Lahat ng Kabanata ng Marrying The Disabled Billionaire Heir : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

HELENEAmidst my confusion, I heard Camille speak.“From what I can remember, this engagement wasn’t originally supposed to fall upon Noemie. In fact, Lucien and Helene were the better match, with their ages being almost the same…”Her words Instantly pulled all of us back into old memories.Indeed, before the age of fifteen, I had always known that I had a fiancé.The engagement between the Laurent and Blackthorne families had been established during our grandfathers’ generation—long before I was even born. Originally, it was meant to unite the eldest daughter and eldest son of the main branches of both families.However, neither my father nor Mrs. Blackthorne had any interest in each other. They already had partners of their own—my mother and Lucien’s father.Naturally, the possibility of marrying their other children was considered. But with the Laurent family, they hit a snag—my father was an only child.With no suitable counterpart on our side, the match quietly fell through.An

HELENE Rather than being stumped by my questions, Camille smiled.“I’ll answer your questions one by one,” she said calmly. “First—Lucien.”“You don’t want to marry him? But Helene, at the very least, you’re familiar with him. He’s cold, yes, but he’s also known to be a gentleman.”She tilted her head slightly. “If you wait for our parents to arrange another match for you, can you guarantee the next man will be even half as decent?”“I—”She waved me off.“I know what you want to say,” she continued. “That you’re your own person. That they can’t force you to marry someone you dislike.”Her tone sharpened, but just a little.“But that thinking is nothing short of naïve, Helene.”“The moment you were born a Laurent, your fate was already sealed. The family has to ‘recoup' the cost of raising you.”“And for a woman,” she added evenly, “that cost is repaid through marriage to a suitable match, chosen by them.”“There’s no escape,” she said, her voice calm and matter-of-factly, “unless yo

HELENEMorning sunlight filtered through the curtains and spilled across the bed.Feeling the warmth brushing against my skin, I cracked my eyes open and glanced at the baby-pink alarm clock resting on the bedside table.6:09 AM.Still early.With no pressing obligations weighing on my mind, I closed my eyes again, reluctant to leave the comfort of the blankets.A heartbeat later, they suddenly flew open.My plants!Summer had arrived: the soil dried quickly at this time of year.The thought of them sitting in the heat, thirsty and waiting, swept away the last traces of sleep. I pushed myself upright, threw off the covers, and hurried downstairs.—Three years ago, after I graduated from college, my maternal grandparents left this house in the old university district to me before moving to the countryside to run a small farm.They had retired from their professorships long ago—during my first year of high school—and should have left then. But worried about how I'd fare at the Laurent

HELENEI had barely driven out of the villa compound where the Laurents lived when an incoming call notification lit up the dashboard screen.Grandma.I used to think that after all these years—and with the memories of my past life—I had successfully detached myself from whatever the Laurents did.But the moment I saw her name, my eyes began to sting.How could I not feel anything?How could I not harbor resentment?I had tried—truly tried—to fit into that family. And in the end, I had been left with nothing.Of course I felt indignant.Of course I felt hurt.I had simply learned how to bury it.The road ahead became blurred.I quickly pulled over to the side, rolled down the window, and drew in a slow breath of air, trying to calm myself.Only after forcing a smile onto my face did I answer the call.“Grandma,” I called softly.“Sweetheart,” came her bright, energetic voice, “your grandpa and I mailed some freshly harvested produce to you yesterday. Have you received it yet?”I insti

HELENELucien’s home was located in another ultra-exclusive villa community at the west end of the city.The highly coveted Monarch Park—a place where owning even an inch of land meant you were a millionaire.But money alone wasn’t enough to become a resident. Prestige, connections, and reputation were equally important requirements.I had already been cleared by Lucien in advance, so when I arrived at the tall, intimidating gates guarded by security officers, my name was quickly confirmed on the visitor list. Thus, I was allowed inside without delay and given directions to his residence.Following the directions, I soon reached the last property at the far end of the road. An impressive gold-embossed nameplate mounted on the gate pillar gleamed under the early afternoon sun.It bore only three numbers—001—yet it made a statement all on its own. After all, unique numbers like that were reserved only for developers or original owners.And if my memory served me right, Monarch Park was