Semua Bab Married to the billionaire who broke me: Bab 21 - Bab 30

‎Chapter Twenty-Two: The Night He Lost Control ‎ ‎Ethan Blackwood did not rage. ‎ ‎That was what terrified them. ‎ ‎The war room was silent—too silent. Screens glowed with data, threats, shifting alliances. Men who had survived coups, blood feuds, and financial wars stood rigid, eyes forward, breathing shallow. ‎ ‎No one spoke. ‎ ‎Ethan stood at the head of the table, hands braced against the polished surface, head slightly bowed. His stillness felt like the pause before a bullet left the chamber. ‎ ‎“She released it anyway,” one man finally said, voice tight. “The second wave. Anonymous, but it’s hers.” ‎ ‎Ethan lifted his head. ‎ ‎The look in his eyes made the room recoil. ‎ ‎Not anger. ‎ ‎Decision. ‎ ‎“Lock down everything,” he said quietly. “Every channel. Every contact she’s touched in the last twenty-four hours.” ‎ ‎“Yes—” ‎ ‎“And find out,” Ethan continued calmly, “who encouraged her.” ‎ ‎A pause. ‎ ‎“Sir… that list includes people in this room.”

‎Chapter Twenty-Four: The Moment the World Tilted ‎ ‎Ethan Blackwood walked into the trap like it was an invitation. ‎ ‎Arrogant didn’t begin to describe it. ‎ ‎He wore a charcoal suit cut to perfection, no tie, cufflinks etched with the Blackwood crest—subtle, old, unmistakable. His stride was unhurried. His posture radiated the kind of confidence that told the world he expected it to move out of his way. ‎ ‎Men noticed. ‎ ‎They always did. ‎ ‎I noticed something else. ‎ ‎He wasn’t carrying a weapon. ‎ ‎“Do you plan to insult them with confidence alone?” I murmured as we exited the car. ‎ ‎He didn’t look at me. “Weapons announce fear.” ‎ ‎“And arrogance?” I asked. ‎ ‎“That,” he said coolly, “announces inevitability.” ‎ ‎The location was a private industrial gallery—steel, glass, concrete, curated to look neutral. Neutral spaces were always chosen for bloodless violence. Deals made here ended careers, not lives. ‎ ‎At least, that was the intention. ‎ ‎Secur

‎Chapter Twenty-Six: When the World Watched Him Choose ‎ ‎Valeria moved like poison dressed in silk. ‎ ‎She didn’t rush. ‎She didn’t force. ‎She waited. ‎ ‎That was how she had always destroyed people—by letting them destroy themselves first. ‎ ‎From the moment she arrived, the atmosphere inside the Blackwood world shifted. Meetings grew colder. Invitations multiplied. Old allies resurfaced with smiles too eager, eyes too knowing. Valeria slipped into rooms Isabella had never been invited into, conversations that fell silent when she entered, secrets that tasted old and dangerous. ‎ ‎And Ethan let it happen. ‎ ‎That was the first wound. ‎ ‎Isabella noticed everything. ‎ ‎She noticed how Valeria touched Ethan’s arm when she spoke, as if muscle memory still owned him. How she leaned in close during strategy briefings, whispering things that made his jaw tighten—not with anger, but with restraint. How she laughed softly when he snapped, like she knew the reason behind e

‎Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Lie That Brought Them Close ‎ ‎Valeria believed separation was a science. ‎ ‎Pressure here. ‎Distance there. ‎A whisper timed precisely when doubt was already bleeding through the cracks. ‎ ‎She had watched Ethan Blackwood dismantle empires with less effort. ‎ ‎So dismantling a woman who loved him should have been easy. ‎ ‎It should have been. ‎ ‎Her plan was elegant. ‎ ‎Cruel. ‎ ‎Perfect. ‎ ‎She leaked a rumor—carefully curated, devastatingly believable—into the one place Isabella could not ignore: Ethan’s inner circle. ‎ ‎Not the press. ‎ ‎Not the public. ‎ ‎But him. ‎ ‎The rumor said Isabella had been meeting someone. ‎That she had been preparing for life after the contract. ‎That her loyalty had an expiration date that had already passed. ‎ ‎Valeria made sure the proof looked airtight. ‎ ‎Photographs taken from angles that lied convincingly. Messages stripped of context. A schedule that

‎Chapter Thirty: Truth, Arriving Too Late ‎ ‎The silence after disgrace was louder than applause. ‎ ‎Isabella learned that quickly. ‎ ‎In the days that followed the council meeting, the world did not shout at her. It did not accuse her openly. It simply withdrew. Invitations vanished. Calls went unanswered. Faces that once warmed at her presence now turned politely blank. ‎ ‎Worse than hatred was erasure. ‎ ‎She still lived in the Blackwood penthouse, because the contract demanded appearances until its final day. Four months remained. Four months of being a ghost in a place that had once felt like a battlefield she was learning to survive. ‎ ‎Ethan rarely spoke to her. ‎ ‎When he did, his voice was cool, controlled, indifferent—like she was a problem already solved. ‎ ‎That indifference hurt more than his cruelty ever had. ‎ ‎She woke one morning to find her access completely restricted. Even her personal terminal—once linked to Blackwood systems for scheduling and c