Semua Bab Married To My Arrogant Billionaire Enemy : Bab 61 - Bab 70

BROOKLYN The morning felt like it was holding its breath.The mansion, usually filled with faint sounds — the hum of distant footsteps, the soft clatter of dishes from the kitchen — was silent. Too silent. It was the kind of silence that came after destruction, when everyone was afraid to make the first sound that might wake the storm again.My eyes were swollen, gritty from the night I didn’t sleep. Every time I closed them, I saw Dominic’s face — the anger twisting through his expression, the venom in his voice when he’d said those words I couldn’t forget.“Isabelle cheated on me… I don’t want history to repeat itself.”The words lingered— a quiet echo that felt heavier than a shout.I knew she’d cheated. Probably everyone in his circle did. But I never realized the shadow she left behind was this deep — still haunting him, still bleeding into everything he touched. And now, she’d been thrown into my face — like a wound I didn’t cause but was somehow expected to feel guilty for reo

BROOKLYN The clock read a little past 2 a.m. when I gave up on sleep.The house was dead quiet — the kind of quiet that made every thought louder.My throat was dry, the water jug on my nightstand empty. Normally, I’d ignore it, but my head throbbed from too much thinking and not enough peace. Elliot was asleep down the hall, a soft snore humming through the half-open door.I slipped out, the wooden floor cold against my feet. The hall stretched ahead, dim and endless, moonlight spilling through the tall windows.Halfway down the stairs, I caught the faintest sound — a scrape of porcelain, the low hum of someone breathing.When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, the faint smell of coffee hit first. Then I saw him.Dominic.He was sitting at the counter, half-turned away from me, the faint glow from the coffee machine outlining his profile. No lights on. No sound but the faint drip of the machine and the steady rhythm of his breathing.For a second, I thought about turning back —

DOMINICThe house was quiet when I came back.Too quiet.Elliot had fallen asleep in the car on the way back from the park, his head tilted toward the window, his fingers still wrapped around the last bite of a chocolate croissant. Mr. Alcott had carried him upstairs when we returned, and now, the only sound that filled the hall was the tick of the grandfather clock near the staircase.It was the kind of silence that used to calm me.Today, it didn’t.I walked into my study, the smell of coffee still lingering faintly from earlier that morning. There were files scattered across the desk — reports from Hayes about Coleman’s interrogation, security updates, contracts waiting for signatures. All reminders of the world I controlled flawlessly… except for the one thing that now refused to fit inside my carefully built order.Brooklyn.Her faith in me might be a normal occurrence for some people.But for me, it had felt like something I hadn’t heard in years.Care.Real care.I sat behind th

DOMINICThe smell of coffee had been in the air long before the sun came up. I’d been awake since four.There were nights when sleep simply refused to come, and this was one of them. The clock kept ticking, but my mind wouldn’t stop moving — cycling through every report, every headline draft, every goddamn contingency that might come back to bite me if I didn’t stay ahead.Now, morning light was spilling across my desk in thin stripes. The city outside my window was already alive — cars moving, people starting their days. Inside the house, it was still quiet.Almost.I could hear Elliot’s voice faintly down the hall, calling for Mr. Alcott. The boy was awake, getting ready for school. I’d told the driver to be ready at eight sharp. Routine mattered. It kept things steady — for him, for her, for me.I needed steady.My phone buzzed on the desk. Another message from Legal. Another half-disaster to handle.I answered it quickly, keeping my voice even. “Yes. Have the report sent directly

DOMINICSleep didn’t come easily.Not that it ever really did — but last night, it was worse. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her standing in that kitchen again.The way she looked at me.The way she didn’t look back when she walked away.By the time dawn crept in, I’d already given up on rest entirely. The city was gray and quiet through the window — the kind of morning that felt suspended in time.Elliot’s voice drifted faintly from the hallway — cheerful, as always — followed by Mr. Alcott’s steady tone. Then the sound of the front door opening and closing, footsteps fading, a car engine starting.And then there was silence again.I stood at the edge of the bed, running a hand down my face. My head throbbed from lack of sleep. My shirt clung faintly to my back — wrinkled, same one I’d worn since last night.Brooklyn hadn’t said a word to me since yesterday morning. Not one.She’d stayed in her room all day, avoiding meals, avoiding me. The only sign she was even still here was t