All Chapters of The Billionaire's undercover bride : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

DAMIAN The office was quiet, the kind of quiet that usually came just before midnight. The hum of the central air and the soft click of keys against glass-topped desks were the only sounds as I sifted through the latest reports on Vale Global’s recovery project. My suit jacket hung on the chair behind me, loosened after another long day of board meetings, client calls, and endless discussions about rebuilding the company from the ground up. Even though I had tried to focus on numbers, deadlines, and strategy, my mind kept wandering back to her—Vivian. The memory of her soft laughter as she leaned against me in the living room, the way she brushed her hair behind her ear absentmindedly while reading files, the warmth of her body pressed close against mine—it all distracted me relentlessly. I was tapping my pen against the table when the door opened. “Damian.” I looked up, and my chest tightened instantly. She was standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, dressed

DAMIAN The boardroom was bathed in the harsh glare of fluorescent lights, the kind that left no corner unobserved and no detail unnoticed. The table stretched like a battlefield, polished mahogany reflecting the tension that hung over every chair. Board members sat like generals preparing for war, their fingers drumming, papers rustling, eyes sharp as hawks. And in the middle of it all, I sat, suit pressed, tie straight, eyes fixed, a calm mask hiding the storm underneath.The meeting was meant to be about the reconstruction of Vale Global Security after the recent leaks and data breaches—assessing losses, managing investor confidence, and restoring public trust. But it was never that simple. Every agenda item had a hidden layer, every suggestion carried an unspoken threat, and every glance at me was a silent test of loyalty—or an attempt at manipulation.“Damian,” Chairman Prescott began, his voice gravelly from years of overseeing operations with iron precision, “we need concrete

DAMIAN “Damian…” Vivian breathed, her voice sounding in the way she couldn’t hide her emotions. “No one has ever done something like this for me.” She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around herself as if she didn’t quite know what to do at the moment. The breeze lifted her hair, brushing it across her face, and she brings it back slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. I couldn’t help it. The sight of herstanding there, stunning, glowing under moonlight made something inside me shift. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. “You’re worth it,” I said quietly. Her lips parted slightly, and she blinked fast, as if she was forcing herself to stay composed. “You remembered everything. Even the little things. My favorite flower, the music I love, the food too. "Damian, how did you even?” I moved closer and placed my hand in her waist. “I pay attention, Especially to you.” She laughed, and she rested her head on my chest . The moment her forehead touched me, something inside my

VIVIAN I wasn’t expecting my mother in-law that morning. The house was so quiet and I was feeling bored. The kind of soft silence that only follows a night of laughter. Damian had already left for work, leaving me his usual note on the table. "Don’t skip breakfast and wear something warm today". My lips curled unconsciously every time I read those little reminders. He wrote them like he wasn’t the most intimidating man in the building the moment he walked into his company. I was still rinsing my plate when the doorbell ranged. Once. Twice. Persistent. I frowned. Damian never forgot anything—if someone was coming, he would’ve told me. I dried my hands and walked to the door, a strange flutter working its way through my stomach. When I opened it, everything inside me startled to a pause. “Good morning, dear.” Victoria Vale stood at my doorstep. Elegant. Graceful. Warm eyes that sparkled like she could see through a person’s soul. “Mrs. Vale,” I breathed. “I… wasn

DAMIAN The room is dim when I push the door open with my shoulder, balancing the tray in one hand. The curtains are half-drawn, letting in a soft, pale morning light that spills across the carpet in a quiet stripe. It touches the edge of the bed, my bed but it’s her shape beneath the blankets that pulls my attention like gravity. Vivian is curled on her side, breathing shallowly, one hand lying limply above the covers. Her hair is a dark halo across my pillow. She looks small. Not weak, never that—but worn down, fever-dazed, fragile in a way that twists something deep and unwelcome in my chest. Her malaria had thinned her voice last night. Now it’s taken her strength too. I set the tray on the bedside table. The clink is soft, but her eyes flutter open anyway. “Damian?” Her voice is rough, sleepy, too soft. “I’m right here,” I murmur, sitting beside her. “How do you feel?” She tries to shrug, but even that looks like work. “Like my bones aren’t mine.” A faint, humorles