All Chapters of Married To The Arrogant Billionaire Heir: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Chloe’s POV.The Archives were cold, but the fire of anticipation in my gut kept me warm.I sat at my desk, the rhythmic hum of the basement’s ventilation system providing a dull soundtrack to my morning. My eyes were fixed on my personal laptop, shielded from the overhead security camera by a stack of oversized ledgers. I was waiting for the chime. The digital ping that would signify the end of Emily Ross’s reign of moral superiority.When it finally came, I didn't rush. I took a slow sip of my lukewarm coffee, savoring the moment before I clicked the notification.Subject: E. Ross - Final Report.Mercer had delivered. The man was a vulture, but he was efficient. I scrolled through the pages, my eyes scanning past the mundane details—credit scores, dental records, rental history. I needed the rot. I needed the secret that would turn her into my puppet.I found it on page seven.I leaned back, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. It was perfect. It wasn't embezzlement or

Emily’s POV.The silver flash drive in my pocket felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.Every time I moved, I could feel it tapping against my thigh, a constant, cold reminder of the choice I had made in the basement. The metal felt like ice through the fabric of my skirt, a brand that marked me as a traitor before I had even struck the first blow. I stood at my desk outside the Executive Suite, staring at the polished mahogany doors, my vision blurring as the world around me began to feel like an elaborate, suffocating stage play.I’m sorry, Isabella, I thought, the words a silent, useless prayer that felt like ash in my throat. I’m so, so sorry.I looked down at the photograph tucked inside my top drawer, hidden under a stack of floral stationery and a box of staples. It was Sam. She was sitting in her wheelchair at the facility in Jersey City, a thin, brave smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her medical bills were the only thing that mattered. Chloe knew it. Chloe

Ryan’s POV.The rain in Manhattan was relentless. It wasn't a cleansing shower; it was a cold, dirty deluge that slicked the pavement outside the upscale bistro on 57th Street, turning the city into a blur of grey and neon.I stood under the awning of a bakery across the street, the canvas dripping icy water onto the shoulder of my jacket. I ignored the dampness seeping through the cheap fabric. I had been waiting for forty minutes, shivering not just from the temperature, but from a vibrating, restless energy that had kept me awake for three nights straight.My tip was solid. Sebastian had a standing reservation here for "power lunches" on Thursdays. In the old days, I used to be invited to these. I used to sit at the table with the investors, drinking sparkling water and carving up the city. Now, I was standing across the street like a stray dog looking for scraps. My source told me that today, he wasn't taking a client. He was taking her.I checked my phone, shielding the screen fr

Ryan’s POV.The elevator panel in the private lobby of Knight Tower glowed with a soft, mocking blue light.I stood in front of it, my hand hovering over the biometric scanner. I knew the code. I knew the override sequence. I had used this elevator a thousand times to get to the penthouse—my family’s penthouse.I pressed my thumb against the glass.BEEP.A red light flashed.ACCESS DENIED. ID UNRECOGNIZED.I stared at the screen, my jaw tightening. I tried again.BEEP. ACCESS DENIED."I wouldn't bother, Mr. Knight," a voice said from behind the security desk.I turned. It was the night guard, a new guy I didn't recognize. He was looking at me with a mixture of pity and warning."Mr. Sebastian updated the protocols this morning," the guard said. "Biometrics, passcodes, retinal scans. Everything has been wiped. You don't have clearance for the executive floor anymore.”"I work there," I lied, though the lie tasted like ash. Technically, I had been chased out for weeks now by Sebastian a

Sebastian’s POV.Paranoia was a poison. It didn't kill you instantly, it just made everything taste like ash. It seeped into the marrow of your bones, turning every shadow into a threat and every silence into a lie. I had spent my entire life surrounded by people who wanted something from me, but I had never felt this specific, localized rot until now.It was 9:00 PM, the night before the Hudson Yards presentation. The penthouse should have been a sanctuary, a quiet fortress where we gathered our strength for the battle in the boardroom. We should have been reviewing the final talking points, sharing a drink, maybe continuing the fragile, unspoken intimacy that had started over pizza in the office—a moment where the contract felt like a distant, fading memory.Instead, the air was thick with secrets, heavy enough to make my lungs ache.I stood in the doorway of the study, my silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway, watching Isabella. She didn't know I was there. I watched t