All Chapters of Married To The Arrogant Billionaire Heir: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Grace’s POV. The automatic doors of the hospital slid shut, swallowing Sarah, my adoptive mother, into the sterile hallway. I watched for a moment longer than necessary, a habit born of protectiveness. She had smiled and waved, but I saw the tremor in her hand. I let out a long, shaky breath and climbed back into my car. The silence inside the vehicle was heavy, but it was quickly replaced by a flutter of nervous excitement in my chest. Ryan. My fingers brushed over the steering wheel. After two agonizing months abroad, he was finally back on home soil. The distance had been a dull ache in my chest, but today, that ache would be soothed. I had so much to tell him. In the eight weeks he’d been gone, my entire reality had shifted. I had found them—my biological family. I had a twin sister. I pictured his face when I’d tell him. The shock, the warmth, the way he’d pull me in and tell me we’d figure it all out together. My phone buzzed against the center console, shattering the daydr

Sebastian’s POV. The silence in my office was usually my ally. Tonight, it felt like the calm before a slaughter. I sat at my mahogany desk, the city sprawled out beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows, oblivious to the fact that my empire was burning. I was reviewing the quarterly projections when the private line on my desk rang. Only three people had that number. None of them called for social chats. I picked it up. "Speak." "Sebastian." It was Marcus, my chief legal counsel. His voice, usually steady as granite, was trembling. "You need to check your email. The Board just concluded an emergency session." My grip tightened on the receiver. "What session? I didn't authorize a meeting." "Your father called it. He used his veto power as Chairman." Marcus paused, the silence heavy. "He’s triggered the succession clause, Sebastian. He’s handed operational control to your stepbrother.” The mention of my stepbrother hit me like a physical blow. My stepbrother? A man who treated busin

Grace’s POV. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only thing tethering me to reality. I hadn’t left my adoptive mother’s side for hours. She looked so small in the hospital bed, her skin the color of parchment, her chest rising in shallow, uneven intervals. I held her hand, terrified that if I let go, she would simply drift away. Stay with me, I prayed silently. Just stay. The vibration of my phone against the bedside table shattered the silence. I glanced at the screen. Unknown Number. But I knew who it was. It was the twentieth time it had lit up in the last hour. I wanted to smash the phone against the wall. I wanted to scream. But the invisible noose around my neck tightened with every missed call. My biological father held the other end of the rope, and my mother’s life was the knot. With trembling fingers, I slid to answer. “Hello.” “You are testing my patience, Grace.” My father’s voice was low, sharp, and stripped of any pretense of affection. “Sebastian is w

Grace’s POV. The moment dinner began, the dining room transformed into a courtroom. The air was so heavy that every breath felt like it required permission. Their stares pressed against my skin, heated and invasive, making me acutely aware of my trembling hands resting on the cold mahogany table. Ryan watched me with a predatory focus that made my stomach churn. Beside him, Chloe wore an expression of resentment that needed no translation. Sebastian sat to my right. Though he hadn’t spoken again, the quiet strength in his posture offered a fragile shield. I kept replaying his warning from the car: Control your mouth. I could not afford to prove Ryan and Chloe right. I had to bury Grace and become Isabella. Chloe broke the silence first. "I am trying to understand this farce," she said, her eyes landing on me with the weight of a slap. "I have come to a realization: she can't be this 'Isabella Reed' you claim. She is unequivocally the Grace my husband was having an affair with.” S

Ryan’s POV. I burst out of the heavy oak doors and into the night air, tearing at the knot of my tie. The cool wind hit my face, but it did nothing to douse the fire in my veins. My chest heaved, every breath shallow and ragged. I couldn't stay in that room for another second. Watching Sebastian lead her away—his hand on the small of her back, claiming her—had snapped something vital inside me. Isabella. The name tasted like ash. It was a mask, a lie painted over a face I knew better than my own. I paced the stone driveway, the gravel crunching loudly under my shoes. I knew the arch of her brow when she was cornered. I knew the way her pulse fluttered in her neck when she lied. That was Grace. It was the woman I had held, the woman I had promised a future to, and the woman I had ultimately discarded for power. Seeing her resurface as Isabella, wrapped in Sebastian’s protection, felt like a hallucination. It was as if a ghost had walked into dinner and started eating from the fin