plain yellow envelope, dropped at the front desk with no return address.“She’s bluffing,” Juliette said finally, voice taut. “This is Celeste’s work. Another layer of manipulation meant to destabilize us”.Damon didn’t move. “If this spreads or if Mason sees it — it won’t matter what’s real”.“He’s our son,” she said fiercely, rising to meet him. “No piece of paper forged in shadows changes that”.His jaw clenched. “But

The Thorne Estate had never known silence like this. It wasn’t peace, it was anticipation. The deep, oppressive kind that came before the final blow. A calm that hummed with consequence.Damon stood at the center of his private study, a man forged from fire, staring down the empire he was about to detonate. His hands were steady, but his eyes carried storms. The skyline outside shimmered like a memory - untouchable and distant.Juliette entered without knocking, a leather folder in one hand, her heels silent against the floor. Her face was steel. No hesitation. No fragility.“This is it,” she said.Damon turned. “No turning back?”She shook her head. “Not unless we want to be ruled by ghosts”.------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The StrategyThey had built the case with surgical precision: wire transfers, shell corporations, foundation audits, fake beneficiaries, and hush payments tied directly to the Thorne Foundation and Ce