THE BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET HEIR のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

The sun had barely risen, but the forest was already alive with movement—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds, and the occasional crack of breaking twigs beneath unseen footsteps. Aria crouched behind a thick oak, scanning the treeline. Her heart pounded in sync with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins from the previous night’s revelations.Damian moved beside her like a shadow, silent, alert, every sense tuned to danger. He had barely slept, the weight of strategy and vigilance etched into every line of his face. Yet there was a calmness about him—a lethal calm that made Aria both nervous and inexplicably safe.“Elena?” Aria whispered, glancing at their companion.Elena emerged from behind a boulder, clutching her makeshift gear and looking far too clean for someone who had been wading through mud and dodging bullets the day before. “I’m here,” she said, voice tight with nervous humor. “I still don’t like forests. Or betrayal. Or… pretty much everything that’s

The message wouldn’t leave Aria’s mind.The heir moves next.It replayed in her thoughts like a ticking clock, each repetition louder, heavier, more ominous than the last. She stood at the edge of Damian’s penthouse balcony, the city sprawled beneath her in a million glittering lights, and felt for the first time that the danger wasn’t approaching.It was already here.Behind her, Damian was silent. Too silent.She turned and found him standing near the glass doors, phone still in his hand, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle ticked beneath his skin. The billionaire who dominated boardrooms and bent empires to his will looked… shaken.“Who else knows?” Aria asked quietly.Damian didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was low, stripped of arrogance and steel.“Very few people were ever meant to know,” he said. “Fewer still are alive who do.”Aria’s stomach twisted. “Then it’s real.”He met her gaze. “It’s always been real.”A SECRET BURIED IN BLOODThey sat across from each o

The world didn’t wake up gently.It exploded.By 6:00 a.m. Berlin time, the name Vale was trending across every major platform. By 6:07, conspiracy theories were multiplying faster than facts. By 6:15, the phrase secret billionaire heir had become a global headline.And by 6:30, Aria realized one terrifying truth.There was no turning back.She stood in the hotel conference room, staring at the massive screen where international news channels played simultaneously.“—unconfirmed reports suggest the existence of a previously unknown heir—”“—sources claim internal war at Vale Industries—”“—Damian Vale suspended amid allegations—”Aria rubbed her temples. “I just wanted a quiet morning coffee.”Elena, typing furiously on three devices at once, snorted. “Sweetheart, quiet died when billionaires learned how to text.”Damian stood at the head of the room, composed, controlled, dangerously calm. The kind of calm that came before storms flattened cities.“They leaked it,” he said.Elijah le

There was a moment—just a single breath—after the car vanished into the Berlin night when Aria believed they might actually make it.That hope died quickly.The city blurred past the windows, streetlights streaking into pale lines as Elena drove like the laws of physics were merely suggestions. Sirens wailed behind them, echoing off concrete and glass, growing louder, closer.Aria’s fingers dug into the seatbelt.“I swear,” she said through clenched teeth, “if we survive this, I’m suing someone.”Elena didn’t take her eyes off the road. “Put me first on the list. I need emotional compensation.”Damian sat beside Aria, one arm braced protectively behind her, the other gripping the door handle. His calm was unsettling—eyes sharp, mind clearly several steps ahead of everyone else.“They’re not police,” he said quietly.Elijah, pale but alert in the back seat, scoffed. “Of course they’re not.”Aria twisted to look at him. “How do you know?”“Because if they were,” Elijah replied, “we’d al

Aria woke to silence.Not the peaceful kind.The dangerous kind.Her first sensation was cold—seeping through thin fabric, pressing against her spine. The second was restraint. Her wrists were bound, not painfully, but firmly enough to remind her that freedom was no longer hers to assume.She opened her eyes.Concrete ceiling. Soft white lights. No windows.*Not a dungeon,* she noted absently.*Too clean.*A chair scraped across the floor.“Good. You’re awake.”The voice was female.Controlled. Cultured.Aria turned her head slowly.Claire Whitman sat across from her, legs crossed, dressed immaculately in cream silk, as if they were meeting for brunch instead of psychological warfare.“Claire,” Aria said hoarsely. “You should really stop kidnapping women. It’s very last-century villain.”Claire smiled. “I was hoping you’d still have your humor.”Aria tested her bindings subtly. Zip ties. Professional. Temporary.“So,” Aria continued, “are we going to pretend this is about business, or