All Chapters of Only His On Paper: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

“I need to speak with both of you. There’s something you should know… about the inheritance clause.”The words dropped like ice into the room.Damian didn’t move.The man in the doorway stepped in slowly, brushing off rain from his coat like this wasn’t the moment everything might change. He looked like the type who never rushed because bad news always waited for its moment.“My name is Charles Renner. I’m here on behalf of the Kingsley board and your late father’s estate.”Damian’s shoulders pulled back, sharp. “I know who you are.”“I assumed you would,” Charles said calmly, setting his briefcase down on the edge of the table. “Then I’ll keep this brief. The board has activated formal review of Clause 18-B.”My eyes flicked between them. “What’s Clause 18-B?”Damian didn’t answer. His jaw had already gone rigid.Charles glanced at me, then back at Damian. “It’s the emotional clause. The one your father inserted after Helena.”I turned to Damian. “What does that mean?”His silence wa

The photo didn’t blur when Damian blinked.It stayed exactly the same, Ava in that faded diner uniform, her posture a little hunched, her face tired in a way he’d never seen. She looked so young. So unguarded. Like everything kept getting taken from her, and she didn’t even know how to fight for what was left.The message beneath it didn’t need a signature.Still think she belongs to you?He didn’t flinch. But his jaw locked.He set the phone down on the glass table with a kind of care that felt more dangerous than rage. The fire made a sound, louder, sharper like it felt it too, whatever was building.Ethan.It had been sitting there in his chest for weeks, maybe longer pressure, heat, something sharp and then suddenly it cracked.His hand was on the table, curled into a fist so hard his arm shook.And then… he was gone. Out the door. It slammed behind him and only then did he realize how fast he’d moved.The new facility didn’t look like a hospital.It looked like a private villa th

“I’m not leaving you.”I said it like a vow, like maybe saying it enough could make everything else stop spinning.But they made me leave anyway.The guard tapped the glass, gave me that rehearsed, polite nod the kind that made it worse. I stood because I had to. Not because I wanted to. Not because I could.I walked out of that holding room with my fists clenched, nails digging into my palm to feel something that wasn’t heartbreak. I didn’t look back. I didn’t have to.Because he didn’t ask me to stay.Because he trusted I would.—The next morning, they let him go.Bail. Money. Quiet backdoor.But the media? They weren’t quiet.By the time I got back to the penthouse, three different headlines had already gone viral.“Kingsley Heir Arrested in Assault Probe.”“Damian Kingsley: Hero, Monster, or Just Rich Enough to Walk?”“Sources Confirm Marriage May Be Strategic Fraud.”Every photo they used was calculated, shots of him in cuffs, one where I looked hollow-eyed in court lighting, an

Ava’s POVI didn’t move for a long time.Just stood there in the penthouse, lights off, my reflection barely visible in the glass. Romeoutside, blurred and bright, like the city refused to care that everything was falling apartinside this apartment.Because this wasn’t just smoke and mirrors anymore.It was war.And I was already losing.Naomi’s voice cut through the silence like a crack splitting glass.“Guys. You need to see this.”There was no one else here. Just me. And her. And the air between us felt too still.I turned slowly. She stood by the kitchen island, pale, phone in one hand, laptop glowingcold light across her face.“Helena just called an emergency board vote,” she said. “Effective immediately. She’snominating herself as interim CEO.”I blinked. “She can’t.”“She can,” Naomi said tightly. “If she has enough voting shares. And she does.”“No,” I breathed. “She had… what, seven percent?”“She had seven percent.” Naomi’s voice was sharper now, her fingers flying acros

Ava’s POVThe antiseptic sting in the air reminded me of every night I’d spent in hospitals, except tonight, the blood on the sheets wasn’t Lily’s. It was Damian’s.He’d walked in alone. No security, no suit, no press disguise. Just a streak of blood down his arm and something desperate in his eyes. He’d looked at me—only me—before sliding against the white wall outside Lily’s ICU room and saying nothing.I should’ve told him to leave.Instead, I told the nurse, “I’ve got it.”She blinked, uncertain. “You’re…?”“His wife.”Her mouth pressed into a tight line. She handed me the tray of gauze, thread, and antiseptic. No questions asked.“You need to let me look at that,” I said, quietly.Damian didn’t respond.So I turned. “Damian. Sit.”He hesitated, and then just like that night on the rooftop in Rome, the one he still pretended didn’t happen he listened. He lowered himself onto the stiff couch, his movements tight, the fabric of his shirt sticking to torn skin.Naomi had stuffed a me