Lahat ng Kabanata ng My marriage was for money, his for vengeance: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The aroma of toast and just-peeled oranges hung in the air before Elira opened the door.Caelan was standing at the stove—bare feet, pushed-up sleeves, spatula in his hand like it was where it belonged. He looked back over his shoulder when he heard her cross the floor."Good morning," he said, still a little low from sleep.She blinked, not knowing what shocked her more—the apron, the eggs, or the way the cold-blooded billionaire could seem so completely human in soft light and silence."You cook now?" she taunted."I toast," he said. "Angela cooks. I simply didn't wake her up today."She cocked her head, studying him. "Because?"He paused, then shrugged. "Felt like doing something normal."She edged closer. "So this is your idea of normal."Elira sat opposite him. They ate in silence for a moment. The world outside held its breath, waiting in chaos, but here—at least for now, perhaps—there was a reprieve."Last night…" Caelan started.She gave a questioning brow."I meant what I sai

Elira sat on the floor, cross-legged, covered in paper.Not the love-struck kind—no love letters or dreamy epistles. These were closer to savage: spreadsheets, site proposals, volunteer schedules. She had on her glasses, an old pair she'd discovered at the bottom of her bag, and jotted revisions in the margin of printed pages.Caelan emerged from the bedroom with damp hair and two mugs. “If that’s your idea of breakfast, I’m worried.”“I already ate. Knowledge,” she said, waving a printout of a budget request like a croissant.He placed a mug beside her and sat on the couch. “You’re really doing it.”She looked up. “Doing what?”“Becoming the kind of woman people follow.”Elira exhaled, almost a scoff. “I’m just trying not to mess up their trust.”He leaned back. “Same thing.”---10:17 AM – Ferrer Foundation, Strategy OfficeCaelan watched Elira in her first official meeting. She had a pen tucked behind one ear and a lanyard she insisted on wearing like the other staff. She didn't sp

6:18 AM – Penthouse BedroomElira awoke to the gradual tug of morning. The curtains hung half-closed, allowing a flood of pale gray light. The city was still waking up.Caelan was already out of bed. His disappearance wasn't disconcerting—merely registered, like a book left closed before the final sentence.She sat up cautiously, blanket falling off her shoulder. Sheets still retained the slightest warmth of where he'd slept. On the nightstand, a neatly folded note lay.Her name in his writing.Had an early wake-up. You slept peacefully. I didn't want to take that away from you.Coffee's ready. So is today.— CShe smiled, tracing the ink with her fingers.------6:39 AM – Penthouse KitchenThe apartment was still except for the tick of the wall clock and the gentle burble of the coffee machine.Elira filled a cup for herself and rested against the counter. The scent of Caelan's arms wrapped around her last night still lingered.But this morning, another sensation existed beneath her

7:02 AM – Ferrer Foundation KitchenThe industrial kitchen was just coming to life. Early shift volunteers trickled in for coffee and hushed conversation, their murmur a gentle vibration under the fluorescent lights. But in the corner, already elbow-deep in flour, Elira stood with bare feet, hair tied back, apron streaked.She hadn't planned to bake. It just… happened.Caelan found her there, flour on her cheek and sleeves rolled high. He leaned against the doorway, taking in the sight—her hands working with confident ease, cheeks slightly pink from the oven’s heat.“You’re supposed to be the boss,” he said. “Not the breakfast crew.”She didn’t look up. “I like the silence here before the day begins. The warmth. The smell.”He came closer. “You like feeding people.”"It's the way I was raised to show concern. My Lola would say that a good meal provides the soul with a place to rest."Caelan picked up a warm roll cooling on the rack and ripped it in two, steam releasing. "So you've bee

6:11 AM – Penthouse BedroomIt was still the hue of slumber, a pale blue-gray stretching across the glass windows. Curtains moved with the breeze, scarcely perceptible, as in a held breath.Caelan woke up first—not due to the clock or out of habit, but because Elira had whispered something in her sleep. Her brow creased a little, lashes fluttering over her cheek. One of her hands was clenched in the blanket. He reached over on reflex, clearing her hair from her face, and her tension eased.She didn't wake up.He remained there a couple of minutes longer, committing to memory. The press of her against him. The tiny, reassuring details of their life together—a half-finished book on her bedside table, her glasses awry on the dresser, the smell of cinnamon and cloves still lingering in her hoodie thrown over the chair.Finally, he got up, trying not to wake her.---7:48 AM – Penthouse KitchenThe coffee maker stuttered into life. Caelan rested against the counter, drinking soundlessly, g