All Chapters of Between Her Shithead And The Wrong Brother : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Ariella’s POVHe arrived before sunrise. The office was silent. Damon sat still for a couple of seconds, neglecting the heap of papers on his desk. I walked in, untouched by Damon, who was seemingly lost in thought. When he saw me, he trembled.He’d been working through nights again. Reports piled, half-sorted. He pressed his chest once, quietly. I looked away.The meeting started at nine. His tone was steady. Halfway through, he paused, in silence, then recovered. His hand stayed clenched on the table until the end.When everyone left, I stayed. “You should rest.”“I’m fine,” he said, signing the same page twice.“Damon!”“Lack of sleep,” he cut in.From my office, I watched him move more slowly, rhythm broken. I remembered the last time he ignored warning signs. By noon, details blurred. Instructions repeated. Files misplaced. Staff whispered. I covered the gaps quietly. “You see?” he said weakly, still standing.I took a look at him again and retorted. "You look worried." He didn

Ariella’sThe first week after Damon’s diagnosis was silent on the surface, but movement pulsed underneath. Board members started asking subtle questions through emails marked “routine.” Isabella was the first. Her message sounded polite, concern disguised as inquiry. She wanted an updated financial breakdown signed by Damon directly. It wasn’t standard protocol. I replied within minutes, attaching a summary I’d already vetted and signing his authorization line myself. The chain ended there, but the intent was noted.Sasha followed days later. She requested to “review transition procedures” in case of unexpected absences. I saw through the phrasing. She wasn’t asking; she was measuring the distance between authority and vulnerability. I forwarded the message to Damon’s secure folder, marked confidential, and responded with, “No transition required. Mr. Gray remains in charge.” Her reply came with one word: “Understood.” It wasn’t reassurance; it was acknowledgment of a new fault line

Ariella’s POVDamon’s seat. The others noticed but said nothing. Papers rustled. Phones blinked. A few faces tried to read mine. I placed my folder down. “Let’s begin.” No one spoke. Then Mr. Verden leaned forward, voice polite. “For clarity, are you presiding today?”“Yes.”“Under what authorization?”I slid a document across the table. Damon’s signature. The legal clause beneath. No more questions. Mrs. Halden’s smile was thin. “We appreciate your… dedication. But some of us worry emotion may cloud decision-making in these times.”“Noted.” I turned a page. “Finance first. Q3 reports show stabilization. Debt exposure is down eight percent. The client's hold with Garvis Group is resolved.” No one interrupted. The report continued. Numbers, updates, corrections. No softness in my tone. Halfway through, a vibration on my tablet. A short message. Stay measured. You’re doing fine.Damon.I didn’t look up. My voice steadied further. “Next, supply division, adjustments already approved by t

Damon’s POVI returned late, carrying the exhaustion of too many silent battles. Ariella was in the living room, reviewing files she hadn’t been asked to handle. I paused at the doorway, watching her with quiet precision. I closed my eyes, and lots of thoughts pumped into my head. When I opened my eyes, I walked and sat across from her, and forced a smile on my face. The rustle of papers filled the silence. She looked up briefly, nodded once, and continued. There was no tension between us, only a rhythm shaped by endurance. That rhythm steadied me more than rest could.My mother arrived without notice. She had been visiting often since my illness, bringing calm, and neither of us rejected. Ariella stood, offered tea, but my mother waved it off and sat beside me. “You look better,” she said softly. I nodded, knowing she saw past surface recovery.Her gaze shifted to Ariella, full of gratitude instead of judgment. She had witnessed loyalty when the company was at risk. “You kept thin

Damon’s POV.The return felt quieter than expected. I stepped into the boardroom without ceremony, but every gaze carried weight. Ariella walked beside me, calm and unshaken, and that alone shifted the balance in the room. The silence that followed was not absence of sound but acknowledgment of change.The meeting began with formality. Reports were read, updates presented, and numbers aligned in neat projections. When I finally spoke, the words came measured but steady. I thanked the team for their resilience, for keeping the company steady through uncertainty. Then I turned to Ariella, and the room stilled again.I said she had carried the institution when I could not. No one interrupted. When I ended with, “We lead together now,” the message became irreversible.Ariella took her seat at the table as my equal, not my substitute. The board understood it without words. Power, once solitary, had become shared.She asked if I was certain about public disclosure regarding my illness. I to