Lahat ng Kabanata ng The billionaire virgin wife: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

Damian Knight didn’t sleep.Not after what Isabella told him.Not after what he saw in her eyes—fear disguised as silence. It was the kind of fear that whispered instead of screamed, that curled into corners of the mind and refused to leave.He sat on the edge of their bed while Isabella lay beside him pretending to rest, but he could feel the stiffness in her limbs. She wasn’t asleep.Neither was he.Clarissa’s voice echoed like a venomous ghost in his skull.“He doesn’t realize she’s the bait.”Bait for what?And why now?Why New York?Why his company?Why his wife?By morning, the penthouse was coated in golden light—but none of it felt warm.Isabella had already left for Jaxon Corp with Roman in a separate car. Damian had insisted, gently but firmly. He needed her far from Clarissa for now. Whatever game his sister-in-law was playing, it was bigger than personal revenge.And if Isabella was bait, Damian needed to know who was holding the line.He stepped into the guest room witho

Damian stood in his private command room, an underground extension carved into bedrock beneath the penthouse. The walls were lined with reinforced steel, firewalled servers, biometric scanners, and enough encryption to bury a missile launch. It was built for moments like this. A fortress beneath a fortress.And still, he felt exposed.The surveillance footage kept looping.11:47 PM. Lab 4.The image was crystal clear.A man in a Jaxon Corp badge. Slim build. Tailored suit. Baseball cap pulled low.But not low enough.The moment the figure turned toward the retina scanner, Damian saw it.Raymond Chen.His Chief of Cybersecurity.The man who once stayed up 36 hours straight during the 2023 breach, rebuilding Jaxon Corp’s entire encryption structure while Damian bled from a bullet wound in the next room.The man who stood beside him at the altar just two weeks ago, offering a glass of aged whiskey and saying, “To loyalty. May it never crack.”The same man who gave a toast at his wedding

The air was too quiet.Isabella’s lashes fluttered open. The soft warmth of silk sheets was gone. So was the scent of his cologne like amber, woods, and temptation. The gentle crackle of the fireplace had vanished, replaced by an eerie silence that pressed in on her like a tomb.In its place was a moldy ceiling, cracked from age, and a window smudged with grime. Cold bit at her toes. The thin blanket tangled around her legs was the same one she had used for years. A rusted ceiling fan stood still, dead and useless. The only light came from a grimy window that filtered in the dull, gray morning. The ache in her body told her everything.No marble floors. No penthouse. No Damian.Her lips parted in silence.It was all a dream.She sat up too fast, heart thudding in her chest, like it was trying to escape before the truth crushed it completely. The room around her was the same one she had always known—the one she had escaped from.Hadn’t she?Everything she remembered, Damian’s touch,

Two weeks.Fourteen days of pretending she was broken. Of walking like her bones were made of glass, of bowing her head in silence while Cynthia hurled insults like knives and Clarissa played the sweet serpent with her fake smiles and poisoned words.Isabella played her part well, obedient, vacant-eyed, lips stitched into silence. She scrubbed floors, served tea, and smiled when she wanted to scream. She nodded when Cynthia called her useless. She didn’t flinch when Clarissa dumped soup over her head at dinner just to watch her clean it up.Every second, she held the image of that bus in her mind. That dream. The one that felt too real to be false. Damian’s voice echoing in her chest. His name etched into her bones.And now, it was time.The house was still. Shadows curled in corners like sleeping beasts. The clock on the hallway wall ticked past 1:09 a.m. A perfect hour. Everyone drunk. Everyone dreaming.She slipped into Clarissa’s oversized fur coat, luxurious, heavy, and the only

She turned slowly, her body reacting before her mind could make sense of what she was doing.The young man behind her was dressed in a sleek black blazer, the fabric sharp and perfectly pressed, a silver Jaxon Corp badge clipped to the lapel. His hair was neatly styled, his smile polite,practiced in that way corporate employees wore like part of their uniform.But Isabella’s chest wasn’t reacting to him.It was reacting to this moment.Every sound, every angle of light, every tiny detail around her thudded into place like pieces of a puzzle she’d already solved once before.This was how it happened in the dream.She could hear the echo of it, his voice exactly the same pitch and rhythm as it had been when she’d been standing in this same lobby… except she hadn’t been here before. Not in waking life.“I—yes,” she stammered, unsure whether she was telling the truth. Her lips moved on instinct, as if her tongue had been given lines from a script she didn’t remember learning. “I’m here fo