บททั้งหมดของ Married To My Arrogant Billionaire Enemy : บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

BROOKLYN The house had finally gone quiet.Elliot’s laughter, which had filled the halls only an hour ago, had faded into soft breathing behind his bedroom door. The faint sound of the rain outside brushed against the windows, steady and low. It was one of those nights where the air felt heavier — not stormy, just… full.I leaned against the kitchen counter, the dull ache of my burned hand pulsing beneath the fresh bandage. The scent of tomato sauce still lingered in the air, mixed with the faint warmth of garlic and bread. Dinner had gone well enough — at least on the surface. Elliot had eaten until his plate was clean, babbling about school and video games and some new comic he’d discovered, while Dominic sat across from him, quietly listening, occasionally asking small questions.Almost like a father would.The thought made my chest tighten.Because that wasn’t what this was. None of this was supposed to be real.And yet, as I watched Dominic now — his tall frame leaning against t

BROOKLYN⸻I didn’t sleep.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes of last night—the lights of the gala, Ethan’s smile, the way his hand brushed mine. It wasn’t inappropriate, not really, but it lingered in my mind like a bruise. I’d only meant to be polite, to survive the night without making a fool of myself.But my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.It started around six in the morning—notifications, messages, missed calls. Riley, Camila, even an unknown number. I tried to ignore them, but curiosity gnawed until I gave in.The first headline hit me like a truck.“Billionaire Dominic Blackwell’s Wife Spotted in ‘Too Close’ Exchange with Colleague.”“Brooklyn Blackwell Slips Confidential Details About Upcoming Merger at Charity Gala.”My stomach dropped.The photos weren’t flattering. Ethan and I standing too close, me laughing, his hand mid-gesture as if brushing against mine. And my expression—soft, distracted—looked exactly like someone enjoying attention she shouldn’t be.I dropped

DOMINICShe turned her face away, but not before I saw the tears gathering in her eyes — and the fury underneath them.For the first time since this morning, she didn’t look broken.She looked done.“You don’t get to tell me not to disappear,” she said quietly, the words shaking, but there was steel underneath. “You already made me invisible the moment you opened your mouth.”“Brooklyn—”“No.” Her voice cracked, but she pushed through it. “Don’t say my name like that. You don’t get to sound soft now.”The words hit harder than any headline ever could.I swallowed, my throat burning. “You don’t understand—”“I do understand,” she snapped, cutting me off for the first time. “You thought I did it. You thought I embarrassed you, leaked your precious secrets, flirted with another man just to make you look small. You didn’t even ask me what happened. You just decided.”She took a step closer, her eyes locking on mine. “So tell me, Dominic—what exactly made you think I was capable of that?”

DOMINICMorning came, but it didn’t feel like one.I hadn’t slept. Not really.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her — Brooklyn — standing there last night, her face crumbling in silence after the words I’d thrown at her.You’re nothing without the name I gave you.I’d said worse things in business.But never something that felt like it tore through me the moment it left my mouth.The house was quiet now, unnervingly so. Usually, there’d be the faint hum of the espresso machine, or Elliot’s cartoons playing in the background. But this morning… nothing.I left my office around eight, my head pounding from the whiskey and the guilt I refused to name. The smell of coffee drifted down the hall, pulling me toward the kitchen before I could think twice.And then I stopped at the doorway.Brooklyn was there.Her hair was loose, slightly messy — not in the way it used to be when she cared, but in that defeated, sleepless way that said she hadn’t even tried this morning. She was sitting acros

DOMINICIt had been three days since that night.Three days since she cried in my arms.Three days since she stopped fighting me—but hadn’t quite forgiven me either.We weren’t the same. But we weren’t strangers anymore.Now, the silence between us didn’t feel like ice. It felt… heavy. Careful. Like neither of us wanted to break whatever fragile truce we’d built.She’d stopped avoiding me, though.That was something.We ate breakfast together that morning—quietly, politely, with Elliot filling most of the silence. He’d asked about the gala that night, excited about seeing “famous people” and “fancy clothes,” and Brooklyn had smiled for the first time in days. It wasn’t much. But it was enough to make the room feel a little less cold.By the time afternoon came, the house was alive with motion—stylists, event staff, security teams checking their comms. The gala was supposed to be my company’s statement to the world: a reassurance that Blackwell Industries was unshaken. Untouched.A lie