Semua Bab Flash Marriage To The Billionaire CEO : Bab 11 - Bab 19

The Royal Empire Hotel ballroom glowed beneath crystal chandeliers, a stage set for the elite of the film industry. Adrian Blackwell’s annual entertainment gala was always the highlight of the season — a night where careers were made, investments were sealed, and every ambitious actress dreamed of catching his eye.Elena adjusted the strap of her understated gown in the limousine, deliberately choosing something elegant but muted. The champagne silk clung gracefully to her figure but had no designer label to flaunt — at least, not one anyone could recognize. If anyone expected her to arrive dripping in jewels, she was happy to disappoint them. Attention was the last thing she wanted tonight.Adrian stepped out first, sleek and commanding in a tailored black suit. The moment he appeared, photographers went wild, shouting his name. When he offered his hand, Elena took it lightly, stepping into the storm of flashbulbs.“Mr. Blackwell! Mrs. Blackwell! Is this your first gala together?”“M

The next morning, Elena woke to an unfamiliar quiet. No brisk footsteps in the corridor, no low murmur of Adrian’s voice barking orders over an early call. The mansion felt oddly still, and for a man as obsessive with routine as Adrian Blackwell, that silence was wrong.A strange weight pressed on her chest as she slipped from her room and padded barefoot down the hall. The door to his suite was ajar, a sliver of light cutting across the polished floor. She pushed it open.Her breath caught.Adrian lay in bed, sheets rumpled, his usually sharp features dulled. He looked pale, exhausted, almost fragile — words she never thought could belong to him.“Adrian?” she whispered, stepping inside.His eyes cracked open, gray and clouded. “Elena,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t be here.”“That’s my line.” She crossed to the bed, ignoring his glare. “What’s wrong with you?”“Nothing you need to worry about.” He tried to sit up, but the motion drew a faint wince, quickly masked.Before s

Adrian Blackwell did not linger in bed. Not ever. His mornings were efficient—up before dawn, showered, suited, and gone before the mansion had even begun to stir. Yet that morning, he found himself rooted by the window, the glow of the rising sun slipping past the glass as though mocking him. He had slept. Not the restless, fractured naps he had trained himself to survive on. Not the medicated, shallow dozing that left him fogged and irritable. Real sleep. Nine uninterrupted hours of silence, darkness, and peace. His hand clenched loosely around the edge of the curtain as his mind replayed the moment he had woken up. The sheets still warm. The faintest trace of her perfume clinging to the air. And most damning of all—his head had been resting against Elena’s chest, her soft rhythm of breathing having lulled him through the night. His jaw tightened. He didn’t like the realization. He couldn’t. Elena Blackwell was chaos in s

The Blackwell Tower stood tall against the late afternoon sky, its steel and glass gleaming like a fortress of power. Inside the topmost floor, the atmosphere was far less pristine. Papers cluttered Adrian’s desk, contracts still unsigned, his phone buzzing with endless notifications.Adrian Blackwell sat rigid in his leather chair, staring at the glowing screen in front of him but hardly reading the numbers. His temples throbbed, a steady ache that had become his constant companion. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, ignoring the way the letters blurred in and out of focus.He had gone three nights in a row with barely two hours of sleep. The brunch, the endless meetings, the weight of decisions only he could make—it pressed on him like an iron cage.His hand tightened on his pen, then slipped.A sharp crack split the silence as the pen clattered to the floor. Adrian pushed back his chair, intending to stand, but the room tilted violently. His chest tightened. His vision tunneled.The