All Chapters of I AM BILLIONAIRE DAMON'S REPLACEMENT BRIDE : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

225 Chapters

SUNDAY BRUNCH

"We don't have to go."Damon was standing in front of the mirror fixing his tie. Again. Third time in five minutes."You're nervous," I said."I'm not—" He stopped. Dropped his hands. "Okay, yeah. I'm nervous.""It's just brunch with your parents.""Sunday brunch. At the club. Where my mother will have opinions about everything from what you order to how you hold your fork.""She already hates me. What's the worst that could happen?"He turned to look at me. "You sure you want to do this?"Honestly? No. I'd rather chew glass than spend two hours with Catherine Sterling. But Damon had been dodging his parents' calls for weeks and apparently his mother was "concerned" about us.Which was code for nosy."It's fine," I said. "I can handle your mom.""Famous last words."The club was exactly what I expected. Old money. Leather chairs. White tablecloths. Everyone dressed like they were going to a funeral for someone important.Catherine was already at the table when we arrived. Hair perfect

LUNCH WITH THE DEVIL

La Bernardin was the kind of place where the silverware probably cost more than my rent used to.I showed up five minutes early because I didn't want to give Catherine the satisfaction of me being late. She was already there. Corner table. Perfect posture. That same string of pearls she probably slept in."Eve." She didn't stand. Just gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit."Not "thank you for coming" or "how are you." Just sit. Like I was a dog.I sat."Would you like something to drink?" she asked."Water's fine.""They have an excellent wine list—""I said water's fine."Her mouth tightened. Good. I wasn't here to play nice.A waiter appeared. Catherine ordered some fancy wine anyway. For herself. Then rattled off her lunch order without looking at the menu."And for you, miss?" The waiter looked at me."The salmon. Thank you."Catherine waited until he left. Then she folded her hands on the table and looked at me like I was something stuck to her shoe."I'll get straight to t

THE CONFRONTATION

I was pacing the living room when Damon walked in.He took one look at my face and stopped dead. "What happened to your cheek?""Your mother happened.""What?""She hit me. At lunch. Slapped me across the face in the middle of La Bernardin."He just stared. Like he couldn't process what I was saying."She...what? No. My mother wouldn't—""She did. In front of like fifty people. Ask anyone who was there.""Why would she...what did you..." He stopped. Started again. "What happened? From the beginning.""She invited me to lunch. Said we needed to talk. So I went.""Without telling me?""She texted me last night. After you fell asleep. I didn't think—I don't know. I thought maybe she wanted to apologize or something.""And?""And she tried to buy me off."Silence."She what?""Offered me a million dollars. To divorce you. Quietly. Said I wasn't right for you. That I'm common. That we're from different worlds."His jaw clenched. That muscle jumping."She said that.""Word for word. Called

AFTERMATH

I didn't sleep.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Catherine's face. Heard her voice. Common. Middling. Not our kind of people.Around three AM, I gave up and went to the kitchen.Damon found me twenty minutes later, sitting in the dark eating cereal."Can't sleep?"I shook my head.He sat down across from me. Didn't turn on the lights. Just sat there in the dark while I ate."Talk to me," he said finally."Nothing to talk about.""Bullshit."I set down my spoon. "I keep thinking about what she said. About me not being—about not fitting. And I know it's stupid. I know she's just a bitter old woman who can't control her son anymore. But it still—""Gets in your head.""Yeah.""She's good at that. Finding the thing you're already worried about and poking it until it bleeds.""Is that what she does to you?"He was quiet for a second. "Used to. When I was younger. Now I just don't listen.""Must be nice. Having that superpower.""It's not a superpower. It's just practice. Years of practic

THE PACKAGE

Monday morning I woke up to the doorbell ringing.Repeatedly."Someone's dead," Damon muttered into his pillow."It's seven AM.""Still dead. Whoever's at the door."I dragged myself up and grabbed his shirt off the floor. Pulled it on and shuffled to the door.The doorman was standing there with a massive box."Mrs. Sterling. This arrived for you. Required signature.""I didn't order anything.""It's from Mrs. Catherine Sterling."My stomach dropped."Just...leave it. Thanks."He set it down in the entryway and left. I stared at the box like it might explode.Damon appeared behind me. "What's that?""From your mother apparently.""Want me to throw it away?""Maybe we should...I don't know. See what it is first?""Why? It's probably some passive-aggressive bullshit."He was probably right. But curiosity won.I grabbed scissors and cut through the tape. Opened the flaps.Inside were clothes. Designer clothes. Dresses and shoes and bags I'd never buy for myself. All with tags still on.

THE MEETING

Saturday afternoon I changed outfits four times before settling on jeans and a sweater.Casual. Not trying too hard.But the jeans were the expensive ones Damon had insisted on buying me last week. And the sweater was cashmere. So casual with an asterisk."You look fine," Damon said from the bed where he'd been watching me spiral for twenty minutes."I look like I'm trying too hard.""You look like you're meeting my mother for coffee. Which you are. Stop overthinking.""Easy for you to say. She didn't slap you.""No, she just emotionally terrorized me for thirty years. We've all got our trauma."I grabbed my jacket. "Let's get this over with."The coffee shop was neutral territory, not her club, not our neighborhood. Some place in Midtown neither of us had been to before.Catherine was already there when we arrived. Corner table. Back to the wall. Watching the door like she was calculating escape routes.She stood when she saw us. Smoothed her skirt. That fake smile plastered on."Dam

THE GALA

The ballroom was everything I'd imagined and worse.Crystal chandeliers. Marble floors. People in clothes that cost more than my yearly salary. Everyone looking like they'd been born holding champagne flutes.I wanted to turn around and leave."Breathe," Damon said quietly."I am breathing.""No, you're hyperventilating. There's a difference."He was right. My chest felt tight. Like someone was squeezing."I can't do this.""Yes you can.""Damon—""Look at me." He stopped walking. Turned to face me. "You can do this. You just told my mother off three hours ago. This is nothing compared to that.""That was different.""How?""There weren't five hundred people watching.""So pretend there's nobody watching. Just you and me.""That's terrible advice.""It's the only advice I've got."A waiter passed with champagne. Damon grabbed two glasses. Handed me one."Liquid courage," he said.I drank half of it in one go."Easy. Don't want you drunk before we even get inside.""Might be the only w

MONDAY MORNING

I woke up Monday to my phone ringing.Not buzzing. Ringing. Like someone was actually calling me.At seven in the morning.I grabbed it without looking. "Hello?""Eve Morgan?"Not a voice I recognized. Female. Professional."Sterling. Eve Sterling. Who's this?""This is Vanessa Sea from Page Six. I'm calling about the Grayson Gala this weekend. Do you have a moment to comment?"I sat up. "What? No. I don't...how did you get this number?""We'd love to get your perspective on some photos that surfaced from the event. Particularly regarding your early departure..."I hung up.Stared at the phone.It rang again. Different number.I didn't answer."What's going on?" Damon mumbled from beside me."Someone from Page Six just called me.""What?" He was awake now. "Why?""Something about photos from the gala. About us leaving early.""Shit."He grabbed his phone. Scrolled. His face went dark."What?" I asked.He showed me.There on Page Six's website was a photo. Me on the terrace. Looking up

CANCELLED

The next day I was a mess.Two PM. Café near Central Park. Meeting my sister for the first time since she'd abandoned her wedding and ruined my life.No big deal.I changed clothes three times. Settled on jeans and a sweater. Nothing fancy. Nothing that screamed "I'm doing better than you."Even though part of me wanted to show up dripping in diamonds just to prove a point."You sure you don't want me to come?" Damon asked for the fifth time."I'm sure.""I could wait outside. In the car. Just in case.""In case what? She attacks me?""In case you need backup.""I'll be fine. It's just coffee.""With the sister who left you to clean up her mess.""I'm aware."He pulled me close. Kissed my forehead. "Call me if you need me. Any reason. I'll be there in five minutes.""It's Manhattan. You can't get anywhere in five minutes.""I'll make it work."I grabbed my bag. Checked my phone. 1:47 PM."Okay. I'm going."

THE HAMPTONS

The house wasn't a house. It was a compound.Glass walls. Ocean views. So much space I could probably get lost trying to find the bathroom."This is where you vacation?" I asked."Sometimes. Haven't been here in a while.""How long is a while?""Two years? Maybe three?""You own a beach house you haven't used in three years?""I own several properties I haven't used in years.""That's...I don't even know what to say to that."He grabbed our bags from the car. The driver had already left, it was just us now.Inside was exactly what I expected. Expensive furniture, art on the walls, everything white and pristine like no one actually lived here."You hungry?" Damon asked."Starving.""Kitchen should be stocked. Let's see what we've got."The kitchen was bigger than my old apartment. Marble counters. Professional grade everything. A fridge full of food that someone had somehow arranged to be there in the two hours since Damon made the call."This is insane," I said."What?""All of this.

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