Semua Bab Married To My Fiancé's Enemy : Bab 11 - Bab 20

The gold-leafed double doors of the private dining hall swung open, and for a second, the room went silent.Lila felt like a queen walking into her coronation, or her execution. She was draped in a floor-length, midnight-blue gown that clung to her curves like a second skin, her neck adorned with the Sterling Sapphires. Beside her, Adrian was the personification of power, his hand possessively firm on her waist."Smile, Lila," he murmured, his voice a ghost of a warning against her ear. "The sharks can smell blood, and tonight, you’re the bait."Although this is just a private dinner that Zayed organized to honor their arrival and not the official Al-Hamad dinner.They hadn't even reached the table before the first predator struck."There they are! The stars of the evening!"Linda’s voice cut through the elegant hum of the room like a jagged blade. She was already seated at the massive mahogany table, nestled dangerously close to Zayed Al-Hamad. She had changed into a shimmering gold

The motorcade cut through the rolling dunes like a fleet of white sharks. Inside the lead Rolls-Royce, the air was a pressurized pocket of silence. Lila sat as far from Adrian as the leather seat allowed, her body draped in a gold-woven kaftan. It was a heavy, magnificent garment that made her look like a desert deity, but inside, she felt like she was breathing through glass.Adrian hadn't spoken a word since they left the Burj. He was back on his tablet, his thumb scrolling through market shifts as if his wife wasn't sitting three feet away, vibrating with suppressed rage."We’re here," he said tonelessly, not looking up.The Al-Hamad desert estate was a fortress of glass and stone rising out of the shifting sands. The signing ceremony was staged in an open-air pavilion, where massive marble pillars held up a floating silk canopy. Deep crimson rugs covered the sand, leading to a singular glass table that shimmered like ice in the brutal midday heat.Linda was already there, standing

The desert morning didn't arrive with a gentle glow; it broke like a blade of light cutting through the silk curtains of the Al-Hamad master suite.Lila hadn't slept a single wink. She had spent the entire night in the estate’s grand library, her fingers tracing the edges of ancient maps as she rehearsed the final protocols for the morning’s farewell brunch. She wanted to be more than just a beautiful accessory; she wanted to be the Sterling Adrian expected. In her hand, she carried a small, hand-painted porcelain compass, a delicate piece she’d found in the gallery. It was meant to be a symbolic gift, a silent promise that no matter how vast their empire became, they would always find their way back to the truth of each other.She pushed the heavy, carved oak doors open with her shoulder, a soft, tired smile tugging at her lips. She expected to find Adrian waking up, perhaps reaching for her side of the bed in that sleepy, possessive way he had done only once before.The porcelain co

The wheels of the Vanquish II shrieked against the tarmac of the airport, a violent jolt that signaled their return to a reality far colder than the desert.As the cabin pressurized, Linda leaned back in her plush leather seat, her fingers dancing across her phone screen with a rhythmic, manic energy. She wasn't looking at the Manhattan skyline. She was looking at the future she had finally carved out of Lila’s wreckage.She opened an encrypted thread and typed a single message."She’s broken. We’re landing now. Get the champagne ready, Marcus. I’m bringing her back to you on her knees sooner than you think."A reply came almost instantly."I’m ready. Make it hurt, Linda."Linda’s lips curled. She glanced across the aisle at Adrian. He had been silent for the last four hours, his silver eyes fixed on the horizon as if he were watching a storm roll in. He hadn't fought her. He hadn't tried to negotiate for the phone. He hadn't even looked in Lila’s direction. To Linda, his silence was

The silence of the Sterling penthouse was far more suffocating than the roar of the gala’s applause.The city lights of Manhattan stretched out beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass like a carpet of cold diamonds, but inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and the metallic tang of a dying war. Adrian stood by the bar, his tuxedo jacket discarded on a velvet armchair. He was pouring a glass of neat bourbon, the ice-blue light of the city reflecting off the sharp planes of his face.Lila stood by the window, her back to him. She had stripped off the gold jewelry, the "Sterling shackles," as she now thought of them—leaving them in a glittering pile on the marble table."You should have told me," she said, her voice a low, vibrating thread of steel.Adrian didn't turn. "I told you why I didn't. Information is a currency, Lila. If I had given you the script, you wouldn't have played the part with such devastating honesty. Linda had to believe she had destroyed you. It was