All Chapters of Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!: Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

My heart, which had been rattling around my ribcage like a panicked bird, gradually calmed.The constant, low-grade hum of anxiety about Soraya, about Nicky, about Benji’s bones, just… faded into the white noise of the mist. I felt myself go soft. The tension that lived in my shoulders, my jaw, my spine, began to melt away without any conscious effort.I took a deep, clean breath of the damp air and let it out slowly.I leaned over the edge of the boat, the polished wood cool against my palms, and put out a hand to trail my fingers in the water.It was chilly, a sharp, bracing cold that seemed to cut through the last of the mental fog. It felt clean. Purifying, even.I stared at my own reflection in the rippling, dark surface. It kept shifting, breaking up into fragments, then slowly reforming. It was mesmerising.When was the last time I just sat and did nothing? I wondered, watching my watery doppelgänger. When did I last feel safe enough to not be constantly worrying, scheming, or l

I lifted my head.Portia was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, holding up a slinky black dress.She came over, flipped me over onto my back, brushed the hair from my eyes, and peered at me.‘What happened? You look like you’ve been run over by a golf cart.’I just stared at the ceiling, sinking into a weird, blank state. It was like meditation, if the goal of meditation was to achieve a perfect void of emotional numbness.Portia waved a hand in front of my face. ‘Don’t do this! You’re scaring me. Talk!’After a long moment, I spoke, my voice eerily calm. ‘I bit his throat.’Portia sat on the edge of the sofa. ‘Okay. Go on.’‘I felt him up.’‘And?’‘I kissed him.’‘And?!’‘I tried to sleep with him.’‘YES! AND THEN?!’‘He asked me to be his girlfriend. I said no.’Portia’s face went blank. She knelt up, looming over me. ‘Why the bloody hell not?’‘That,’ I said, my gaze still fixed on the ceiling, ‘is what I’ve been trying to figure out.’‘What did he say? Or rather, what did you

‘No one important,’ Lochlan said, his tone dismissing the subject entirely.I let it drop.He updated me on the case. Soraya had been formally arraigned. Charged with the murder of Benjamin Moss and the attempted murder of Nicky, Portia, Josh, and me. She was remanded in custody.‘She could still walk,’ I said. ‘Good lawyers, doubt, time-lapse…’‘It’s unlikely.’ He then told me about the Duke of Albemarle, Soraya’s secret backer and biological father. Faced with the choice between protecting his deranged daughter or saving his family’s centuries-old reputation from utter ruin, he had chosen the latter. He had withdrawn all support, financial and political.Soraya was done.I listened, impressed and a little unnerved. He’d dug so much deeper, moved pieces on a board I hadn’t even known existed. ‘You know, without you, I’d have probably just made her angrier. I wouldn’t have beaten her.’He acknowledged this with a slight tilt of his head. ‘We made an effective team.’ Then he pounced. ‘S

The boardroom of Velos Capital was never a warm place, but today the temperature seemed to have dipped several degrees below polite.Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows but did nothing to warm up the frosty atmosphere around the mahogany table.I sat at the head, listening to the carefully couched concerns of seven people whose job it was to oversee governance, and whose survival instinct had finally kicked in after Soraya’s little performance.‘The market,’ began Ezra Gilchrist, our longest-serving director and a man who pronounced ‘liquidity’ with more reverence than his wife’s name, ‘needs reassurance, Lochlan. Stability. The brief… unpleasantness with Ms Warren highlighted a vulnerability in the public perception of the company’s leadership.’‘By “unpleasantness”,’ I said, keeping my tone mild, conversational, ‘you mean her fraudulent takeover attempt, embezzlement, and subsequent arrest. Let’s call a spade a spade, Ezra.’A ripple of discomfort.‘Quite,’ he c

I had trouble reconciling the polished, confident headshot from the company directory with the woman in the bed.Sherry McCullers. Head of the New York office. Efficient, reliable Sherry, who Lochlan had trusted to hold the fort across the Atlantic.Also the woman who had lured him to New York and sold him out to Soraya.Now, she was a patchwork of suffering. A bandage wrapped her head, her leg was suspended in a cast, and her face was a canvas of yellowing bruises and angry purple blotches.She looked shattered.My first, horrifying thought was that Lochlan had arranged this.I shot a glance at him, but his face was impassive as he walked to the bedside and carefully, almost tenderly, arranged the lilies on her side table.The scent immediately grew stronger, a funereal perfume.He looked down at her. ‘Sherry. How are you holding up?’Sherry turned her face towards the window, the movement clearly painful. It was hard to read her expression through the damage. ‘Boss.’ Her voice was a