All Chapters of Dear Billionaire Ex, I am more than an arranged marriage: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The world snapped back like a stretched rubber band.Lucian and Eva hit the rooftop hard, the air knocked out of them. For a moment, everything was a blur of spinning neon lights from the city below and the dizzying hum of their own hearts trying to catch up. San Francisco stretched around them—humid, alive, fractured—but real. No shifting skies, no flickering code, no Nexus. Just the heavy weight of Earth pressing them back into reality.Eva rolled onto her side, coughing. Her fingers instinctively reached for her throat—and froze.The locket.It was there again, warm against her skin, glowing faintly as if it had traveled with them through the impossible. She touched it with trembling hands, and when her eyes met Lucian’s, she saw the same thing reflected in him: his hand glowing faintly, pulsing in rhythm with hers.They were tethered. Not just emotionally. Not just spiritually. Something had fused them.Before either could speak, the rooftop door burst open.“Lucian!”Julian’s voi

Lucian didn’t sleep that night. Not really. He’d fallen into a restless doze in the penthouse, his mind replaying spreadsheets, merger charts, and the financial chaos that had consumed Thorne Capital over the past months. But somewhere beneath the calculations and power plays, there was a flicker of unease he couldn’t name.He blamed it on exhaustion. After all, rebuilding an empire wasn’t meant to be easy. Every deal he made, every boardroom negotiation, was another brick laid in a castle that had almost crumbled to dust. That was his domain—numbers, strategy, influence. Nothing else.And yet…He should have noticed it earlier.Eva’s unease had been growing for weeks, subtle but impossible to ignore for anyone who cared enough to look. Lucian, of course, was too absorbed in his own “savior” mode, believing he could smooth over every crisis with a strategic move, a calculated alliance, or a clever negotiation. But this wasn’t corporate warfare. This was personal.And the battlefield w

The champagne glass in Lucian’s hand had gone warm. He hadn’t taken a sip in half an hour, though people around him raised theirs again and again, laughing, toasting, flashing white smiles that felt too sharp in the dim light. Strings played somewhere near the stage, soft and sophisticated, but the sound grated against his nerves. The gala was everything it was meant to be—polished, grand, dripping with wealth. And yet, to Lucian, it felt hollow.He shouldn’t have come.He knew it the second he stepped out of the car alone. The empty seat beside him had been a decision—his decision. He had told himself Eva wouldn’t care, that she would understand, that it was just one night, one statement for the company. But the truth was different. The truth sat heavy in his chest: he had left her at home with silence between them, silence thick with betrayal.And now, here he was—standing under crystal chandeliers that glittered like frozen stars—while she was probably curled on the couch, staring

The air around Thorne Capital buzzed with tension that morning. Reporters flooded the lobby, their cameras flashing, their voices blending into a storm of questions. Nobody knew why the conference had been called — only that something big was coming.Rumors had been swirling for weeks. Some said Lucian Thorne had stepped down. Others whispered about a power struggle. A few tabloids even suggested that his wife, Eva, had secretly taken over. Everyone expected chaos.What they got was something far more shocking.When the glass doors opened, Lucian walked out — tall, composed, and very much in control. But it wasn’t his presence that stunned the crowd. It was the fact that he was holding Eva’s hand.They stood side by side, fingers intertwined, their connection quiet but unshakable. Eva’s gaze was calm; Lucian’s was steady. For the first time in a long while, they didn’t look like a couple surviving a storm. They looked like the storm itself.As the flashes exploded, Lucian leaned towar

Some ghosts don’t come in the night. They call in broad daylight on numbers long forgotten.Life had finally begun to feel real for Lucian and Eva. After everything they’d endured — the secrets, the battles, the lies — peace had found them. Lucian’s public vow of devotion had silenced their critics. The world now saw them as unbreakable — a love story written in light, not in war.Every photo, every headline painted them as untouchable. Their bond had become its own kind of armor.But even armor cracks when struck by something personal.That morning, San Francisco was bright and calm, the air carrying the scent of rain-soaked earth. Eva was making coffee, humming softly. Lucian stood by the window, scrolling through messages, his shirt sleeves rolled up, sunlight cutting across his face.Then his private phone — the one no one ever used — began to ring.He frowned. “Strange,” he muttered, picking it up.Eva turned. “Who’s calling you this early?”Lucian checked the number — and froze.