The Billionaire's Legal Wife 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 41 - 챕터 50

The private lounge at Harper Corporation felt impossibly quiet for a building that never slept. Alexandra Harper reclined in a high-backed leather chair, the kind that made her look every inch the queen of her domain. Her phone buzzed, a subtle reminder that the world outside her carefully curated empire never stopped moving. She glanced down at the message: Duke is distracted. Timing is perfect. A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips. Across town, Duke Austen had no idea he was walking into a storm he couldn’t see yet. The boardrooms of Austen Holdings had been his battlefield for months, yet tonight, a different kind of pressure was mounting. Deals he had spent weeks negotiating suddenly stalled. Partners he trusted pulled out at the last minute, citing “unforeseen circumstances” and “compliance issues.” Someone was weaving a web. And Alexandra Harper had learned to weave them better than anyone. “Duke,” a voice said softly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked up t

The room had grown quieter after the signature scratched across the merger contract, but the air was far from calm. Duke rose from the chair, voice low, each word measured. “This doesn’t mean I agree to anything else. Not the engagement by heart. Not your… games.” Alexandra’s smile didn’t falter. “Of course, Duke. The contract is the important part. The rest… we can negotiate in time.” Her tone was light, but every syllable was a trap. Gregory Harper folded his hands on the table. “Make no mistake, Duke. The merger is unconditional in its protection, but the engagement… it signals stability. The public, the board, the media, they expect to see a united front. You don’t have to like it, but you will do what is necessary to protect what is yours.” Duke’s fingers itched to rip the contract, to throw it across the table. But rationality, something he barely felt after years of Alexandra’s manipulations, kept him seated. He clenched his jaw, staring straight ahead. “You want me to s

“Duke.” Her name lands in the room, carrying the kind of familiarity that shouldn’t exist anymore. The sound of it makes her freeze. She turns, slowly, like she's afraid she’ll vanish if she moves too fast. And he doesn’t. Celine stands at the doorway, rain dripping from her hair, her coat clinging to her like the storm outside tried to swallow her whole and she fought her way out. Her eyes—God, her eyes—are not the soft, uncertain ones of the past year. Just clarity. And beneath that clarity… there's anger. “Celine?” his voice cracks, and he hate herself for it. He steps inside without waiting for permission. The door clicks shut behind her. She feel the air shift, tightening, pressing against her lungs. She looks around like she’s taking in the crime scene of her own life. “You didn’t even lock the door,” he says quietly. “I— I wasn’t expecting anyone.” her throat works. “Are you… are you okay? Did something happen?” She lifts her chin, the smallest upward motion,

The morning light slipped gently through the narrow wooden blinds of the small design studio, warming the pale walls she had painted herself. It was far from the life she once lived, but it was hers. Her quiet little corner in a provincial town where the streets were slow, the air was clean, and nobody knew the name she used to carry. Here, she was known only as Celine, the woman who designed clothes with a calm smile and eyes that sometimes drifted far away. She stood behind her worktable, running her fingers over the soft linen fabric she had just finished cutting. The studio smelled faintly of coffee from the bakery next door and of the lavender candle she always lit in the mornings. She breathed in deeply, letting the calm settle at the edges of her heart. The studio door opened with a soft chime. She did not need to turn around to know who it was. "You are awake earlier than usual," she said, a smile tugging at her lips. "You always sleep longer when it rains at night."

"Can you pin this side a little higher," Ashley asked calmly as she studied the gown reflected in the long mirror, her voice steady and confident while her assistant hurried to her side with fresh pins. Ashley’s eyes were sharp, missing nothing as she circled the model who stood on the pedestal. The studio around her buzzed with quiet but intense energy. Rolls of satin and lace lined the walls. Sketches covered every board. The scent of fresh fabric and steam from ironing presses filled the room. It felt alive. It felt like her. "Ma’am Ashley, the client is asking if she can move her fitting to Friday," her assistant said with a nervous smile. "Tell her yes, but remind her that any later adjustments might affect her deadline," Ashley replied as she checked the drape over the shoulder. "Yes, ma’am," the assistant answered before stepping away. Ashley nodded, satisfied. "Good. We will finish this piece by tonight. I want it perfect." The model smiled. "You’re really somethin