All Chapters of Back in His Arms, Back in His Game... a Billionaire's Price: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

The Hart estate in Birmingham sat just beyond the city, expansive, orderly, and quietly formidable. It was close enough to Atheria to reach within a few hours by car, yet distant enough to feel like its own world. This was where the Hart empire had taken shape. Its power, history, and influence were rooted here, embedded in stone, land, and legacy.Alina had not lived here in years.Her life was firmly anchored in Atheria now, where her work, her patients, her husband, and her children were. She had built something of her own there, independent of inheritance or expectation. A respected physician. A gifted technologist. A self-made millionaire who no longer needed a family name to command respect. Remembering that steadied her more than any reassurance could.Tonight, however, she wasn’t here as Dr. Alina Vaughn.She was here as Alina Hart.Before the formal program began, Jameson guided Alina and her family toward a private lounge where the Hart's were gathered. “Before the room clai

Even in a house filled with power, it was the small truths that mattered most.Regina found Alina near the quieter edge of the reception, away from cameras and donors. This time there was no nervous energy, just familiarity.“Alina,” Regina said, taking her hands without ceremony. “I was hoping I’d catch you before the night swallowed us.”Alina smiled, instantly warm. “You look happy. Radiant, actually.”Regina laughed. “That obvious?”“Very,” Alina replied.“You survived,” Regina teased. “Barely.”“I warned you it would be an endurance test,” Alina said softly.Regina laughed. “You warned everyone. No one listened.”Samuel slipped an arm around Regina’s waist. “We’re stealing her for a minute.” He looked at Alina. “You look composed. That’s either impressive or concerning.”Alina smiled. “It’s a skill.”Regina glanced toward the twins, now admired by a rotating circle of guests. “I still can’t believe the wedding’s a week after all this. That wasn’t your idea, was it?”“Absolutely n

Claire Knox had always believed confidence could be learned. Polished into existence. Practiced until it passed.But watching Alina Hart, Claire realized too late that some confidence didn’t perform. It didn’t negotiate. It simply existed, and the room bent around it.That kind of certainty terrified her.Claire smoothed her jacket and turned toward the bar. Fear wasn’t useful. Charm was. And charm, at least, she had mastered.The man she needed sat alone, drink untouched, watching the room as if it were inventory. Older. Wealthy. Calculated. A former partner of her father’s, a man who had survived decades by confusing loyalty with leverage, and women with opportunity.Claire approached, smile warm, controlled.“Mr. Hale,” she said lightly. “I was hoping I’d find you.”His eyes dragged over her without apology. “Claire Knox,” he replied, amused. “You’re braver than I expected.”“Brave?” She slid onto the stool beside him, close enough to be deliberate. “No. Practical.”He laughed soft

The wedding took place on a late-spring afternoon that felt deliberately chosen. Sunlight filtered through old trees, a soft breeze carrying the scent of flowers and polished wood. Nothing was excessive. Everything, every detail, every pause spoke of care.Alina arrived at the bridal lounge as final adjustments were being made.The room was quiet without being tense: low voices, the whisper of fabric, the contained urgency that comes just before something meaningful begins. Regina stood near the mirror, her gown settled perfectly, hands clasped at her waist as if anchoring herself.When she turned and saw Alina, her face softened instantly.“You’re here,” Regina said, relief and happiness folding together.“Of course,” Alina replied, crossing the room without hesitation. She took Regina’s hands. “There was never another place I’d be.”Regina laughed softly, blinking fast. “I thought I was ready. Turns out I wasn’t.”“You are,” Alina said, steady and sure. “You always have been.”They

Morning arrived quietly. Light filtered through the thin trees around the cabin, pale and ordinary, dust drifting lazily in the air. The radio on the counter murmured traffic reports, weather updates, market news, voices moving on without pause, without recognition. None spoke his name.Gideon sat at the small wooden table, a mug of coffee untouched, his phone beside it. He had checked it already, knowing what he would find.Nothing. No calls. No messages. No reversals.That, more than anything, confirmed it.The final notices had arrived late the night before. Neutral language, almost indifferent: trustees appointed, accounts frozen, assets transferred, supervision imposed. Every word designed to survive scrutiny, to erase emotion, to remove debate. Fairfax Holdings existed on paper only, supervised, stripped of autonomy.And Gideon Fairfax was no longer at its center.He had expected rage, fire, a moment of denial. Instead, there was only dull pressure, like weight settling quietly