บททั้งหมดของ MARRIED TO MY ENEMY’S BILLIONAIRE BROTHER: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The morning sun filtered softly through the Vale mansion, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside me. Damien had already left for a series of meetings, his presence lingering like a shadow I couldn’t escape.I scrolled through social media, dreading what I would find. The gala photos had spread even further than last night. Every post, every comment seemed designed to humiliate Ethan and assert Damien’s “ownership” of me.“Clara Hayes looks dazzling in the Vale Gala—Damien Vale is not letting anyone forget she’s his.”“Ethan Vale must be furious. This is ruthless.”“Are they actually in love or is Damien just a genius manipulator?”I groaned and tossed my phone onto the couch. I couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed, flustered, or quietly pleased. Probably all three.By late morning, Damien returned—looking as composed and commanding as ever. He didn’t acknowledge the mountain of news alerts waiting for me. Instead, he leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed,

The mansion felt different after Ethan’s visit. Every room hummed with an unspoken tension, as if the walls themselves had overheard the confrontation and now waited for the next explosion.I kept to myself most of the day, avoiding Damien. But of course, Damien never tolerated avoidance for long.By evening, he appeared in my room uninvited, his presence filling the space like gravity itself.“You’ve been hiding,” he said, his tone almost casual, though his eyes told a sharper story.“I needed space,” I replied quietly.“You don’t get space,” he countered, stepping closer. “Not from me.”I stood my ground. “Damien, this can’t keep going. Ethan—”He cut me off with a low laugh, dark and unamused. “Ethan doesn’t get to decide what happens between us. Neither do the papers. Neither does anyone else. Just you. And me.”The words “just you and me” sent a shiver through me. I hated that part of me wanted to believe him.He leaned closer, close enough that his cologne wrapped around me, int

The gala kiss had been a spectacle.But Damien wasn’t finished making me his performance.The following week, he announced—without consulting me—that there would be a charity ball held in my name.Not ours. Not his. Mine.“People love a tragic story with a polished ending,” he told me smoothly as the seamstress pinned fabric at my waist. “The orphan saved by a powerful man. The perfect charity face. You’ll thank me when the world adores you.”I didn’t answer. My silence was my only rebellion.But Damien thrived on silence—he filled it with his own narrative, his own control.The night of the ball, I felt like a doll wrapped in diamonds and silk. Every step echoed like a sentence in a story I hadn’t written.Ethan was there, of course. He stood at the edge of the ballroom like a shadow carved in defiance, watching every move Damien made.Our eyes met once across the glittering hall.And that one look nearly unraveled me.Halfway through the night, Damien leaned close, his lips brushing

The courtyard felt smaller with every passing second, the stone walls pressing in like a cage. The air carried that electric heaviness, the kind that comes before a storm.Damien’s men formed a circle around us, shadows with sharp edges. Their faces were unreadable, but their stance screamed loyalty. Every single one of them would bleed for Damien without hesitation.Ethan kept me shielded behind him, his body tense, his jaw tight. I felt the heat radiating off him—rage, fear, determination all tangled into one.“You’re not taking her back,” Ethan spat. His voice was low, dangerous. “Not this time.”Damien chuckled, slow and deliberate, the kind of laugh that sliced more than it soothed. “Oh, Ethan. You still haven’t learned. Clara doesn’t belong to you. She never did.”His eyes slid to me, sharp enough to pierce through bone. “She’s mine. Every breath she takes, every step she makes—mine.”My stomach twisted.Ethan’s grip on my hand tightened. He whispered without looking at me, “Whe

The courtyard air was thick, choking, like the storm had seeped into my lungs. My words still echoed against the stone walls: Tonight, I choose for myself.For a heartbeat, no one moved. The silence was more terrifying than the fight.Then I stepped back. One step. Another. My heels clicked against the stone, small sounds swallowed by the weight of their stares.I turned toward the gates. My hands were shaking, but my voice—when it came—was steady. “I’m leaving.”It was like a spark to dry kindling.Ethan staggered forward despite his broken ribs, his voice raw. “Clara, wait. You can’t just walk away—you’ll be destroyed out there. You need me.”I froze. My heart twisted, but I forced myself to keep walking.Then Damien’s laugh—low, bitter, cutting—sliced through the night. “Destroyed out there? She’ll be destroyed right here.” His voice turned cold, every word dipped in venom. “You think you’re strong enough to walk away from me, Clara? Go ahead. But don’t come crawling back when the