All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE HIDDEN SIN : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Edwin’s POVThe archive room on level 38 smelled like old paper, dust, and the faint metallic bite of decades-old air-conditioning filters that had never been replaced. It was one of those forgotten corners of Ashcroft Global, low ceiling, narrow aisles, rows of filing cabinets and bound ledgers no one had digitized because “it’s historical, not operational.” Mrs. Callahan had sent me down here with a simple order: pull the 2015–2018 board-meeting minutes for the quarterly compliance audit. Busy work. Punishment, maybe, for taking too long on yesterday’s upper-floor runs.I didn’t mind. The quiet was a relief after the hallway encounter with Victor Hale. No eyes on me. No elevators chiming. No, Daniel watching from forty-five floors above like a hawk circling something already bleeding.I dragged the rolling ladder along the track, climbed to the third shelf, and started pulling the heavy black binders labeled by fiscal year. Dust puffed into the air each time I tugged one free. I sne

Edwin’s POVThe desk was massive, dark walnut, polished to a mirror sheen, wide enough that Daniel could have laid me flat across it without knocking over a single pen. Instead, he bent me over the edge, chest pressed to the cool wood, arms stretched forward until my fingertips brushed the far side. My shirt was rucked up to my armpits, pants shoved down just past my thighs, belt still looped loosely around my wrists like an afterthought restraint.Daniel stood behind me, fully dressed except for the open fly of his trousers and the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The city lights streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, striping his forearms in gold and shadow every time he moved. He hadn’t turned on the overheads. The only illumination came from the desk lamp, angled low, and the skyline itself, enough light to see every detail, not enough to feel exposed to the entire city forty-five floors below.His palm settled between my shoulder blades, warm, steady, pinning me exactly wher

Edwin’s POVThe fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor buzzed like a swarm of distant insects, too steady to ignore but too familiar to truly annoy. I leaned against the wall outside Mom’s room, arms crossed tight over my chest, staring at the scuffed linoleum tiles without really seeing them. Ruby had left twenty minutes ago, insisting on taking the bus home despite the unmarked car waiting downstairs. “I need to feel normal for five minutes,” she’d said, voice muffled against my shoulder during our goodbye hug. I hadn’t argued. Normal was a luxury we hadn’t had in months.Inside the room, Mom slept fitfully. The latest round of pain meds had kicked in, smoothing the lines around her mouth but leaving her breath shallow and ragged. The doctor had pulled me aside earlier: “We’re managing symptoms now. The bills are piling up, but we’ll keep her comfortable as long as we can.” He’d patted my shoulder in that awkward way medical professionals do when they know there’s no good news

Edwin’s POVThe hotel suite smelled of cedarwood, expensive linen, and the faint metallic edge of anticipation that always clung to Daniel’s skin when he was in this mood.He’d booked the entire top floor of the Meridian, three bedrooms, a private terrace overlooking the river, blackout curtains already drawn across every window. No housekeeping. No interruptions. Just us, from Friday night until Sunday morning.I’d barely crossed the threshold when he closed the door behind me with a soft, final click. No greeting. No small talk. He simply stepped forward, cupped the back of my neck, and kissed me like he’d been starving for it since the moment I left his office on Thursday.The kiss was bruising, teeth and tongue, and the low growl in his throat when I bit back. My bag hit the floor somewhere near the entry table. My jacket followed. By the time he pulled away, I was already breathing hard, shirt half-unbuttoned, lips swollen.“Strip,” he said. Voice low. Calm. The same tone he used

Edwin’s POVThe rooftop of the Meridian was empty except for us.Daniel had booked the entire space,no other tables, no waitstaff hovering, no ambient chatter from strangers. Just one long table set for two near the glass railing, white linens catching the last gold of sunset, candles already lit even though it was barely dusk. The city sprawled below like a glittering map someone had spilled ink across,river black and silver, bridges strung with light, towers punching holes in the sky. A low jazz trio played from the far corner,piano, bass, brushed drums,soft enough that the notes felt private, meant only for the two people who’d paid to own the night.I stood at the railing for a long minute after the elevator doors closed behind me, wind tugging at my shirt cuffs, trying to remember how to breathe normally. Daniel had texted the dress code earlier: No tie, Dark jacket, Something you feel good in. I’d chosen the charcoal blazer Ruby had found at a second-hand shop last winter,simp