THE PRICE OF A BILLIONAIRE’S LOVE のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Damon arrived just before midnight. Aria heard his footsteps before she saw him—the familiar weight of his presence, the way the air seemed to shift when he entered a room. Relief surged through her chest, sharp and painful, because now she had to lie to him. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into his arms. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he murmured into her hair. She closed her eyes, breathing him in. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. And for once, the apology meant too many things. He pulled back, hands on her shoulders, scanning her face. “You’re shaking,” he said. “What happened?” She forced a small smile. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He didn’t believe her. “I spoke to security,” he said slowly. “They said Caldwell was here.” Her pulse spiked—but her face stayed calm. “He wanted a statement,” she said carefully. “Procedural.” Damon’s jaw tightened. “I don’t trust him.” Neither do I, she thought. But she only said, “Neither do I.” He studied her

Damon sensed something was wrong the moment he walked in. Aria was standing by the window, arms folded tightly, eyes distant. Not guarded like before—resolved. The kind of resolve that came after a decision had already been made. “What happened?” he asked quietly. She turned. “We need to talk,” she said. His chest tightened. “Okay,” he replied. “I’m listening.” Aria walked toward him slowly, every step heavy with the weight of the truth she’d been carrying alone. She reached into her pocket and placed a small encrypted drive on the table between them. “Caldwell came to see me,” she said. Damon’s jaw hardened instantly. “You said it was procedural.” “It wasn’t,” she admitted. “I lied.” Silence crashed down. Damon didn’t speak. He didn’t move. Aria swallowed hard. “He offered me a deal,” she continued. “I testify against you—imply obstruction, manipulation—and in return, he reopens my father’s murder case.” Damon’s breath left him slowly. “That son of a—” “There’s mor

The city woke up screaming. By morning, every major network carried the same headline: FEDERAL PROSECUTOR JAMES CALDWELL INDICTED ON MULTIPLE COUNTS OF CORRUPTION Aria watched the broadcast in silence, her coffee untouched. Damon stood behind her, arms folded, eyes dark as footage replayed—Caldwell being escorted from his office in handcuffs, reporters shouting questions he no longer had the power to ignore. “They’re calling it the biggest prosecutorial scandal in twenty years,” Ethan said from the kitchen. Aria exhaled slowly. “It’s not justice,” she said. “It’s exposure.” Damon stepped closer, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Sometimes that’s how justice starts.” Her phone buzzed. Message after message. Colleagues. Journalists. Former clients. And one notification that made her fingers still. CASE STATUS UPDATE: E. OKAFOR — REOPENED Her breath caught. “They reopened my father’s case,” she whispered. Damon’s grip tightened gently. “They had no choice.” She tu

Aria Moore ceased to exist on a Tuesday.By noon, her apartment had been vacated—cleaned with ruthless efficiency. No personal effects. No paper trail. Even the faint imprint of her presence had been erased.By afternoon, her phone number was disconnected.By early evening, her credit cards were frozen—by her own request, routed through legal loopholes only someone like Aria Moore knew how to exploit.And by nightfall, the narrative had already settled.DISGRACED LAWYER RETREATS FROM PUBLIC LIFESources cite emotional strain, legal pressure, and burnout.Aria watched the headline scroll past without expression.Perfect.From a quiet farmhouse three hours outside the city—surrounded by empty land, no nearby signals, and a carefully shielded digital perimeter—she observed the collapse of her public self on a secure monitor.The woman the world knew was gone.What remained was something far more dangerous.“They’ve stopped watching you,” Ethan said, adjusting the signal scrambler with pr

The room was silent except for the low hum of the monitor. Aria stared at the words on the screen. CONTINGENCY SIGMA — ACTIVE Her chest tightened. “That’s not a backup plan,” she said slowly. “That’s succession.” Damon followed her gaze, his expression darkening. “If Omega was containment,” he said, “then Sigma is erasure.” The screen flickered again. A new file opened on its own. A name appeared. Not unfamiliar. Not unknown. CHAIRMAN: JONATHAN HALE Aria felt the blood drain from her face. “No,” she whispered. Damon stiffened. “You know him.” “I clerked for him,” she said, voice barely steady. “Years ago. He was… respected. Untouchable. He chaired the ethics commission that reviewed my father’s case.” Damon’s jaw clenched. “He cleared it,” he said. “Yes,” Aria replied. “And signed the closure.” The screen changed again. A video feed activated. Jonathan Hale appeared—silver-haired, composed, eyes sharp with the confidence of a man who had never lost. “Ms. Moore,”