All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The silence in Damon’s office was a storm in disguise. Outside, Thorne Tower buzzed with media scrutiny and shareholder unrest. But within the top floor, where power lived and bled, everything stood still – tense, cold, brittle. Damon sat alone, the confidential report Juliette had delivered open before him. His eyes scanned it again not because he hadn’t read it, but because he couldn’t believe it.Cole Ashford. His right-hand man. His closest ally. The only person who had known every brick of this empire since day one. Feeding Intel to Celeste?. “Impossible,” Damon muttered. But the proof was irrefutable – coded emails, encrypted calls routed through a shell company in Prague, wire transfers disguised as offshore investments. Every thread pointed to betrayal. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------The door creaked open. Juliette entered, reading the tension instantly. “You saw it?” He didn’t answer. She stepped close, placing a han

The storm outside mirrored the one raging inside Damon’s chest. Rain beat against the Thorne estate’s stained-glass windows like war drums, and wind howled through the ancient corridors, whispering secrets long buried. Damon stood in the west wing; the forbidden wing, as his father once called it. Few entered these rooms anymore. The furniture was covered in white sheets like ghosts frozen in time. The air held the scent of dust, cedar, and secrets. It had been years since Damon last came here. Years since he’d let himself remember. After Celeste’s latest strike — acquiring the controlling stake in StoneVault, he knew it was time to confront the one question he’d avoided for too long. Why was she doing this? There had to be more than jealousy, more than ambition. The sheer viciousness, the surgical precision of her attacks — it was personal. And the answers, he suspected, lay buried in his family’s past. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The grand ballroom of the Thorne Foundation gala shimmered with calculated opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the impeccably dressed guests, while a string quartet played soft, elegant melodies beneath the towering arches. Waiters glided through the space, balancing trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres with mechanical grace. But beneath the veneer of luxury, tension thrummed like a second heartbeat – tight, quiet, inescapable. Damon stood by the expansive window overlooking the city skyline, a glass of whiskey in hand. His tuxedo was impeccable, his posture unreadable but his eyes, sharp and restless, scanned the room like a general preparing for battle. Every clink of a glass, every whispered word, could be the first blow. Beside him, Juliette stood tall and poised, fingers clenched around her silver clutch. Her gown shimmered under the soft lights, but her gaze was harder than diamonds. To the world, they looked like a fractured couple — rich, elegant, an

The silence after the ambush was deafening. Damon crouched low behind a wrecked SUV, blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt where a shard of glass had cut deep into his shoulder. His breathing was ragged, pain radiating across his chest, but his eyes never left Juliette who knelt beside a wounded assailant, fury carved into every line of her face.Just minutes earlier, Damon had collapsed in the rain, watching the black van vanish into the city with Juliette inside.But she hadn’t stayed gone.Somehow—bloody, bruised, and burning with rage, Juliette had escaped. She’d leapt from the van during a sharp turn near the old freeway split, tumbling into darkness before the masked men realized she was gone.Damon had found her half a mile away, staggering barefoot through a service alley.Together, they doubled back and caught one of the attackers who hadn’t made it to the van. Now, that man groaned on the ground, bleeding, cornered, and out of time.Juliette pressed her hand against h

The silence inside the Thorne estate felt heavier than stone. Rain tapped against the tall windows like a metronome for unraveling nerves. Damon stood at the edge of the study, a crumpled letter trembling in his hands. His jaw clenched, eyes locked on the inked confession Evelyn had left behind. Across the room, Juliette stood in the soft halo of the chandelier, arms crossed tightly, her posture a mirror of the storm outside. She had read the letter too, but she waited. "She admitted it," Damon said finally, his voice rough, broken. "Evelyn's been talking to Celeste since the beginning. Since the first time Mason was taken." Juliette stepped forward, but not too close. "And now you have to decide what that means Damon turned to her, eyes wild. "She raised me. She swore loyalty. She knew what Celeste was capable of, and still, she chose her" "Maybe she thought she was protecting you. Or Mason. Or herself. Maybe fear did what logic couldn’t." He laughed, bitter. "That's not protect