Todos los capítulos de BILLIONAIRE’S REVENGE BRIDE: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

Ariana’s POVIf anyone had told me that Slade Knight the walking disaster and emotionally constipated billionaire had a sister who behaved like a caffeinated squirrel in human form…I would’ve laughed.But after breakfast chaos…And after Margo reduced Slade’s dignity into dust…I realized one thing:This family was dangerous.The fun kind.But still dangerous.Slade hid in his office after breakfast, pretending to answer emails while his mother rearranged his entire living room and Liana attempted to braid my hair without asking.She sat cross-legged behind me on the couch, humming loudly while twisting my hair into something that felt suspiciously like a structural engineering project.“You know,” she said cheerfully, “I’ve always wanted a sister.”“I’m not exactly”“You are now! And I’ve decided we’re going out.”I turned. “Out? Where?”“The mall,” she announced, bright-eyed and ready to destroy someone’s financial stability.Which turned out to be, unfortunately, Slade’s.I blinke

Ariana’s POVI should’ve known Liana was serious when she said “family tradition.”I should’ve known when she grinned like a criminal mastermind.I should’ve definitely known when she whispered:“Wear comfortable shoes.”But I was naïve. And tired. And still recovering from Slade’s Death-by-PowerPoint stare earlier.So when morning came, I was not mentally prepared to wake up to“ARIIIIIANA!”“Get up, sweetheart!”“It’s kidnapping day!”I shot upright in bed.Slade’s mom, Margo, and Liana were standing at the foot of the mattress like an angel and a goblin. Respectively.I clutched the blanket.“What…..what time is it?”“Seven,” Liana chirped.“In the MORNING?” I screeched.Margo clapped her hands like this was Christmas morning.“Oh darling, we have a full schedule! Breakfast, planning, emotional blackmail”“WAIT.” My brain caught up.“Where is Slade?”They exchanged a look filled with evil delight.Margo: “Avoiding us.”Liana: “Which… he thinks is possible.”Margo: “It isn’t.”I rub

Slade’s POVI didn’t go to my office.If I had, I would’ve stared at numbers without seeing them, snapped at assistants who didn’t deserve it, and eventually replayed the way Ariana laughed at dinner like it was a personal betrayal my mind refused to let go of.So instead, I left the house.I took the back stairs. Grabbed my keys. Ignored the way my chest felt too tight, like something was pressing from the inside out.I told myself I needed a drink.What I really needed was distance.The bar was private, quiet, and expensive enough that no one asked questions. No flashing lights or loud music. Just low jazz humming through hidden speakers, dark wood walls, and bartenders who knew when to pour without speaking.My kind of place.I slid into my usual seat, loosened my tie, and ordered whiskey. The good one.The first sip burned.Good.Pain that made sense.I’d barely set the glass down when the stool beside me scraped softly.“Damn,” a familiar voice said. “You look like hell.”I didn’

Ariana’s POV Sleep was a joke. After the hallway bants. After the way Slade’s voice had dropped into something dangerous and unguarded, after the way my body still felt like it was vibrating hours later.I lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every inch of space we hadn’t crossed. And the worst part? He’d walked away. Not stormed. Not snapped. Just… closed himself off again like nothing had happened. Like we hadn’t nearly detonated something neither of us knew how to defuse. By morning, the mansion felt different and quiet. Not tense in the loud way but tense in the way a house feels when everyone is pretending nothing happened the night before. Liana was suspiciously cheerful at breakfast. Margo kissed my cheek twice and told me I looked “positively radiant,” which made me choke on my coffee. Slade barely spoke at all. He didn’t avoid me and that was worse. He was polite. Controlled. Distant. The kind of distance that said last night never happened witho

Ariana's POV Applause followed us like a living thing as we stood from our seats.Not warm applause. Not kind.The sharp, speculative kind that cut, that whispered power and money and who won.I felt it on my skin as Slade offered his arm again, his posture unbothered, his face unreadable. If anyone was watching closely enough, they might have noticed the slight tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw flexed once, twice.I took his arm anyway.Because this was part of the performance.As we walked past the rows of seated guests, heads turned. Conversations died. Phones discreetly lifted. Somewhere behind us, a woman whispered my name like it was a secret she wanted to taste.I kept my chin high.And then I saw them.Shawn and Isabella stood near the aisle, waiting for us to pass. They hadn’t left yet either too stunned or too proud to flee immediately. Isabella’s face was tight, her smile stretched thin and brittle, like glass under pressure. Shawn looked… hollow.Not angry or furi