All Chapters of His Billion-Dollar Secret: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Amara’s POVPeace wasn’t what Amara expected.It didn’t come with fireworks or grand declarations — just quiet mornings and softer nights.Three months after the accident, life had settled into a rhythm that almost felt normal. She’d wake up to the smell of coffee drifting through Damian’s apartment — too strong, always too strong — and he’d insist he needed it to survive another board meeting. They’d share breakfast by the window, the skyline spilling gold across the glass towers, pretending, just for a while, that the world outside didn’t exist.He’d ask how she was sleeping, if her back still hurt from therapy, if she wanted him to drive her to work.She’d roll her eyes and tell him she could walk just fine now.It was their kind of domestic — quiet, fragile, unspoken.At Cruz Holdings, their partnership had evolved into something balanced. Damian had learned to listen. He didn’t dominate meetings anymore — he’d lean back, hands clasped, and let her speak. The sharp, commanding CEO

Damian’s POV He hated coming here. The Cruz Family Estate Office sat on the 30th floor of an old downtown building — all glass, marble, and silence. It smelled like polished wood and money, the kind of place that worshiped legacy like it was law. The kind of place his father had adored. Damian hadn’t stepped inside for months. But now, standing in the lobby surrounded by portraits of past generations — men with sharp suits and sharper eyes — there was no avoiding it anymore. He was here to end something. Or at least try to. “Mr. Cruz,” said the receptionist in a smooth, practiced tone. “Mr. Alden will see you now.” Damian nodded and entered the office. Harold Alden, his father’s longtime estate lawyer, was waiting behind a mahogany desk. Gray hair, gold watch, the calm detachment of a man who’d spent decades translating greed into paperwork. “Da

Amara’s POVThe penthouse felt colder that night — too still, too perfect, as if the truth had stolen all the warmth from the air.Amara stood by the tall windows, the city lights stretching out beneath her like a map of everything she no longer recognized. Behind her, the door clicked open. Damian’s footsteps crossed the marble — steady, familiar, dangerous in their calm.She didn’t turn around.“You’re home early.” he said carefully.“So are you.” Her voice was quiet, steady. “Or maybe you never left.”A pause — sharp, heavy. Then: “Amara… what’s going on?”She turned, the folder in her hand — that folder — the one she’d found hidden behind his locked cabinet that afternoon. The gold Cruz family insignia glinted under the light. Confidential: Estate Clause 7B.“I was looking for the event contracts,” she said. “This fell out.”Damian froze. Completely. The stillness of a man who realized his secret wa

Damian’s POVThe boardroom was already packed when Damian walked in — sharp suits, sharper whispers, tension so thick it buzzed under the skin.Cameras were lined up along the wall, waiting for the press conference the company had tried—and failed—to contain.He didn’t sit. Not yet.Beyond the glass walls, the city glittered under the first light of dawn. Towers stretched toward the sky — the empire his family had built. Fragile. Beautiful. Temporary.“Mr. Cruz,” one of the senior board members began, voice stiff. “Before you proceed, we need to discuss the implications of your—”“I know exactly what I’m doing.” Damian said, adjusting his tie — mostly to steady his shaking hands.The room fell quiet, the hum of unease spreading like static.Across the table, Lydia caught his gaze. She didn’t try to stop him. She only gave the smallest nod — because she knew this wasn’t about business anymore.This was about freedom.---He stepped up to the podium.The sound of camera shutters filled

Damian’s POVThe city was quieter at night — its pulse slower, softer, like it was finally catching its breath. Through the fog, towers shimmered in muted gold, their windows reflecting the ghosts of old ambitions.Cruz Holdings stood among them — tall, cold, immaculate. For years, Damian had looked at that building and felt power. Pride. Ownership.Tonight, as he stood outside the small foundation office instead, all he felt was humility.He’d spent his whole life chasing power, shaping himself around it, guarding it like armor.Now, stripped of it — stripped of the Cruz name and the weight it carried — he finally felt free.Through the glass, he saw her.Amara.Her silhouette was framed by the faint blue glow of her laptop, shoulders tense, hair loose, eyes locked on the screen. It was past midnight, but she was still working. Still fighting. She hadn’t noticed him yet — and maybe that was good. He needed a second to br