Lahat ng Kabanata ng Claimed By The Billionaire At The Altar : Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

ALARIC I carried Kimani up the stairs, one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back. She was light—lighter than I expected. Her head rested against my shoulder, her hair brushing my chin as she murmured something incoherent before falling quiet again. I couldn’t help the quiet laugh that slipped out. “You really don’t know how to stop causing trouble, do you?” I muttered, more to myself than to her. She didn’t answer, of course. Her breathing was slow and steady, her face peaceful. A few strands of hair stuck to her cheek, and I gently brushed them away with my thumb as I reached her door. Pushing it open with my shoulder, I stepped into her room. The scent hit me first—something floral, faintly sweet. It smelled like her. Like warmth. Like home. I walked over to the bed and carefully set her down, pulling the blanket over her. She shifted slightly, her brows knitting as if she was about to wake. But instead, she sighed softly and turned her face into the pillow. I sto

KIMANI The closer I got to the dining room, the louder my heartbeat became. Each step felt heavier, as though I were walking toward something inevitable. I paused by the doorway, smoothing the hem of my blouse, and inhaled deeply. I could do this. Just breakfast. Just Alaric. Nothing awkward. Nothing about last night. Except, of course, the moment I stepped into the room, he looked up—and smiled. That small, knowing smile of his that made my stomach flutter and my mind short-circuit all at once. “Good morning,” he said smoothly, setting down his cup of coffee. “You look… well-rested.” Liar. I was anything but. “Morning,” I replied quickly, taking the seat opposite him. “Thanks for… uh… making breakfast.” He raised a brow. “You make it sound like I cooked it myself.” I grabbed a slice of toast, focusing on buttering it like it was the most important task in the world. “Well, you could’ve. I wouldn’t know.” Silence stretched for a few seconds, filled only by the fa

KIMANI Monday came far too quickly. The weekend had been a blur, a beautiful, confusing blur filled with laughter, stolen glances, and moments that made my heart flutter more than I cared to admit. But now it was back to reality — back to being Dawn, the dutiful employee, and not Kimani, the woman who spent the weekend realizing that her husband might just be her undoing. I stretched under the soft sheets before finally dragging myself out of bed. The morning sun slipped through the curtains, casting warm streaks across the room. With a sleepy sigh, I shuffled into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and stepping under the shower. The cool water cascaded over my skin, washing away the last traces of sleep and the weekend’s lingering haze. Ten minutes later, I stepped out wrapped in a fluffy white robe, toweling my damp hair. My eyes immediately caught the neatly laid-out dress on the bed — a cream blouse paired with a pencil skirt, simple yet elegant — and beside it, my wig. My Daw

KIMANI I am in big trouble. Like, capital letters, underline it twice, bold it — TROUBLE. All afternoon, my mind was a complete mess. I barely heard anything my supervisor said during the team briefing, and I almost sent an email with “love, Kimani” instead of “best regards.” Love. I nearly died of embarrassment when I noticed. My hands were trembling so much that I had to delete it three times before it came out right. How was I supposed to focus on work when Alaric — the Alaric Walker — was texting me things like “you’re a very distracting part of my workday”? I mean, who says things like that and expects someone to function normally afterward? By the time five o’clock hit, I was a wreck. Rachel wouldn’t stop eyeing me like I had grown another head. “Alright,” she said, leaning on my desk with a grin, “what’s going on with you? You’ve been smiling at your phone all day. Did you win the lottery or something?” I froze, caught mid–email draft. “What? No! Of course n

ALARIC It had been a few days since I told Kimani that I was actually falling for her. The words had slipped out more easily than I expected, and ever since then, she’d been in my head nonstop. Every little thing she did — the way she laughed, the way she frowned when concentrating, even how she rolled her eyes at me — kept replaying in my mind like some kind of addictive loop. And that’s when it hit me. I wanted to make it official. Not just some vague, undefined “thing.” I wanted to take her out — a real date, just her and me. Something special. Something that told her she wasn’t just a passing thought or temporary comfort. There was just one problem. I had no idea how to plan a date. I could negotiate billion-dollar deals, read the market before it even shifted, and run an empire without breaking a sweat. But the thought of picking flowers, restaurants, or anything remotely “romantic”? My brain short-circuited. So, I did what any desperate man would do — I called in b