Semua Bab The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife: Bab 181 - Bab 190

The moon hung low over the city skyline like a watchful sentinel, casting long silver streaks across rooftops and empty streets. In the stillness of the hour, two unmarked black SUVs rolled through the industrial district, silent as shadows. Inside, Damon and Juliette sat in focused silence, their eyes fixed on the facility ahead – a seemingly abandoned data storage warehouse that was, in reality, one of Alexander Blackwell's most protected assets."We're sure the servers are here?" Damon asked, his voice low.Juliette nodded, holding up a tablet with a live satellite feed. "Encrypted transmissions have been bouncing off this building every thirty-six hours for the last two months. Financial routing, identity laundering, and offshore coordination all point to this node. We take it out, we fracture his control”.Beside them, Rafael Vasquez, their loyal cyber-security expert and former intelligence operative, double-checked his equipment. "We get ten minutes inside. Tops. After that, hi

The early morning light filtered through the penthouse windows, casting long shadows over the remnants of a sleepless night. Damon stood in the war room, what used to be his office, now overtaken by maps, files, surveillance photos, and screens scrolling with live data feeds. But his eyes weren’t on the Intel. They were locked on a single document in his hand.A birth certificate.Juliette Rowe.Except the last name on it wasn’t Rowe. It had never been.Her real surname was Blackwell.His hand trembled slightly as he placed the paper back into the secure folder. Across the room, Leo sat hunched over a laptop, his voice low as he coordinated with their tech team."We've traced the encrypted comms to an old Coldridge account. High-level access, mirrored files, likely connected to the Blackwell shell companies," Leo muttered.Damon barely heard him. His mind was on Juliette.He'd known for two days. Two long, torturous days since Leo and their hacker, Farrah, had pulled Juliette's sealed

Rain lashed against the windows of the safehouse, a modest villa nestled on the outskirts of the city, miles away from the chaos of Thorne International and the war it had become. The villa was quiet, save for the soft beeping of a monitor and the shallow, strained breaths of the man lying in the hospital-grade bed at the center of the room.Damon Thorne.Alive.Barely.His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, the painkillers and sedatives dulling his awareness to a flickering candlelight. Bandages lined his ribcage. A contusion above his left brow had been expertly stitched. His right leg had been fractured, the cast freshly set. He looked nothing like the formidable CEO the world once revered.Standing silently by the door was the man who had rescued him.Dominic Hale.Former special ops. Now a discreet fixer for high-net-worth clients who needed problems solved quietly. Hale had been many things in his life, but above all, he was a strategist. He didn't save Damon out of compassio

The rain returned like a haunting rhythm, tapping softly against the hospital window as Juliette sat beside Damon. He was asleep, bruises along his jawline and temple still fresh, but alive. For the moment, that was enough. The silence between them carried more weight than words. But the reprieve wouldn't last long. Her phone buzzed.Unknown Number.A single line lit up the screen:You want the truth? Ask Celeste what she did in Geneva - 1995.Juliette’s breath caught. Geneva? That year matched the earliest memories she had —or thought she had. Flashes of white walls, whispered voices, cold metal tables. A place she had always chalked up to imagination.She looked down at Damon, his chest rising and falling steadily. He needed time to heal. She, on the other hand, needed answers. And there was only one person who could give them to her.-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Celeste waited in her penthouse with a glass of wine

The war was no longer creeping in the shadows. It was at their doorstep.Thunder cracked over the city skyline, rattling glass and spiking nerves like the heavens themselves were bracing for what was coming. Inside the fortified compound, Damon had relocated to a sleek, secure estate hidden just beyond the city’s edge, a small team gathered around a glowing table that projected surveillance grids, biometric Intel, and encrypted dossiers.This wasn’t a strategy meeting. This was a last stand.Juliette stood at the head of the room, rigid, a file trembling faintly in her grip. The weight of too many truths pressed down on her. Damon entered quietly, his limp pronounced, the bandage beneath his shirt still fresh. But his eyes burned. No longer just a CEO. Now a man with nothing left to lose.“We’re down to fewer than twenty verified contacts,” Juliette began, voice steady but tight. “Everyone else has either defected, disappeared, or was never loyal to begin with”.“Which means,” Damon a