All Chapters of The Billionaire's secret baby bride : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The city had grown quieter than usual, but I could feel the pulse of it beneath my skin. Even in darkness, even in silence, it spoke—of fear, of defiance, of those foolish enough to test me again. I was no stranger to danger. I thrived on it. And tonight, the danger had a face, and I intended to make it pay.The ambush on the road had left a taste in my mouth, a reminder that no one could be trusted, not entirely. Every move had to be calculated, every strike measured—but the violence itself would be unrestrained when the time came. My men moved with me like extensions of my will, but I wasn’t content to let them handle it all. This was personal. Every rival, every coward who thought they could touch what was mine, would feel my hands on their throats, the weight of retribution in every blow.The streets were empty as we drove, the van’s engine a soft growl beneath the hush of night. My men were silent, their eyes sharp, their muscles coiled. They had seen what I had done in the wareh

The city didn’t sleep. Not truly. Even in the dead of night, its veins pulsed with secrets, whispers, and ambitions that could either topple empires or build them. I knew it. Every alley, every shadowed corner, every glance in the darkness spoke of those who dared challenge me. And tonight, someone had.I sat in the car outside the abandoned warehouse district, the hum of the engine a quiet companion. My men were ready, silent and efficient, eyes scanning every corner, fingers brushing the weapons strapped to their belts. I didn’t need their words; their presence was reassurance, a shadowed extension of my will.My hand rested lightly on the hilt of the dagger at my thigh. I didn’t anticipate needing it, yet I kept it close, a reminder that the world didn’t bend to reason—it bent to action.“Sir,” one of my men murmured, his voice low, “the informant confirmed movement inside. Three unknowns. No identification.”I exhaled slowly, analyzing. Three? Small, but that could mean an ambush,

(Alexander’s POV)The mansion was too quiet. Not the silence of peace, but the silence that comes after blood has been spilled, when men lower their voices out of respect—or fear. My hands were scrubbed clean, but the faint burn of the night’s violence clung to me. No amount of water could wash away the memory of what I’d done.Yet what stayed with me most wasn’t the faces of the men who had begged for mercy. It wasn’t the heat of blood on my knuckles or the stench of death clinging to my clothes.It was Isabella.Her eyes when she looked at me—wide, stormed with fear, threaded with something else she probably hated herself for. Desire. A need she didn’t understand. I had kissed her, desperate, consuming, and she hadn’t pulled away. She’d let me taste her fear, her uncertainty, and the truth of it all gnawed at me.For the first time in years, I wondered if I was losing control.I lit a cigarette and leaned against the window of my private study, staring into the night. Smoke curled i

The night before the storm always carried a strange silence inside the mansion. The guards patrolled, their boots echoing on the marble floors, but the air itself felt heavier—as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible waited for us beyond the gates. Alexander’s vow echoed inside me, a promise that burned like fire: “Tomorrow we will finish this.”I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust in the steel in his voice, the certainty in his eyes. But deep down, fear gnawed at me. Because the shadows weren’t only outside—they had begun to creep inside these walls too.From my window, I watched the courtyard below. Unfamiliar men moved among the guards—faces I didn’t recognize. They carried themselves with the same lethal poise as Alexander’s men, but there was something colder in their eyes. Recruits, he’d said earlier. Reinforcements. Yet I felt no comfort in their presence. If anything, their silence unsettled me more.When

The mansion still smelled of smoke and iron. The ambush had left scars in the marble floors, bullet holes etched into doorframes, and an invisible heaviness in the air that Isabella could not shake. I had vowed no one would ever breach my home, yet the enemy had stepped through its gates, dragging shadows into my walls. I should have seen it coming. I should have protected her better.Now, the blood on my hands was not enough to silence the storm brewing inside me.---The night was cold, the kind of cold that seeped beneath the skin, bone-deep and biting. I stood in the cellar beneath the east wing, where the walls were thick enough to drown out screams. My men lingered in the shadows, waiting for my word.Before me, tied to a steel chair, sat one of the rats we had pulled from the wreckage of the ambush. His lip was split, one eye swollen shut, but there was still defiance flickering behind the bruises. A fool’s kind of courage.I crouched in front of him, keeping my voice low, stea