All Chapters of Married To The Arrogant Billionaire Heir: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Grace’s POV.The blue light of the tablet screen was the only thing illuminating the darkened office. It was 1:00 AM. The cleaning crews had come and gone hours ago. The city below was a sprawling grid of gold and black, indifferent to the panic clawing at my throat.I stared at the headline, my vision blurring.PAGE SIX EXCLUSIVE: THE LOST YEARS OF ISABELLA KNIGHT.Sources close to the Reed family suggest the new Mrs. Knight’s sudden return to New York follows a stint in a hush-hush Swiss facility. Is the "Power Couple" narrative a cover for a fragile heiress on the brink?My hands shook.Chloe.It had to be her. She wasn't attacking me physically again. She was attacking the ghost. She was poking holes in the timeline of a woman who didn't exist, and every hole she punched brought her closer to finding me."Stop reading it," a deep voice commanded from the doorway.I jumped, dropping the tablet on the desk with a clatter.Sebastian was standing there. He had discarded his jacket hou

Sebastian’s POV.The penthouse was warm, bathed in the soft, amber glow of the recessed lighting. It smelled of something savory roasting in the oven—the domestic scents of a home I had finally allowed myself to believe was real.I stood in the foyer, the heavy steel door clicking shut behind me with a finality that felt like a gavel hitting a sound block. I held the manila envelope in my hand. It was just paper and ink, but it felt heavier than lead, a loaded weapon aimed directly at the heart of the life I had built over the last months."Sebastian?"Her voice drifted from the living room. It was light, melodic, and hummed with a quiet happiness that made my stomach turn. She walked around the corner, wiping her hands on a white linen dish towel. She was wearing a simple silk dress, her hair loose and wavy around her shoulders. She looked breathtaking—the image of the perfect wife.She smiled when she saw me, her eyes crinkling in that way that always made my pulse skip. "You’re hom

Sebastian’s POV.Three days.It had been three days since the truth shattered my life, and the silence in the penthouse was louder than any screaming match I had ever endured. This wasn't the peaceful quiet of a home, it was the heavy, pressurized silence of a tomb. The very air felt different—thinner, colder—as if the lie had sucked all the warmth out of the vents.It was 11:30 PM. I unlocked the front door, my movements heavy and stiff. I had stayed at the office late on purpose, prowling the halls of Knight Tower like a restless ghost. I had fired a VP of Logistics for a minor clerical error just to feel something other than the dull, aching void in my chest. I had buried myself in spreadsheets and contracts until my eyes blurred and the numbers lost all meaning.But no matter how long I stayed away, no matter how many extra hours I clocked, I eventually had to come back here. To the scene of the crime. To the place where I had let down my guard and let a stranger into my soul.I w

Chloe’s POV.The basement of Knight Tower smelled of dust, failure, and Ryan’s cheap cologne.I sat on a folding metal chair, staring at a stack of invoices from 1998 that needed to be digitized. This was my life now. Weeks ago, I was with the HR, sipping matcha lattes on the 50th floor and planning the social event of the season. Now, I was scanning receipts in a windowless purgatory."Stop pacing," I snapped at Ryan.Ryan was walking back and forth between the rows of filing cabinets, looking like a caged tiger that had lost its teeth."We’re running out of time," he muttered, checking his phone for the hundredth time. "The Gala is in days. Victoria is pressuring me. We need something solid, Chloe. The rumors aren't enough. The stock is holding steady.""I know," I hissed, jamming a staple remover into a document. "But what do you want me to do? We’re locked out. Sebastian has biometrics on the elevators. We can't even get to the lobby without a security escort."I turned back to my

Chloe’s POV.I sat in my car in the subterranean parking garage of our estate, the engine idling, staring at my phone until the screen blurred. My thumb hovered over the Twitter app, refreshing the feed every ten seconds like a tic I couldn't control.The air in the garage was damp and smelled of exhaust and cold concrete, but I was sweating. My silk blouse was sticking to my back. My heart was hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs.I was waiting for the headline. Tragedy at Hudson Yards. Mrs. Knight Found Dead.I had been sitting here for four hours. I couldn't go upstairs. I couldn't face Ryan, and I certainly couldn't face my reflection in the mirror. Every time I blinked, I saw the pipes falling. I saw the cloud of dust. I heard that sickening, metallic crack of the hydraulics failing.I refreshed the feed again.BREAKING NEWS: MIRACLE AT HUDSON YARDS.Isabella Knight, wife of billionaire CEO Sebastian Knight, has survived a catastrophic collapse at the future Knight