Semua Bab The billionaire virgin wife: Bab 71 - Bab 80

The moment Helena’s heels stopped clicking down the marble hallway, the entire office seemed to exhale, though for Isabella, the air turned thick and heavy, pressing down like an invisible weight that threatened to crush her chest. The echo of Helena’s parting words lingered in her mind, a venomous whisper she couldn’t shake.“Some pasts have a way of following, don’t they?” The phrase was silk and poison wrapped in a smile, a carefully measured warning designed to unsettle. It did. The words curled in her gut, twisting like a slow-burning fire.Isabella’s fingers hovered uncertainly above the keyboard. The screen blurred, numbers and reports melting into meaningless shapes. She tried to focus, tried to ground herself in the familiar rhythm of typing, but the office felt suddenly alien. The world had shifted under her feet, the ground she’d built so carefully cracking in dangerous places.She wanted to run. She wanted to disappear from this glass cage, from the sharp eyes and veiled t

The morning air carried the crisp bite of early spring, the kind that woke your senses and made every sound feel sharper. The faint tang of exhaust from passing cars mingled with the aroma of fresh bread from the bakery on the corner. Isabella stepped out of her building, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, heels clicking against the pavement in a rhythm that matched her quickened heartbeat.She hadn’t expected him to be there.Damian’s car , a sleek black sedan that looked more like a shadow than a vehicle parked at the curb. He was leaning casually against it, arms loosely folded, head tilted slightly as if he’d been watching her for longer than she realized.No suit today.No tie.Just dark slacks that hugged his frame, a fitted charcoal shirt with the top two buttons undone, and a watch that probably cost more than her entire year’s salary catching the light when he moved.“You’re late,” he said, his voice smooth as glass. His lips curved upward just enough to keep th

The next evening, the office buzzed with the usual rhythm , ringing phones, the low murmur of conversations, and the staccato click of keyboards. The air smelled faintly of coffee and printer ink, that familiar blend of routine and urgency.And then Damian walked in.The shift was instantaneous. Conversations faltered. Fingers hovered over keyboards. Even the hum of the office copier seemed to soften as if the machine itself sensed the sudden gravity in the air.He was in a tuxedo.Perfectly tailored, black and sharp against the crisp white shirt, the satin lapels catching the light with each step. The bow tie at his throat sat with infuriating precision, the knot immaculate. There was an ease to his posture, the kind that came from wearing power like second skin and in that moment, he looked less like a CEO and more like a man who owned the world.Isabella rose from her desk, her pulse ticking faster. She was suddenly, acutely aware of the emerald green dress clinging to her figure

The office looked the same as it always did, sleek glass walls, quiet hum of conversation, the distant ring of phones but to Isabella, it felt different.Or maybe it was just him.Her heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor as she stepped out of the elevator. She adjusted the strap of her handbag on her shoulder, telling herself she was fine, that this was just another ordinary morning. But the moment she caught sight of the familiar glass door to his office, her chest tightened.Damian was already in when she arrived. She could see him through the glass wall, his jacket hanging neatly on the back of his chair, sleeves rolled to his forearms as he typed something on his laptop. There was a certain precision in his movements, an unhurried confidence that made him stand out even in stillness.The morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, catching in his hair, sharpening the angles of his face. He looked completely absorbed in his work but Isa

Damian insisted on driving her home himself.The car glided through the city streets, headlights painting fleeting strokes of gold across the pavement. The hum of the engine filled the silence, low and steady, yet it did little to quiet the storm inside Isabella. She sat in the passenger seat, hands folded tightly in her lap, her fingers brushing against the cool diamond bracelet on her wrist.Every time the delicate stones caught the glow of the streetlights, her chest tightened. It wasn’t the bracelet itself , though it was exquisite, even breathtaking but what it represented. The evening lingered in her mind like a song stuck on repeat: the view from his penthouse balcony, the way his gaze had lingered on her as though he was memorizing every curve of her face, the almost-kiss that still burned against her lips even though it had never truly happened.Damian’s hand rested casually on the wheel, his other elbow propped near the window. His profile, strong and unreadable, was illu