Her kiss,His Downfall のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

The bed was cold when she rolled over.Ava blinked into the pale light spilling through the curtains, her hand searching for him out of habit. Nothing. Just sheets pulled tight, like he hadn’t even bothered lying down on his side.She sat up slowly, head foggy, the hollow ache in her chest worse than any hangover. Her bare feet hit the floor, and for a second she just sat there, staring at the space he hadn’t touched.Downstairs, the house was quiet. Too quiet.She found the coffee pot still clean, no fresh coffee waiting like it usually was when he left early. His jacket wasn’t on the chair by the door. The faint hum of his office—always alive with noise—was gone.She poured herself a cup, the silence swallowing even the sound of the pour. Sitting at the counter, she wrapped both hands around the mug just to feel something warm.Every empty space seemed to scream his absence.The house had never felt this big, or this cold.The clock ticked past nine before she heard the garage door.

Ava lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, the glow of the city leaking through her blinds. Sleep wouldn’t come.She could still hear Damon’s voice in the lobby. “Do you enjoy that?” The way it slipped out of him—like something he’d been holding back for too long and lost control of.She should’ve felt triumphant. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To crawl under his skin, to make him unravel piece by piece until he was weak enough to crush.But instead of triumph, there was this strange knot in her chest.She pressed her palms against her eyes, groaning quietly. “Get it together, Ava…”Every time she tried to push it away, it came back stronger. The look on his face when Mr. Keane had smiled at her. That flicker of something raw—something not cold, not calculated. Something Damon Blackwood would rather die than show.Her heart gave a stupid, traitorous flutter, and she rolled over, burying her face in the pillow.She hated this. Hated that it felt like she was losing control of he

Ava sat cross-legged on her couch, the folder Damon had left her lying open across the coffee table. She’d gone over every page three times, her notes scattered beside it in uneven, frustrated scribbles.It didn’t make sense.Most of it was financial fluff—shareholder reports, transaction breakdowns, things that looked important at first glance but revealed nothing after hours of staring. She dug deeper, running her finger along the pages like the texture itself might give her answers.Then her eyes snagged on one sheet near the back. A single memo. Different paper stock, slightly off-white, as if it hadn’t come from the same stack.Her chest tightened.The memo was dated six months after her father’s “accident.” It referenced a transfer of assets between Blackwood subsidiaries, and scribbled in the margin—one word, handwritten in thick black ink: “Collateral.”Collateral.Ava’s pulse climbed. Was this the crack she’d been looking for? Or…Or had Damon put it there on purpose?She lea

The ballroom glittered with glass chandeliers and sharp laughter, the kind of place where fortunes were made with a handshake and reputations ruined with a whisper. Ava smoothed the fabric of her dress as Damon guided her through the crowd with a hand at the small of her back, firm but distracted.He hated these events. She could feel it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his jaw worked each time another executive tried to corner him with a toast or a proposition. Still, he endured, because appearances mattered—and tonight, Blackwood Enterprises needed to be seen holding court.They were halfway across the room when the atmosphere shifted. A ripple of energy passed through the guests, heads turning, voices lowering before rising again in excitement.Ava followed their gazes just as the man walked in.Julian Cross.She’d heard the name in passing—another empire, another titan in a suit—but this was the first time she saw him in person. He didn’t stride so much as glide, all sle

The elevator doors slid open with that soft chime Ava already hated. Too cheerful for the place. Damon walked out first, shoulders squared, expression carved in stone. Ava followed, heels clicking against the marble floor.The glass doors to the boardroom were already open. Voices carried out—low, clipped, businesslike—but there was something different about the energy. Sharper.Damon slowed for half a second. It was quick, barely there, but Ava caught it. She glanced at him, trying to read it, but his face was blank again by the time they stepped inside.The long polished table stretched before them, the usual Blackwood directors sitting stiff in their chairs. But in Damon’s seat, or close enough to make a point, sat a man Ava had never seen before.Dark tailored suit, posture relaxed like he owned the place. Hair pushed back neat, jaw clean-shaven, eyes a shade too amused for the setting. He leaned back in the chair as if he’d been waiting just for Damon.“Well,” the man said, voice