All Chapters of Embraced By The Billionaire: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The timer on the oven chimed, a soft, polite sound that echoed in the vast, silent kitchen. Avery’s heart leaped into her throat. With oven mitts on, she carefully pulled out the tray of small ramekins. The tops were perfectly set, the edges slightly puffed. She gently poked one with her finger. It felt right.Her secret baking session with Sarah the night before had been a chaotic, flour-dusted affair. The first batch had been a disaster, soupy and undercooked. The second was overbaked, turning the molten center into a solid, disappointing sponge.Avery had been ready to give up, but Sarah, fueled by a mischievous determination, had coached her through a third and final attempt. This time, it seemed, they had succeeded.Now came the real test.Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Ashton seemed preoccupied, his mind clearly on business matters, while Avery was a bundle of nerves, barely touching her food. As the maids cleared the main course, Sarah gave Avery a subtle, encouraging

The air in the Knight mansion had grown thick with unspoken words. The near-kiss had shattered the easy, comfortable dynamic between Avery and Ashton, replacing it with a palpable tension. They moved around each other with a new, careful awkwardness.Their conversations were brief and polite, their gazes would meet for a moment too long before one of them would quickly look away. The memory of that charged moment in the dining room was a ghost that haunted the hallways between them.For Avery, the awkwardness was compounded by the cold stone of certainty in her stomach. R.R. The initials were a constant, silent scream in her mind. Every time Elena offered her a kind word or a helpful hand, Avery had to force a smile, the duplicity tasting like poison in her mouth. She couldn't continue like this. The secret was too heavy, the isolation too complete. She had to talk to him.That evening, after Elena had taken Adelia for a walk in the garden, Avery took a deep breath and walked to Ashto

Sleep offered no escape. Every time Avery closed her eyes, she heard the chilling echo of Rose Reed’s laughter and Elena’s cold, triumphant voice. The sense of violation was a physical thing, a phantom crawling under her skin. Long before the first hint of dawn, she gave up the pretense of rest.She slipped out of bed, wrapping a silk robe around herself, and walked barefoot into the silent living area of her suite. The house was asleep, a slumbering giant of glass and steel. She was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling window, a massive pane of glass that overlooked the manicured gardens, now shrouded in a soft, grey mist.She stood there, hugging her arms around her waist, her forehead pressed against the cool glass. She wasn’t just looking out; she was trying to ground herself, to find a single, solid point in a world that had just revealed another layer of its treachery.The image of Elena’s betrayal played on a loop in her mind. The stolen diary, the proud report, the casual discussion

The tense quiet of the Knight mansion was a coiled spring. In the nursery, Adelia napped peacefully, oblivious to the storm about to break within the walls of her home.Elena Vance who sat next to the crib, shifted slightly when her phone buzzed in her pocket. The message was two words:My study. Now.No signature, no pleasantries. None were needed. Elena’s posture straightened. A flicker of unease, perhaps, but it was quickly suppressed by professional discipline. She smoothed down her simple, neat uniform, her face a mask of placid competence. This was likely just a new set of instructions, a change in Adelia’s schedule. She was in control.She walked through the silent, opulent halls of the Knight mansion, her soft-soled shoes making no sound on the polished floors. She knocked once, a crisp, polite rap on the heavy oak door of the study.“Come in,” Ashton’s voice answered, devoid of warmth.Elena pushed the door open and stepped inside. And then she froze.It was a tribunal.Ashto

The only light in Marcus Thorne’s office came from the glow of his three monitors. The only sound was the low, steady hum of enterprise-grade servers and the soft, rhythmic click of his keyboard. Outside, the city throbbed with life, but in this hermetically sealed room, the only world that mattered was the one made of data, a universe of ghosts and digital breadcrumbs.His target was a ghost named Clara Bellweather. Ten years ago, she had simply evaporated. No social media, no credit card activity, no forwarding address. Just a final paycheck from Reed Corp, cashed in full, and then silence. To most, the trail was colder than a tomb. To Marcus, it was merely a challenge of patience.His fingers moved across the keyboard. He wasn't hacking; that was for amateurs. He was simply listening, following the faintest echoes in the digital abyss. He traced the initial severance package through a labyrinth of phantom accounts. He followed a bus ticket purchased under an alias, Carol Bright, wh