บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The city had never felt so cold.Juliette’s breath fogged the window of the cab as she stared out, her heart racing. Damon sat beside her, silent, his thoughts spiraling too fast to catch. Evelyn’s riddles were more than just messages, they were tests. And time was the punishment if they failed.“I can’t stop thinking about what she said,” Juliette murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.Damon turned his gaze toward her. “Which part?”Juliette opened her phone again, displaying the riddle Evelyn had sent in her ornate handwriting:> “Where the river bends and the weeping willows guard,> Seek the shadow where light falls hard.> Count the stones that mark the path,> Before the clock strikes its wrath.” “She’s leading us through our own city,” Juliette said. “A trail of memory… of pain.”Damon nodded grimly. “And each step we take… she watches”.---They arrived at the East River bend just after sunrise.The old park was overgrown, its gate chained and half-buried under vines. A f

The dim light in the room was a pale mockery of daylight, casting long shadows across the rough concrete walls. Juliette’s wrists throbbed where the coarse ropes bit into her skin, but she forced herself to remain still, her breath steady despite the pounding in her chest. Panic was a luxury she could not afford. Her captors had left her alone for now. Every detail of the cramped, cold room was burned into her memory: the faint scent of stale cigarettes lingering in the air, the distant hum of a generator, the barred window high above that let in a sliver of the grey morning sky. It was no penthouse suite, no lavish estate, this was a place designed to break spirits, to isolate and intimidate. Juliette knew she had to keep her wits sharp. Fear clouded judgment, and Evelyn’s people thrived on control. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- She shifted carefully, testing the ropes. They were rough but not unforgiving; she might find a way out if

The cold, sterile light of the underground chamber flickered like a dying star, casting fractured shadows across the walls. Damon’s footsteps echoed with hollow finality as he was pushed forward, hands bound behind his back, his mind burning with questions and adrenaline. The air was damp, tinged with mold, old secrets, and something metallic—like rust… or blood.He was hurt. Tired. Grieving. But he was not broken. Not yet.Juliette was gone.Mason was still missing.And now he was face-to-face with the endgame — whoever had orchestrated the storm that ripped through his life, who had made pawns out of the people he loved, who had stirred old ghosts from the past to bring him to his knees.The steel door groaned shut behind him, locking with a thunderous clang.Then came the voice, smooth, familiar, and laced with venom.“Welcome, Damon. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t make it.” He turned toward the sound, pulse kicking hard against his ribs.A shadow stepped into the dim light.

The darkness seemed to stretch forever.Damon paced the length of the room in the Geneva safe house, his jaw tight with tension, the envelope from Lucien Kane still clutched in his hand. Outside, a relentless storm thrashed against the windows, thunder growling like a war drum in the distance. Every second that ticked by was another beat in a war that had turned deeply personal.Juliette sat near the fireplace, bundled in a blanket, her pallor still evident though the heat was slowly bringing warmth back to her limbs. She looked like a woman who had walked through fire — because she had. Still, her mind raced, processing every whispered threat, every lie un-spun, every enemy now unmasked.Damon broke the silence. “Lucien Kane isn’t after control. He wants legacy. This isn’t about business. It never was.”Juliette met his gaze, “He’s coming for Mason. Not as ransom. As an heir.”Damon stiffened. That single word: heir, landed like a blade.Juliette continued, “He thinks Mason belongs to

The warehouse was colder than Juliette expected. Damp crept through the concrete walls, carrying the sharp stench of rust, oil, and old lies. The silence felt wrong - not peaceful, but waiting. Listening.She stepped carefully into the cavernous space, her breath barely audible over the distant creak of metal above. Her heart pounded in rhythm with every step.Mason was safe.Hours earlier, she had cradled him in her arms, sobbing into his rain-soaked hair as Damon tore through the last of Ghost’s men. Their son had been brought home.But this wasn’t over."Come alone if you want the truth".That was the message Alaric Voss had sent — a summons, not a threat. The architect of their ruin wasn’t finished. And Juliette couldn’t live another day with half-answers and shadows.No weapons. No backup. Just a mother’s fury and a fighter’s resolve.The overhead lights flickered.Juliette froze.A shape emerged from the shadows, followed by a voice—low, smooth, and cruelly calm.“Well done, Juli