All Chapters of TAMING THE BILLIONAIRE; My Brother's Best Friend : Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

Aaron's pov I didn’t let out the breath I’d been holding until long after Ethan and Mandy disappeared down the corridor. The echo of the metal door slamming shut behind them felt like a fist closing around my lungs. I sat there for a few seconds, staring at the empty spot where Ethan had been standing, before the tightness in my chest finally loosened… only to constrict again.He was getting married.The words kept replaying, over and over, slamming into me like a hammer. I didn’t even realize I was gripping the edge of the table until my fingertips began to go numb.Ethan deserved someone better, someone untouched by his mistakes and corruption, someone who hadn’t dragged their own company into the jaws of a monster like Benson. Ethan deserved someone whose future wasn’t built on quicksand.But still… I couldn't help the ache I felt in my chest.Some part of me—some stupid, romantic, broken part—had thought Ethan would wait for me. That maybe, by some miracle, he’d still be there on

ONE MONTH LATER* Aaron’s POVThese last few days had been hell.Pure, undiluted hell.I hadn’t slept properly. I hadn’t eaten properly. My thoughts kept running in circles until they burned themselves into ash and started all over again.Sell the company.Don’t sell the company.Save it.Burn it.Start again.Lose everything.Win everything back.On and on, endlessly.I didn’t know whether to thank Rick or strangle him for planting the idea in my head.“Sell it,” he had said casually, like he was suggesting I shave my beard or fold my blanket differently. “Investors will flock to it. Everyone loves a comeback story. Besides… what do you have to lose?”What do I have to lose?Everything.Warner Industries was all I had left of the life I built before everything went to hell.But the truth was bitter and sharpEvery idea I’d tried to sketch out on the damn prison-issue paper — every strategy, every restructuring plan, every potential pitch — all of them fell flat. Dead ends across ever

Ethan’s POVThe next few weeks passed in a blur, the kind that fills your chest and makes everything seem just a little surreal. Cake tastings ,event organizing that turned my brain into spreadsheets, souvenir bags piling in the living room like Santa's workshop. I couldn’t even pretend I wasn’t excited.Somewhere between choosing napkin colors and comparing chair fabrics, the whole thing dawned on me—I was actually getting married. To Alex. In a matter of days.And there was no reason to panic. Right?He was a good man. A steady one. He cared for me. I kept telling myself that. Repeating it until the words slid into place like puzzle pieces I wasn’t sure fit, but I made them fit anyway.Sometimes, late at night, the memory of handing in my resignation floated back to me—Connor’s face, the heaviness in my chest afterward—but I pushed it away. Alex had his reasons. Couples were supposed to compromise. Agree on things. Follow each other’s lead. That’s what I kept telling myself.And s

Ethan’s POVI never expected that the reception would fly by this fast.One moment I was cutting cake with Alex—his hand steady on mine, smiling like he’d won the universe—then the next, people were hugging us, taking pictures, clinking glasses, and pulling us into conversations I couldn’t register.But I guess that’s what being married felt like.Surreal. Soft. Dizzying in a sweet way.Alex never let go of my hand. Not once. Every time I glanced at him, he looked like he was taking in every second—memorizing my face, my smile, every breath. He looked proud. He looked… in love.He had introduced me to random relatives I couldn’t keep track of, laughing as he said, “This is my husband,” every time.My husband.Every time those words passed his lips, my chest tightened in a way I couldn't name. Warm, fuzzy, strange, heavy, fluttery. All at the same time.By the time we were ushered into the car that would take us to the hotel, my cheeks hurt from smiling. My legs hurt from standing. But

Aaron’s POVDinner started around the time the clock blinked 5:59 p.m., but it felt like time had stopped entirely. The house buzzed louder than it ever had in my entire childhood. The dining table wasn’t enough, so they’d brought in two long folding tables and at least fourteen extra chairs from some rental company. People were squeezing in elbow-to-elbow, talking over one another, laughing, passing plates, setting napkins, pulling each other into hugs.It was… overwhelming.Beautifully overwhelming.Every face I had loved, hurt, lost, gained, broken ties with, repaired ties with—every part of the strange, brutal, messy last seven years of my life—was here. In one room. Under one roof. For me.But even with all those faces, all that warmth, there was one pair of eyes I kept meeting again and again.Ethan’s.Every time our eyes touched, something inside my chest expanded painfully, like my rib cage needed to grow bigger to hold feelings I’d spent years trying to kill. And then, just