All Chapters of BOUND TO THE CRIPPLED CEO : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

“Amy, you look divine as always,” the stylist crooned as she ran a brush through my honey-blonde hair. “Planning to slay someone today?”“Not someone,” I said, watching my reflection with a smirk. “Just checking on an old friend.”The salon smelled of hairspray, nail polish, and gossip— my kind of perfume. I crossed my legs, admiring the glint of sunlight against my champagne-colored heels. The morning show on the mounted TV was buzzing about celebrity scandals, but none as juicy as the one I had stirred.“Still talking about that CEO marriage scandal,” the nail tech muttered, scrolling through her phone. “Man, whoever leaked those documents deserves a medal.”I smiled faintly. “You think so?”“Of course. Everyone’s been glued to it for days. Poor guy though— imagine being a billionaire and your whole private life out there like that.”I tapped my freshly manicured nails against the armrest. “I’m sure he’ll live.”The girl laughed, not catching the sarcasm. “Yeah, probably.”When my h

NOLANThe drive up to the Clarkson estate always has that way of swallowing sound. The farther I go, the quieter everything feels— the city’s hum fading into long, private roads lined with trees too perfect to be real. Father loves his quiet. Says it helps him think. I say it helps him control.The guard at the gate gives a curt nod before letting me through. The mansion looms like a monument to pride, all marble and glass, the kind of beauty that demands you bow, even if you hate it. I kill the engine, step out, and straighten my blazer. My pulse thumps just a little faster than I’d like.I shouldn’t feel that way. But no matter how old you get, your father is still your father, especially when that father is a Clarkson.Inside, the air smells of leather and polish. A maid greets me softly, tells me father is in his study. Of course he is.When I push open the door, he’s sitting by the fireplace, a chessboard before him, a glass of whisky beside it. He looks up once— those same cold

DANICAHospitals were supposed to feel safe after what we’d been through, but this one had become a second home. Valerie was sleeping soundly beside Ivan’s bed, her tiny chest rising and falling beneath the thin blanket. Ivan sat upright, pale but stronger now, and little Ivan drew circles with a blue crayon on the tray table.For the first time in days, the room was peaceful.Then the door opened.A woman stepped in—heels, perfume, perfect hair, the kind of presence that didn’t belong in a hospital. My stomach twisted before she even spoke.“You…” I started, blinking as her smile hit me like something rehearsed.She didn’t falter. “Me. Hello, Danica.”Ivan looked up from the papers on his lap. The faintest muscle ticked in his jaw. “What are you doing here, Amy?”Her perfume reached me before her words did. It wasn’t loud, but it carried weight— like an old memory brushing past, almost familiar.Amy moved closer, I could see through her feigned politeness. “Your assistant Mia, told

IVANThe next morning after Amy's visit, came softer than I expected. The kind of morning that didn’t roar but lingered quietly, as if the world itself knew it had been a long few days for all of us.Dr. Kendra walked in with a tablet pressed to her chest and that calm look she always had when she wanted to give news— good or bad. I was sitting on the hospital bed already dressed in a dark sweatshirt and jeans Danica had brought from home.“Well, Mr. Clarkson,” she said, glancing at the chart. “Your results are holding up beautifully. The transplant process between you and Valerie went as expected. There’s no sign of post-procedure complications, and your vitals are steady.”“That means I can go home?” I asked.She smiled. “Yes. You’re being officially discharged this morning. Valerie will stay a few more days for observation, but she’s responding incredibly well. I’d say you both are tougher than you look.”Across the room, Danica exhaled quietly, relief softening the lines of her fa

IVANThe next morning was crisp, the city wrapped in a thin veil of mist that clung stubbornly to the streets. I could see my own breath puff faintly in the air as I stepped out of the mansion, holding little Ivan by the hand. His tiny fingers gripped mine like a lifeline, and the warmth in his hold grounded me.John, our driver, was already waiting, engine humming softly. He looked up as we approached. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted, his tone respectful, though I could tell he was amused at little Ivan bouncing on his feet impatiently.“Morning, John,” I said, lifting my son into the car. “Ready for our adventure?”Little Ivan’s eyes sparkled. “Where are we going, Daddy?”“To see Grandfather,” I replied with a half-smile, easing him into his seat.Danica had stayed behind at the house, preparing to go see Valerie as Kendra had called and informed us that Valerie was making a fuss about seeing her mother.Danica had insisted I take little Ivan alone, arguing that it would make the te