บททั้งหมดของ The billionaire virgin wife: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

The text on Damian’s phone glowed like a warning siren, but Isabella didn’t see it. He silenced the screen quickly, shoving the device aside. Tonight wasn’t for Helena. Tonight was for her.He pulled a blanket over her bare shoulders as she curled against him on the sofa. The steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek should have calmed her, but her thoughts clawed restlessly.“Damian?” she whispered.“Mm?” His fingers traced idle circles along her arm.“Do you ever regret it? …Us?”His body stilled. “Why would I?”“Because I’m not like them.” Her voice was small, but her words cut like glass. “I don’t have their bloodlines, their money, their perfect poise. All I have are scars I can’t erase. And sooner or later, you’ll get tired of protecting me.”Damian lifted her chin until her eyes met his. His gaze was unflinching, sharp enough to pierce through every wall she had built.“You think I want perfection?” His jaw tightened. “What I want is you. The woman who never begged, never sche

The office was supposed to be a place of steel, glass, and control. But with Isabella perched on the edge of Damian’s massive mahogany desk, papers scattered carelessly around them, control was the last thing in the room. The sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows glinted across the polished surface of the desk, casting a golden sheen that seemed to highlight every curve, every subtle movement between them. Her heart thumped audibly in her chest, each beat a reminder of how dangerously close she was to losing herself to him.Damian’s presence was overwhelming, magnetic, and impossible to ignore. His hands braced on either side of her hips, caging her in, a silent claim that both thrilled and terrified her. The scent of his cologne, sharp and intoxicating, mingled with the faint polished smell of the office furniture. It was heady, almost addictive.His eyes were fixed on her, dark, molten, hungry. “Do you know what you do to me?” he asked, his voice low, reverberating deep into he

Night in the penthouse was different now. Quieter, heavier. The usual hum of city life felt distant, muted, as if the world beyond the glass walls had no right to intrude on the charged atmosphere inside. Every shadow seemed sharper, every light flicker a reminder that something unspeakable lingered between them. Isabella could feel it in her bones, a tension that made her skin prickle and her heart drum a wild rhythm she could not control.She sat curled on the couch, her knees hugged to her chest as if the very act of holding herself together could somehow shield her from the storm of emotions raging inside. Her thoughts spun endlessly, circling the same dangerous ideas, the same forbidden desires she could neither accept nor deny. Her pulse thundered with a mixture of fear and anticipation, her body aching in places she did not want to admit. Every nerve ending seemed alive, attuned to the memory of his hands, the echo of his voice, the look in his eyes that had pierced straight th

Damian’s arm stayed firm around Isabella’s waist as though he expected his mother to lunge at her at any second. The room felt charged, the air heavy with a mix of anticipation and quiet scrutiny. Isabella could feel the subtle vibrations of Damian’s tension through the strength of his hold. Her own heart pounded like a drum in her chest, a frantic rhythm that refused to settle even as she tried to steady herself.Across from them, Mrs. Knight regarded Isabella with that same shrewd little smile, the one that suggested she had already drawn conclusions without needing a single word of explanation. Her eyes, sharp yet warm, seemed to weigh Isabella in a way that made her feel simultaneously exposed and oddly cherished.“You’re… Isabella, yes?” Mrs. Knight asked, her voice velvet smooth, carrying a note of curiosity that was carefully measured.Isabella nodded quickly, heat rising to her cheeks. “Y-yes, ma’am,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.“Ma’am?” Mrs. Knight chuckled, waving

The newspaper lay sprawled across Damian’s desk, its ink screaming betrayal in bold black letters.ISABELLA: THE CEO’S MISTRESS?Isabella sat rigid in the chair opposite him, fingers twisted in her lap. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. No matter how many times she blinked, the headline was still there, branding her a thief, a seductress, a woman who didn’t belong.Damian’s jaw was tight enough to crack stone. He didn’t pace. He didn’t shout. He sat, deadly calm, his hands folded over the scandalous paper. That silence was worse than anger.Finally, he spoke. “This was planted. Precision timing, just after my mother left.”Isabella swallowed hard. “Everyone will believe it.”He snapped his gaze to her. “I don’t give a damn what everyone believes. I believe you.”Her chest tightened. The strength in his tone, the certainty, should have comforted her, but the world outside his penthouse didn’t care about truth. Every fiber of her being ached, knowing that outside these walls, rumors spr