The Billionaire's Legal Wife 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 21 - 챕터 30

The rain hadn’t stopped since afternoon. It came down in relentless sheets, tapping against the glass walls of Celine’s apartment. Outside, the city blurred into a haze of neon and water—just lights and ghosts moving through the storm. Inside, she sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, staring at nothing. Her head had been aching for hours. It wasn’t the kind of pain that medicine could fix—it pulsed deeper, crawling through her mind like something trying to claw its way out. She pressed her palms against her temples, breathing shakily. “Stop…” she whispered, though she didn’t know who she was talking to—herself, or the voices screaming in fragments inside her skull. Then it came again—sharp, like a flash of lightning. A scream, burning rubber, a man shouting for help. The metallic screech of a car spinning out of control. Celine jerked forward, gasping. Her chest tightened as if she were drowning. The sound of rain turned deafening, echoing like the storm from that night—that n

The Palais Garnier glimmered in the heart of Paris that night. Ashley Larsen stood near the runway arch, trying to keep her breath steady. Her collection—her first major showcase—had just walked the stage. Applause still in her ears, but her hands trembled as if she’d only imagined it. She didn’t belong here. Not among the world-renowned designers and billionaires draped in imported silk. Her atelier back home was small, her success borrowed through long nights and cheap coffee. Yet tonight, her designs had made the audience pause. That was something. She took a quiet sip of champagne, watching guests cluster in gilded groups. A few praised her work; others merely smiled politely before moving on. Still, she managed to smile back—it was better to pretend she fit in. “Ashley..." The voice was smooth—low and composed, yet effortlessly commanding. Ashley turned, startled. Standing before her was a man who looked like he’d walked out of an editorial spread—broad-shouldered, i

The meeting room gleamed with glass and power. Duke Austen sat at the head of the table, jacket tossed over his chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His assistant was mid-report when his phone lit up—Ashley Larsen Austen: Paris Fashion Gala – Final Lineup Confirmed. His fingers froze above the screen. He knows that he needs to be there for his wife no matter what. “Sir?” his assistant prompted. “Reschedule the merger presentation,” Duke said curtly. “Sir, it’s with the Harper Group—” “I said reschedule.” His voice cut sharp, final. Across the room, Alexandra Harper’s eyes lifted. She’d been leaning against the glass wall, her smile tightening at the edges. “You’re canceling our meeting, Duke?” He didn’t look at her. “Postponing. There’s something more important tonight.” Her laugh was low, disbelieving. “Something—or someone, is it your wife again?” Duke ignored her and rose, buttoning his jacket. “That’ll be all for today.” The boardroom emptied. Only Alexandra s

Parking basement of Austen Holdings, late evening. Ashley Larsen’s heels clicked against the concrete floor of the parking basement. Her portfolio pressed firmly against her chest, she tried to steady her racing heartbeat. The argument with Duke yesterday still stung, a raw edge that made every thought of him prick at her chest. She reminded herself, over and over, that tonight was professional. A meeting with an investor he himself had encouraged. Nothing more. Nothing personal. She spotted him immediately—an older man in a tailored suit, holding a sleek briefcase and a polite smile. His eyes flicked toward her, approving, and she nodded, forcing her own composure. “Evening,” she said, setting her portfolio down on the hood of his car. “I brought the samples you requested. Hope they meet your expectations.” “I’ve been eager to see your progress,” he replied, gesturing toward the hood. “Let’s go over the details.” Ashley unzipped the portfolio, revealing neatly folded fabric swat

“Good morning, Mrs. Austen.” The receptionist’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. Ashley felt the shift immediately—like walking into a room where someone had just whispered her name. The air inside Austen Holdings was different today, thicker, charged with something she couldn’t name yet. She straightened her blazer, exhaled slowly, and walked down the hallway lined with glass offices. Her heels clicked softly on the floors—normally a comforting sound—but today it only emphasized how quiet people became the moment she passed. Two junior designers near the lounge didn’t even bother lowering their voices. “Did you see the article?” “Of course. Hotel meeting at midnight? Suspicious.” “My sister said Alexandra Harper would never pull something like that. She was class. This one… I don’t know.” Ashley’s steps faltered for half a second. She forced herself not to look back. Not again. Not another rumor. She hugged her sketch folder against her chest and kept moving. As she turned a c