The Billionaire's Legal Wife 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 31 - 챕터 40

Ashley didn’t look back as she walked down the hall toward their bedroom. Her footsteps were quiet, but the silence she left behind was thunderous. Duke stood frozen in the living room, the side of his face still stinging from her slap—not from pain, but from the raw truth behind it. He deserved that. A part of him knew it. A part of him hated it. But the loudest part—the one tangled in pride, betrayal, insecurity—refused to admit it. “Ashley,” he finally said, but his voice came out rough, weaker than he intended. She didn’t stop. Duke ran a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. His pulse was still thundering with anger, but beneath it now was something worse—unease. Fear. The sinking sensation that he’d just crossed a line he couldn’t take back. Inside the bedroom, Ashley opened their closet and grabbed the suitcase she used when she first moved in. Her hands trembled so violently she had to grip the handle twice before yanking it down. Clothes fell. Hangers clattered. A scarf

Rain hammered the ground so violently, but Duke didn’t feel any of it. He was drenched, trembling, breathless—his entire focus locked on the overturned car holding the woman he had just destroyed with his own words. “Ashley!” he shouted again, voice breaking as he tried to wrench the door open. The metal groaned but didn’t budge. “Stay with me—baby, please—just—just look at me again!” Her head slumped against the shattered window, blood trailing in a thin red line down her cheek. Duke’s heart nearly stopped. “No. No, no, no—Ashley!” He slammed his fist against the jammed door. “Wake up! I’m right here—dammit, open your eyes!” He tried again, grabbing the metal, pulling with everything he had. His hands slipped—either from the rain, or because they were shaking too hard. He didn’t know anymore. “Help!” he screamed into the night, voice cracking. “Somebody—HELP!” No one answered him. Just the storm. Just the sound of the woman he loved struggling to breathe. He leaned down to the

The moment Duke stepped out of the recovery wing, the weight of his lie wrapped around his throat like a tightening noose. Every step is brought back with what he had just done. He felt like he was walking away from the burning wreckage of his own soul. A nurse hurried after him. “Mr. Austen—sir, wait!” He stopped, barely turning. “What?” The nurse looked rattled. “She’s awake. She'd been asking a lot. We don't know what to say," Duke’s breath stuttered. The nurse continued softly, "There must be someone to accompany her. She's still not in a good condition." He stepped back instinctively, shaking his head. “I—I can’t. It’s better if I’m not there. I'll call someone to look for her. Just do your best for her fast recovery." Without another word, he turned and strode down the hallway until the voices behind him faded. He didn’t notice Alexandra leaning against the wall near the elevators, arms crossed, watching him like a hawk waiting to consume something already dying.

The nights had grown quieter. Not peaceful— it's just quiet. Duke Austen stood on the wide balcony of his mansion, fingers curled over the railing as he stared out at the faraway villa across the hill. Celine... or Ashley. The woman he loved… and the woman who no longer knew his name. From this distance, she was just a silhouette moving through a gentle pool of light from her porch. But Duke could see her as clearly as if she stood inches away—the soft sway of her hair, the small smile she wore when a butterfly landed near the chrysanthemums, the way she tucked a strand behind her ear even though no one was watching. He had not felt peace in weeks. Tonight, he felt something worse. A slow, grinding ache—longing sharpened by guilt. “She looks happy,” a voice said behind him. Duke didn’t react. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Alexandra Harper walked onto the balcony. She leaned on the railing beside him, eyes following his gaze toward the distant villa. Her to

Duke didn’t answer Alexandra. He couldn’t. Not with Celine’s figure framed by the boutique’s window, her head bent as she adjusted a mannequin’s scarf with a delicate, absent-minded grace. Alexandra, seeing his hesitation, leaned casually against the car. “You can’t hide forever, you know. One day, you’ll have to face her. Or face yourself.” Duke’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. He hated her. He hated the sharp precision with which she could cut through his control. Yet, worse than hate, he hated the truth Alexandra had uncovered: he was powerless when it came to Celine. And she knew it. He finally shifted the car into gear, forcing himself to leave. Hours later, Duke returned to his penthouse, empty and silent. The office that once pulsed with ambition now felt hollow. He lit a single cigarette, inhaling the acrid smoke, tasting the regret that had lodged itself in his lungs. Years had passed since the accident. One year of watching Celine rebuild her life from a dista