All Chapters of The Billionaire's Hidden Vows: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The rain had not stopped since dawn, a steady silver curtain that turned the city streets into darkened rivers. Savannah stood in the boardroom of Briggs International, high above the storm, staring down at the city that pulsed like a fever beneath her. Every glass wall reflected her face back at her—hard, sharpened, exhausted. She was wearing Colton’s authority now, carrying it like an inherited mantle, but it weighed heavier than she had imagined.Her phone buzzed once on the polished mahogany table. A message with no name, no preamble.“She’s back.”Savannah froze. The words crackled with menace. She didn’t need a signature. She knew. The ghost of the past had chosen this storm to re-enter her life. Magnolia.Her hand trembled, and she clenched it into a fist. In the stillness of the boardroom, she whispered aloud, as if to Colton though he lay silent in his coma bed:“Of course she’d come now.”The doors opened without warning, and the scent of rain swept in. And there she was—Mag

The penthouse no longer felt like a sanctuary. Its glittering windows reflected the gray light of early morning, casting Savannah in the pallor of glass and steel. The skyline pulsed beneath her like a living entity—Briggs’s empire, alive, ruthless, waiting. And at the center of it all, Colton lay silent in his hospital bed, his body wired to machines that hummed and whispered like ghosts.Every night Savannah went to him. She sat by his bed, fingers brushing over his pale hand, whispering words he could not hear. But the day was for war.Today she stood alone in his office, the leather chair behind his desk cold and too large for her frame. The room smelled faintly of cedar and bourbon, but the scent no longer belonged to him. It belonged to her now, or so the board insisted, elevating her as Acting CEO. The word echoed like a taunt. Acting. Temporary. A woman filling in until the empire could crown a man again.Her reflection in the dark window looked like a stranger. Hollow eyes, l

The first days after the courtroom war unfolded with an unnatural stillness. Savannah had expected celebration, relief, or at least a kind of fiery vindication. Instead, Briggs Tower seemed embalmed in silence, like a cathedral after midnight mass, its marble floors echoing only the sound of her own footsteps.She moved through the corridors in black silk that whispered at her ankles, the title of CEO fastened to her name like a manacle rather than a crown. Colton still lay in a coma, his body hooked to machines that breathed for him, his face as pale as marble beneath hospital light. She visited him each night, sometimes pressing her hand to the glass, as though some invisible barrier kept her forever inches from him.On the seventy-third floor, her office reeked of antiseptic polish and hollow triumph. The board had bent to her signature, contracts were signed, and headlines blazed her victory across the city. But power felt rotten on her tongue.Because whispers had already begun—r

The mansion was quiet except for the relentless whisper of the rain against its glass walls, each droplet carrying the sound of old sorrow, as if the house itself mourned the wounds carved into its history. Savannah—no, Savara now, for she had begun to think of herself by the name that both soothed and terrified her—stood before the gilt-framed mirror in the west corridor. The dim chandelier light gilded her face with an almost holy glow, though her eyes told another story: glassy, feverish, too alive for their own good.Her hand trembled as she pulled down the sleeve of her silk gown. There, along the curve of her wrist, the faint mark shimmered, not of ink or blade but of heat, as though fire itself had kissed her flesh. The memory of last night’s ritual—a ritual she had not fully remembered consenting to—came in jagged flashes. The candlelit chamber. The circle of salt and roses. The cut of her own skin. A voice whispering: You will never belong to one man, but to the vow you carry

The Briggs estate was a contradiction, a cathedral of marble and glass that somehow felt as fragile as parchment. From the outside, it loomed—turrets carved in stone, windows blazing with light against the Tuscan night—but within, it was a labyrinth of echoes and secrets. Every corridor Savannah walked seemed thinner than the last, as though the walls themselves might crumple with one errant breath.Her heels clicked along the polished floor in relentless rhythm, each step striking the air like the countdown of a clock. She felt it in her bones: something was unraveling, not just the company, not just Colton’s legacy, but herself.Servants paused mid-step when she appeared. Their eyes flickered downward, their mouths sealed in uneasy silence. Lawyers lingered in doorways, clutching leather briefcases like executioner’s axes, waiting for their chance to pronounce her fate in ink and precedent. Even the chandeliers seemed to tremble above her head, their crystals scattering the light li