Todos os capítulos de RETURN OF MY BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

She snatched the letter from his hand and tore it to shreds, the pieces fluttering to the floor like broken promises.He didn’t flinch. Calmly, he met her eyes.“What was in the letter?”She looked away, avoiding his gaze, then climbed onto the bed, drawing her knees to her chest.“It’s just another one of Madeline’s threats,” she muttered.He joined her, the bed sinking slightly under his weight.“Threatening you about what exactly?”“Nothing special,” she said, too quickly. “Just you. And everything else.”He watched her closely, then smiled—though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I can help you get your revenge on Madeline... without you getting involved.”Her voice was firm.“This is my fight, Ethan.”There was a flicker of something raw in his eyes. Pain. Regret. Love.Tears brimmed but didn’t fall.“You can leave when it’s over, Lauren,” he said quietly. “I won’t hold you back anymore. This time... I promise.”And without waiting for a response, he stood and walked out.She sat frozen,

Caleb froze the moment he saw her.Lauren stood in the doorway, pale and trembling, her eyes wide with disbelief. The moment stretched like an eternity.He fumbled to pull his underwear back up, shame crashing over him like a wave. She staggered backward—her heel slipping on the marble floor—then turned and bolted out of the house.“Lauren!” Caleb grabbed his robe and chased after her, bare feet pounding against the stone tiles. He caught her just before she reached her car, his voice cracking.“Lauren, please—don’t go. Not like this. If you walk away without hearing me out, I swear I’ll hurt myself. I really will.”Tears shimmered in his eyes. She spun to face him, rage flaming through her expression.“How dare you, Caleb! How dare you!”“I did it because of Madeline!” he shouted, broken. “I did it because I thought I was protecting you—because of what she did to you!”“Stop lying to yourself!” she screamed, voice shaking. “You didn’t do this for me—you did it for your yourself...yo

Lauren's fingers brushed the edge of the envelope, but she didn’t take it.Instead, she looked up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “You said the authorities are returning my fashion company. How? How is that even possible?”Ethan leaned back in his seat, staring out the windshield as if gathering the right words.“It was Edith Penrose,” he said finally. “She came forward.”Lauren blinked. “Edith...?”“She’s Madeline Carter’s nanny. But more than that — she’s her legal confidant. Madeline left most of her affairs in Edith’s hands, including emergency access to her company shares, should anything happen.”Lauren’s eyes widened.Ethan continued. “According to Edith, when Madeline realized the walls were closing in around her — the murder charge, the false ownership claims, the forged board votes — she panicked. Edith said Madeline gave her verbal and written consent to reverse the transactions. All of them. The shares, the brand name, the accounts. Everything tied to the company

The aroma of roasted rosemary chicken filled the Whitmore mansion, weaving its way through the halls like a false comfort. Charlotte stood at the stove, silent but focused. Every movement was deliberate — not rushed, just careful. Now, in the kitchen, the other maids moved around her.“Is the spinach soft enough?” Madison asked, glancing at the delicate salmon fillet.Charlotte nodded. “You are doing well Madison.”Edna handed over the warm mashed sweet potatoes. “Iron-rich, like you said.”“She needs it,” Charlotte murmured. “Even if she doesn't want it.”By the time the table was set, the evening had turned cool. The long dining hall echoed with the clinks of silverware as the maids placed the dishes: a golden roast chicken for Pearl, a balanced vegetable side, and Lauren’s plate — simple, soft, rich in what she needed most.Lauren sat down last. Her eyes were tired, distant, her body wrapped in one of Charlotte’s heavier shawls. She didn’t speak. She hadn’t, not much, since the l

Two weeks had passed since the fire. Investigators were still working day and night. No body had been officially identified, but the signs pointed to Guinevere Cross. Her necklace had been found in the ashes, along with a dress she was last seen wearing. But something didn’t feel right to FBI Agent Marcus Reed. “There’s no body, no dental records, just melted jewelry and some burnt fabric,” he told his team. “That’s not enough.”He ordered a deeper scan of the scene. A heat-sensor drone image from the night of the fire had been dismissed earlier — it showed a single figure running from the back of the mansion, but the image was too dark to confirm who it was.This time, they enhanced it.The figure had Guinevere’s height. Same build. Same limp from a past ankle injury.“She escaped,” Marcus said slowly. “Someone helped her.”. ***Madeline sat at the cold metal table, her hands trembling but her eyes sharp.Agent Reed, walked in holding a folder.“We found out something impo