Semua Bab The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife: Bab 161 - Bab 170

The hospital room was too quiet. Too sterile. Only the steady rhythm of the heart monitor reassured Juliette that Damon was still alive.He lay pale against the sheets, a thick bandage wrapped around his torso where the bullet had torn through muscle. Tubes ran from his arms. An oxygen line clipped to his nose. His skin looked too still. Too cold.Juliette hadn’t moved from his side.She hadn’t even cried.Her hand curled around his, willing him to stay tethered to the world.When he finally stirred — just a twitch of his fingers, a low groan in his throat, she leaned in, heart in her throat.“Damon,” she whispered, her voice cracking.His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then narrowing on her face. “Juliette…”“I’m here. I never left.”He blinked again, trying to piece together memory. “The meeting… the smoke… I remember gunshots.”“You were shot,” she confirmed, gently brushing hair from his forehead. “In the chaos. Security got the attacker, but you lost a lot of blood.”Hi

The hospital walls were too white. Too clean. Damon hated hospitals. The sterile smell, the hollow quiet, the way time seemed to stretch unnaturally between each beep of the monitor.He reclined against a pile of pillows, body aching from the attempt on his life, bruised ribs, a dislocated shoulder, two fractured fingers. But none of it compared to the deeper wound inside him, the gnawing sense that the war was only beginning.Juliette stood near the window, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the visitor who sat across from Damon like a man holding a match over dry kindling.Vin Arledge.Leaner than most men of his age, with a sharp jawline, faint limp, and a scar bisecting his left cheek, he looked like a man who had learned to survive by walking through fire."You say you have answers," Damon said, voice tight. "Then talk."Vin glanced between them, his tone casual but his eyes calculating. "You want to stop Celeste? Then you need to understand the scale of what you’re up against. This

The penthouse was cloaked in the hush of midnight, broken only by the soft hum of Juliette’s encrypted laptop. A single desk lamp glowed gold against the darkness, casting long shadows over the mahogany. Juliette sat still, frozen in that glow, her fingers hovering above the keyboard as the progress bar ticked toward completion.The hidden file had been buried deep - concealed inside a folder disguised as outdated legal memos. It had taken hours of decoding and the help of one of Damon’s most trusted cyber security allies, someone sworn to absolute secrecy to get this far.Now, the final firewall had fallen.And the truth spilled out like poison.Spreadsheets. Wire transfers. Meeting notes. Surveillance logs. It wasn’t just a strategy, it was a full-scale operation. A methodical, relentless campaign designed to dismantle Thorne Enterprises from within. The scope was staggering.Juliette’s heart pounded as she recognized the names—senior executives, board members, and assistants. People

Rain fell in a steady rhythm against the penthouse windows, soft but insistent like a countdown clock Damon couldn’t silence. Inside, tension hung in the air like fog. Damon stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, jaw tight. Across from him, Juliette paced, her boots whispering across the marble floor.“We can’t make a decision out of fear,” Juliette said, stopping short of him. Her voice was calm, but her eyes shimmered with barely restrained emotion. “He betrayed you, Damon. Lied for months. Watched everything fall apart and didn’t say a word.”Damon’s gaze didn’t move. “He was cornered. Celeste had leverage.”“So did we,” Juliette snapped. “And we didn’t hand your empire to the enemy.”Carson Wells — former CFO, trusted friend had offered a deal: immunity in exchange for intel. Names. Shell companies. Routes and passwords that could unravel the web surrounding Celeste and Orbis.Everything they needed.But letting him walk free would make them complicit.Damon turned from the fire.

The conference room at Thorne’s Global downtown headquarters was dimly lit, a deliberate choice for the conversation ahead. Damon Thorne sat at the head of the long glass table, a figure of grit and exhaustion. Opposite him sat Roman Vale the CEO of ValeCorp, a man with a smile as sharp as his acquisitions.Beside Damon, Juliette watched with narrowed eyes. The air between them brimmed with mistrust and necessity. Roman’s offer had bought them time in the war against Paragon but at a steep cost: a minority stake in Thorne Global and limited access to their confidential systems for six months.“You don’t like me,” Roman said, sipping his espresso with smug grace. “That’s fine. I don’t need to be liked. I need to be effective.”Damon’s expression didn’t waver. “We didn’t accept your terms because we wanted to. We accepted them because we were cornered.”Juliette’s tone turned glacial. “Double-cross us, and there won’t be a second meeting.”Roman smiled wider. “Relax. I don’t double-cros