All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Cure: The Betrayed Bride : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The penthouse was quiet when they returned.Not the sterile, hollow silence of before, the kind that echoed with isolation and absence, but a softer, deeper quiet. The kind that follows a storm. The kind that settles after a moment of truth.Niles met them at the elevator, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his eyes flickered to Amara for a fraction of a second, something like approval, perhaps, or quiet relief. He took Damian’s coat, his gloves, his briefcase, all handled with the precision of a man who knew the weight of each item.Damian didn’t speak.He walked past the living room, toward his office, his steps measured, his posture rigid. But Amara saw it, the slight tremor in his hands as he removed his gloves, the way he paused before closing the door behind him, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.She stood in the center of the vast space, the city glowing beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the skyline painted in gold and violet as the sun dipped belo

The call came at 6:17 a.m. The sun hadn’t yet fully risen over the glittering expanse of downtown, but a pale, pre-dawn light was already painting the sky in shades of bruised violet and rose. Amara was awake, as she often was at this hour. The quiet hours between night and morning were her only reprieve, a fragile peace before the demands of her new life began to clamor. She answered before the second ring. Her heart, a drumbeat of anticipation, already knew what the call was about. “Mama?” Lena’s voice, usually a soothing melody, was a low, urgent hum. “They didn’t change the scene.” Amara closed her eyes. The pretense of hope she had clung to for the past twelve hours—the desperate, child-like belief that a simple request could unravel a multi-million-dollar production—dissolved. She already knew. She had known the moment Lena told her the scene had been written. “I tried, mo mi,” Lena said, her frustration a sharp crack in the line. “I went to Vance. I cited the contract,

The city blurred past the tinted windows of the black sedan, streaks of light and shadow painting the night. Rain tapped softly against the roof, a steady rhythm beneath the hum of the engine. Lena had been dropped off at her home twenty minutes ago, waving from the porch, a knowing smile on her face that made Amara's stomach do a slow, dizzying twist. Her mother could see everything she wasn't saying, and the fact that she was saying nothing at all spoke volumes.Now, it was just her and Damian. Alone. The silence was thick with everything that had happened at the set, with the memory of her jumping into his arms. She replayed the moment in her mind: his gloved hands catching her, the muffled sound of his voice, the way her heart had stuttered when he said, "I missed you too." She still couldn't believe she had done it.She turned to him, arms crossed over her chest, trying to mask the warmth she felt in her cheeks. The dim light from the streetlamps illuminated his face through the

The city had gone quiet by the time Amara turned onto the tree-lined street of her childhood. The night air was cool and smelled of damp earth and the familiar, sweet scent of gardenias. The streetlights cast a soft, yellow glow on the pavement, illuminating the old oak trees that lined the road, their branches reaching toward each other like clasped hands. This wasn't the city she inhabited now, a place of glass towers and relentless noise. This was the city she grew up in, a place that held her memories in its very foundations.The house stood just as she remembered it—white walls, blue shutters faded by years of sun, potted hibiscus by the front steps. She could see the small garden Lena still tended even in winter, a stubborn testament to her mother's will. It was a modest home, not a mansion, but it had always felt like a sanctuary. A place where love wasn’t a performance for an audience; it was a quiet, lived-in thing, as real as the wooden floorboards under her feet.She let he

The party was already alive when the car pulled up to the Apex Sky Lounge. The rooftop venue was a beacon of light, its enormous floor-to-ceiling windows blazing with a golden warmth that spilled across the night sky, illuminating the towering city below. Music pulsed—a deep, rhythmic, elegant beat—and the air vibrated with the low hum of conversation, the bright peals of laughter, and the gentle clinking of glasses. The cast, crew, producers—everyone who had lived and breathed the grueling production of Eclipse—had come to celebrate its triumphant end.Amara stood outside the trailer, a vision of quiet elegance. She was dressed in a deep emerald gown that shimmered under the harsh studio lights, its fabric clinging to her figure. Her hair was swept into a loose, artful updo, a few soft tendrils framing her face. Her makeup was subtle, her expression calm and composed, a stark contrast to the storm she had weathered.Damian stood beside her, his presence a silent counterpoint to her v