Todos los capítulos de THE BOSS'S FORBIDDEN TWINS : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

ELENAThe champagne cork pops and Rachel cheers so loud half the floor looks over.“To Elena!” she yells, glass in the air. “Proof that the craziest ideas sometimes win!”Everyone joins her. Even Marcus lifts his glass, though he looks like the champagne might be poison.I smile. Say thank you. Act normal. Try not to notice Damien watching me from across the room, that look that makes my skin feel hot and too tight.Two weeks. We agreed on two weeks of distance.We can survive two weeks.“Speech!” David shouts.“Oh no—”“Speech! Speech!” The chant grows.I set my glass down, inhale slowly. Try to find words that are not: I’m falling for our CEO and it scares me.“I just want to thank everyone for trusting me. I know my ideas were… different. But this campaign worked because of this team. David’s creativity. Lisa’s numbers. Rachel’s coordination. All of you.”Applause. Real smiles. For the first time since I started here, I feel like I belong.“And thank you to Mr. Blackwood,” I add, v

ELENAThe address Damien sends is in the most expensive part of the city. The kind of neighborhood where doormen wear actual uniforms. Where buildings have names instead of numbers.I stand outside The Cartwright for five whole minutes. Questioning every decision that led me here.Going to his apartment crosses every professional line we’ve tried to keep. If someone sees me walk in… If Marcus has someone watching… If—My phone buzzes.You've been standing outside for four minutes. Either come up or go home. Penthouse. Doorman knows you’re expected. —DBI look up at the tall glass tower. No idea which window is his. But I know he’s there. Watching.The doorman’s name tag says Raymond. He greets me with a polite smile like he’s used to beautiful women arriving for Mr. Blackwood.I shouldn’t care.I do.The elevator to the penthouse needs a key. Raymond hands it to me. “Have a good evening, Ms. Martinez.”He knows my name. Damien told him. He planned this. Not impulsive.That somehow mak

Elena I make it through two hours before everything starts falling apart.Two hours of pretending to work while my brain runs through disasters on repeat.Resign. Lose the job. Lose Damien.Stay. Fight. Watch both our careers burn.There’s no safe choice.At 10 AM, Sophia comes into my office with coffee and worry on her face."You look like death. What happened?"I shut the door. Then I tell her. The photos. Marcus’s cold voice. The five-o’clock deadline.She drops into the chair. "Oh God.""I know.""Who would do this? Who has access to footage like that?""I don’t know. Someone with power. Someone who wants me gone."“Claire,” she says instantly. “She knows everything about Damien. She guards him like a dragon.”“Or Brian Chen. Or anyone who thinks I slept my way in.”"What are you going to do?"The question I hate.I hold up Damien’s pen. The hidden engraving. Because you were right."I think I have to resign.""What? No—Elena, no.""I can’t let this explode. If it gets out, ever

ELENAI reach my apartment with only minutes before Damien arrives. Seven minutes to decide what lie I’ll use, what truth I’ll avoid, what danger I’ll hide.My apartment feels smaller than ever. One bedroom. Fading paint. Thin walls. A life built on survival. While he lives in a penthouse above the whole city. The contrast hurts in a way I hate to admit.I’m halfway out of my work clothes—well, former work clothes—when footsteps stop outside my door. Sharp. Determined.A knock. Hard enough to shake the frame.“Elena. I know you’re in there. Open the door.”My heart kicks up. Another knock—louder. “I’m not leaving. Your neighbors are already listening.”Mrs. Chen is absolutely behind her peephole.I drag on yoga pants and a sweatshirt and open the door.He stands there—rumpled suit, loose tie, wild eyes. Angry. Hurt. Too handsome for my tiny hallway.“Inside,” I whisper. “Before my neighbors create their own version of this.”He steps in. I lock the door. We stare at each other, the ai

ELENADiana moves like she’s in an operating room—calm, exact, cutting clean through lies. Each slide she presents feels like another blow landing on Victoria.“Slide one,” she says. “Timeline. Elena Martinez hired three weeks ago as Senior Marketing Strategist. Days later, photos of her and CEO Damien Blackwood begin circulating.”The screen lights up with the doctored photos. A few board members shift, embarrassed.“Slide two. Upload source. The images came from an executive admin terminal on the ninth floor. Three people used that terminal during the upload windows.”Victoria’s name glows on the screen. Her face doesn’t move, but her knuckles turn white around her pen.“Slide three. Financial records. The editing software used to alter these photos was purchased with a credit card belonging to Victoria Blackwood.”Gasps. Marcus leans forward like he misheard.“That doesn’t prove anything,” Victoria says tightly. “Anyone could have used my card.”“Except the purchase came from your