THE PRICE OF A BILLIONAIRE’S LOVE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

The detention center smelled of metal, bleach, and silence. Aria walked beside Damon, her hand brushing his, grounding him as they followed an officer down a long corridor lined with steel doors. Damon’s jaw was locked, his muscles tense under his shirt, every step radiating a coiled, controlled fury. This wasn’t rage. This was purpose. “You don’t have to do this,” Aria whispered. “Yes,” he said, voice low, “I do.” The officer stopped outside a visitation room. “He’s already inside. Five minutes.” Damon nodded once. Aria squeezed his hand before he stepped in. “I’m right here.” He looked at her—deeply, silently, in that way that said everything he didn’t have words for—then turned and entered. The door closed behind him. Vincent Reed sat at the metal table, hands cuffed, eyes bright with something between amusement and venom. “Little brother,” he drawled. “You look terrible. Grief doesn’t suit you.” Damon froze mid-step. Vincent smirked. “You shouldn’t glare,” he conti

Margaret Hale walked into Damon’s office as if she owned the building. Perfect posture. Expensive silk suit. Expression polished into that cold, matriarchal calm Damon had grown up around. But today… Damon saw something he’d never seen in her before. Guilt. Or something dangerously close to it. Aria stood beside Damon as Margaret approached. Her heels clicked sharply on the marble floor, each step echoing through the tense silence. “Damon,” Margaret said coolly. “I understand you requested my presence.” “Not requested,” Damon replied. “Required.” Margaret lifted a brow. “Is there a problem?” Aria stepped forward, her voice crisp and professional. “Three unauthorized financial transfers were made using your board clearance. All of them benefited Vincent Reed.” Margaret’s eyes flickered—just slightly. Damon caught it. Aria caught it. Everyone caught it. Margaret folded her arms. “I am a senior board member. I have access to half of this company. Accusing me of miscond

Aria hadn’t slept. She sat at her desk as dawn bled through the windows, eyes burning, fingers flying across her laptop. Screens glowed with court records, financial histories, sealed indictments, and confidential filings she had no legal right to access. But she accessed them anyway. Because Vincent Reed had made this personal. She leaned back slowly, breath hitching. “There you are,” she whispered. A name blinked on the screen. Daniel Crowe. Aria’s pulse quickened. Crowe wasn’t just a name buried in Vincent’s past—he was a ghost. A former financial auditor who vanished eight years ago, right after submitting a sealed report on Reed family holdings. No body. No arrest. No official death. But there was a payoff. Aria opened another file. A shell company. Offshore. Funded by Vincent Reed. Two weeks after Crowe disappeared. Aria’s stomach twisted. “This isn’t blackmail,” she murmured. “It’s blood money.” Her phone buzzed. Damon: Where are you? She typed quickly. A

The safe house didn’t feel safe. It was quiet—too quiet—nestled in a gated hillside far from the city, guarded by men who didn’t ask questions and never smiled. Cameras blinked silently from every corner. Steel doors locked with a sound that echoed like a verdict. Aria stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself. She hadn’t stopped shaking since the garage. Damon watched her from across the room, his chest tight with a fear he didn’t know how to release. He had faced hostile takeovers, assassins, corporate wars—but seeing Aria with a gun pointed at her? That had broken something open inside him. “Aria,” he said softly. She didn’t turn. “I’m fine,” she replied automatically. He crossed the room anyway, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. “You don’t have to be.” She finally faced him. Her eyes were calm—but exhausted. Guarded in a way he hadn’t seen before. “They didn’t just come after me because I’m your lawyer,” she said quietly. “Did they?” Damon stiffened.

The courtroom was colder than Aria remembered. Not physically—but emotionally. The air felt heavy, stripped of warmth, as though justice itself had taken a step back. The polished wood, the stone walls, the rigid silence—all of it pressed in on her, reminding her that this place was never meant to protect people like her. She stood beside Damon as the judge reviewed the motion, hands folded neatly in front of her, spine straight, expression composed. From the outside, she looked calm. Professional. Untouched. Inside, every muscle was tight. The judge’s face remained unreadable, his voice detached, clinical, as if this were nothing more than a routine procedural matter—not a calculated strike designed to weaken them. “The court has reviewed the sealed affidavit,” the judge said calmly. “Given the personal connection between Ms. Moore and the reopened investigation, this court finds a conflict of interest.” Aria felt Damon stiffen beside her. She didn’t look at him. She already