All Chapters of The Billionaire's undercover bride : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

VIVIANThe moment Damian fell asleep beside me that night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, my mind a tangled mess of fears and guilt that refused to quiet down. His arm was wrapped loosely around my waist, his breathing soft and steady against my shoulder—peaceful, warm, trusting.A trust I didn’t deserve.A trust that felt like it was slowly suffocating me.Mr. Bennett’s words kept replaying in my head, looping like a whisper I couldn’t escape:“Someone might be tracking our internal files.”“It started a few weeks ago… around when you got married.”“Someone close to you.”Each word was a needle pressing deeper, sharper.I had barely kept my composure. And the way Bennett’s eyes lingered on me, suspicious yet polite, made me feel like I was sitting inside a spotlight I couldn’t move away from.Damian didn’t suspect me.He defended me without hesitation.And that was the worst part.His unwavering trust wrapped around me like a rope—tightening slowly, painfully—because if he ever

VIVIAN The apartment was unusually quiet that evening. The soft hum of the city outside didn’t reach the tension that pressed against my chest, a tension I couldn’t shake. Damian had been unusually withdrawn all day. I noticed the way he rubbed his temples after every phone call, the subtle wince when he shifted in his chair, and the way he sank onto the couch with a heaviness that made my heart lurch.I had tried to give him space, thinking perhaps it was exhaustion from work, but the unease in my chest refused to let me ignore it. I hovered near him more than I wanted to admit, pretending to read, pretending to busy myself with small chores around the apartment, all the while sneaking glances at him.When he finally rose to get a glass of water, I followed him silently. That’s when I noticed it: his hands were slightly trembling, his face pale, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He moved with the careful, almost hesitant steps of someone trying not to collapse.“Damian…” My voice trembl

VIVIAN The elevator ride to the office feels longer than it ever has—too bright, too quiet, too clean, like a place that shouldn’t hold the kinds of secrets that threaten to destroy an entire life. My hands won’t stop trembling. I hide them in my coat pockets, but they keep shaking anyway, remembering the feel of Damian’s feverish skin the night before…Remembering how his breathing strained.Remembering how the doctor said his blood pressure was dangerously high.And I caused it.Every beat of his heart—the heart he trusted me with—is cracking because of me.I swallow the guilt as the elevator dings open.Charlotte told me to meet her early, before work hours, before people could wonder why a married woman would come to the station looking like she’d spent the night crying. The hallway lights flick on as I walk, each harsh glow reflecting off the glass walls and amplifying the dread building in my chest.I push open the door to Charlotte’s office.She’s already there.Her hair tied

VIVIANThe hospital smell hits me before I even step fully inside—the familiar blend of antiseptics, disinfectant, and faint lavender air freshener that tries its best to make sickness feel less suffocating. For the first time in days, walking through these white corridors doesn’t make my chest tighten. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s desperation. Maybe it’s the tiny, trembling desire inside me to see something—anything—go right in my life again.My heels tap against the tiles as I head toward my aunt Peculiar’s ward. I’d left Damian resting at home; the doctor’s words about his blood pressure kept echoing in my head. But right now, I need strength from somewhere, and the only place I knew I could breathe was beside the woman who raised me when the world fell apart.Aunt Peculiar—my aunt, my mother, my father, my home.I slowed as I reached her door.“Please be sitting up,” I whispered under my breath. “Please be better today.”I gently pushed the door open.And there she was.Sitting upr

VIVIANWhen I stepped out of the room after changing into something more comfortable, the first thing I saw was Damian’s mother arranging pillows on the couch as if she owned the place—which, in a way, she did. Not by rights, but by presence. She had that warm authority only mothers possessed. The kind that made a house feel like it remembered its roots.I wipe my palms on my dress and walk toward her.“Mom,” I say softly.She looks up and beams—the same beam she gave me the first day she accepted me as family. The one that made the whole idea of marriage feel real.“Vivian, my dear. Come, let me see you properly.” She takes both of my hands and squeezes them affectionately. “You glow every time I see you. Marriage suits you.”I force a soft laugh, though inside my chest something tightens painfully.Marriage suits me.But do I suit this marriage?“Come, come,” she says warmly. “Sit with me.”We settle on the couch, and she begins talking—about her trip, the noisy neighbors she can’t