Todos los capítulos de Forbidden By Her Sister's Husband : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The honeymoon was a blur of forced luxury and cold distance.To Aria, the silence in the house while they were away had felt like an eternity. She spent her days trapped within the gates of the estate, her only connection to her studies being the heavy textbooks she read in the library, staring at the driveway and waiting for a car that wasn't there.She saw the photos on I*******m. Cassandra in a bikini. Cassandra on a yacht. Cassandra smiling, smiling, smiling. Damian was never in the photos.Aria told herself she was glad. She told herself she hated him. He was cruel. He was a tyrant. But the silence in the house was loud, and it screamed his name.When they finally returned, the December air had grown even sharper, the city bracing for the final week before the holidays. Damian and Cassandra were staying at the Hale estate only for the week to finalize the merger integration before moving into Damian’s city penthouse, but his presence already made the massive house feel cramped.It

The winter nights in New York didn't just arrive; they settled over the city like a heavy, frozen shroud. The sleet was relentless, washing the grime off the city streets and leaving behind a slick, black polish that mirrored the suffocating mood of the Hale estate.It had been only a handful of days since the wedding. Days of silence. Days of Sunday dinners where the air was so thick with tension it felt hard to swallow the food.Tonight was the Cross Foundation Winter Gala. It was the crown jewel of the social calendar, held in the Temple of Dendur at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was a night for billionaires to congratulate themselves for being rich.Aria stood in the center of her bedroom, staring at the dress hanging on the door. It wasn’t the mauve disaster. It wasn’t the silver silk from the wedding. It was a navy blue gown she had bought online with her own money. It was high-necked, long-sleeved, and shapeless enough to hide everything.She put it on. It made her look lik

The morning after the pool party, the silence in the breakfast room of the Obsidian Penthouse was not peaceful. It was the silence of a courtroom after the sentence had already been passed.Aria sat at the far end of the sleek table, her packed suitcase already waiting by the elevator. Her hands were folded in her lap, hidden beneath the tablecloth. She kept her head down, staring at the untouched toast on her plate. Her headache was a dull, rhythmic thumping behind her eyes.She hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the water closing over her head and the heavy, suffocating weight of Damian’s suit jacket on her shoulders.Cassandra was sitting opposite her, wearing oversized sunglasses to hide the evidence of her hangover. She looked pale, vicious, and triumphant. Damian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to the room. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, immaculate and severe. He held a cup of black coffee, staring out at the rain-lashed skyline of the city

The transition from the rotting, wet silence of the Lake House to the steel-and-glass scream of New York City was jarring. It felt as though Aria had been plucked from one circle of hell and dropped into another—one that was far more expensive and infinitely more dangerous.Aria sat in the back of the black Maybach, her forehead pressed against the cold glass of the window. Outside, the December sky was a bruised charcoal gray, and the sleet turned the city into a jagged landscape of shadows and neon. The city looked like a jaw of jagged teeth biting into the clouds, ready to swallow anyone who wasn't strong enough to fight back.Damian sat next to her, a monolith of frozen silence.He hadn’t spoken a single word to her since they had pulled out of the Lake House driveway. He spent the entire three-hour drive on a conference call, his voice low and clipped as he switched effortlessly between Mandarin, French, and a sharp, icy English. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t acknowledge the fa

The basement was a place where time went to die. Three floors below the pavement of the city, there were no windows to show the passage of the sun, no shifting shadows to mark the hours, and no seasons to change the temperature. There was only the low, constant hum of the massive industrial ventilation system and the dry, biting smell of oxidizing paper that seemed to coat the back of Aria’s throat like a layer of fine silt.Aria had been working in the Archives for weeks, and in that time, she had become a ghost. Her entire existence had been reduced to a vertical shaft of glass and concrete. Her mornings began in the sterile, high-tech silence of Unit 40B. She would dress in the clothes Damian had provided—clothes that felt like a uniform for a role she never asked for and then she would take the freight elevator.She avoided the main lobby. She avoided the people. She slipped through the service corridors, a shadow moving through the "grey world" of the building, descending until sh