All Chapters of The billionaire virgin wife: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Some names should stay buried, but the past always remembers.The name on the envelope made her stomach twist into a thousand silent knots.The air around her thickened, like something invisible had entered the room. A chill spread across her bare arms, even though no window was open. It was as if the name itself had teeth—biting through the peace she’d barely begun to trust.Martinez.Elegant. Cold. Inked in a handwriting that didn’t belong in this life she had fought to build.It shouldn’t exist here. Not in Damian’s penthouse. Not on top of the polished glass console table beside their gold-trimmed wedding frame. And certainly not staring back at her like a ghost.Isabella stared at it for what felt like hours. Her lungs barely expanded. Her pulse climbed and crashed and then climbed again. It was like someone had plucked her out of the present and thrown her into the past—into a snow-covered graveyard outside Moscow where her father’s name had been carved into stone just after his

The encrypted screen flickered, the letters glowing crimson as the final message pulsed across the monitor like a threat branded into fire.“I know who she is. I know where she is. And so do the others.”Isabella’s heart stuttered. Her breath caught mid-inhale, and for a brief moment, the penthouse seemed to tilt.“They’re here…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “In New York.”Her stomach clenched. Her legs felt weak. New York was supposed to be safe. A place to vanish, to start over. A city filled with life big enough to disappear into. But now, no matter how far she’d run, Russia was clawing its way back. She could still remember the taste of iron in her mouth the last time she’d looked over her shoulder in the snow.“They found me,” she whispered, mostly to herself.Damian’s hands were already moving, fingers flying over his matte-black custom keyboard with the precision of a man used to outrunning shadows. His jaw was steel, eyes locked on the data.“Two firewalls down,”

Obsession is a dangerous kind of devotion.It was 5:16 a.m.The sky outside was still a navy bruise, and Manhattan was eerily quiet, like the city itself was holding its breath.So was she.Isabella blinked sleepily, alone in the vast bed that still smelled of Damian—salt and cedarwood and sin. Her limbs ached in the most delicious ways, reminders of everything that had happened just hours ago. But it wasn’t the ache that woke her. It was the silence. The kind of silence that didn’t feel peaceful, but alert—like a held breath before a scream.She reached out instinctively, fingers grazing the cold side of the bed. He was gone. And with him, the warmth that had wrapped around her just hours ago.A shiver ran down her spine, more from intuition than cold. Something was off. Something was wrong.The coldness of the sheets beside her. The familiar hum of Damian’s security system being recalibrated. The quiet clack of a keyboard in the next room.She slipped out of bed, a faint frown on he

The sun filtered through the tinted windows of Jaxon Corp, casting sharp lines of light and shadow across the sleek surfaces of Damian Knight’s office. The glass walls, once a symbol of transparency and corporate precision, now felt like a prison of temptation—framing a private moment that had no business happening during working hours.Outside those walls, the world moved like a machine, phones ringing, deals being closed, assistants delivering coffee. But in here, the silence pulsed. Not just silence. Hunger. As if the room itself held its breath.Isabella’s fingers clutched the edge of Damian’s black desk, knuckles pale from the pressure, her breath shallow and fast. His mouth was everywhere.. on her neck, trailing fire over the skin he’d already claimed the night before. She had barely recovered from the memory of how he’d whispered her name, with his voice trembling as he made her his under moonlight and silk sheets.And now?Now she was in his lap, in his arms, in his world. His

When you write your pain in ink, be ready for the world to read it.Isabella stepped into the penthouse with exhaustion weighing down her limbs, her heels clicking faintly on the polished marble. The soft warmth of home should have embraced her after such a long day. But tonight, the air inside felt… disturbed, as though the walls had witnessed something they shouldn’t have.Her brows pinched together. The lavender scent from the essential oils she used every night still lingered faintly, but underneath it, something colder—tickled her nose. A subtle draft whispered through the space, though every window was locked and every curtain drawn. The thermostat buzzed quietly, but it didn’t feel like the same penthouse she always returned to.Something was off.A strange stillness wrapped around the place.She knew the rhythm of this home, the gentle hum of the vents, the quiet vibration of the glass doors when a storm was near, and most of all, the warmth that always seemed to emanate from