Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire’s Debt Bride: Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

Mara POV The next week is strange. Careful. Like we’re both walking on glass, afraid any wrong move will shatter whatever fragile peace we’ve found.Lucien keeps his word about not running. He’s there every morning with coffee. Leaves notes that are honest instead of careful. Asks how my day was and actually listens to the answer. Doesn’t hide in his study when things feel heavy.But I can’t shake Evelyn’s warnings. Can’t stop waiting for the other shoe to drop. Can’t fully let my guard down.“You’re still protecting yourself,” Diana observes during one of our video calls. “I can see it in your face.”“Can you blame me?” I’m lying on my bed, phone propped on a pillow. “After everything?”“No. But Mara, you can’t live in this limbo forever. Either you trust him or you don’t. Either you’re in this or you’re not.”“It’s not that simple…”“It is exactly that simple.” Her voice is gentle but firm. “You’re keeping one foot out the door, ready to run if he runs first. That’s not a relations

Mara POVI return to the gala on autopilot.The contract was one thing. We prepared for that. We had countermeasures.But this—my father’s medical records, the safety violations, the injured workers—this is something else entirely. This is ammunition that will destroy not just our reputation but our fundamental narrative. Turn us from sympathetic to suspicious.And Evelyn knows I can’t fight back without risking everything.“Mara.”Lucien appears beside me, his hand finding the small of my back with the practiced ease of months of performance. But the touch isn’t performative now—it’s grounding, searching. His eyes scan my face with an intensity that makes my chest tight.“You’ve been gone for twenty minutes.” His voice is low enough that only I can hear it beneath the orchestra. “What did Evelyn want?”I can’t tell him. Not here, surrounded by society vultures who are already watching us too closely, already looking for cracks in the facade. Not yet. Not until I figure out what I’m g

Mara POVI find my parents at their apartment, Diana there too—Sunday brunch tradition we’ve maintained despite everything.They all look up when I enter, smiles fading when they see my face.“Mara? What’s wrong?” Mom asks immediately.I set my purse on the table. The dissolution papers inside feel like they weigh a thousand pounds.“I need to ask you something, Dad. About the accident. About the construction company.”His expression closes off immediately. “Why?”“Because Evelyn Rowe has your complete medical file. And documentation about OSHA safety violations three months before your accident. And testimony from other workers who were injured on your sites.”The color drains from his face.“Dad?” Diana looks between us. “What is she talking about?”“Nothing,” he says quickly. “Ancient history. The company was struggling, corners were cut, it happens in construction...”“It’s not nothing if Evelyn’s weaponizing it.” I sink into a chair. “She threatened to leak everything unless I le

Mara POVI didn’t go back to the manor. I told Lucien I needed more time, which is true, and didn’t tell him why, which is cowardice, and I’ve been sitting in this room since last night cycling between almost signing and almost calling him and doing neither.The dissolution papers are on my childhood desk.I’ve moved them twice—once to the windowsill, once back to the desk—as if location is the problem. As if I’m going to look at them from a slightly different angle and suddenly know what to do.My father’s words haven’t stopped: Don’t trade your happiness for my reputation. He meant them. I know he meant them. But meaning something and it being safe are different things, and I have spent enough of my life learning that particular difference that I can’t just stop knowing it because someone who loves me asked me to.Diana finds me at eight in the morning.She doesn’t say anything. She looks at me, looks at the papers, walks to the desk, picks them up, and puts them on the far side of

Lucien POV“I loved you. For three years, I loved you. That wasn’t a transaction.” Evelyn went on.“No,” I say, pushing her backward. “It was worse than a transaction. A transaction is honest about what it is.” I hold her gaze. “You sat across from me at my father’s table for three years. You smiled at his partners, memorized their wives’ names, learned which wines they preferred. And the entire time, you were feeding proprietary information from my company to Darius Kale’s people because your father’s debts had finally caught up with the Ashford name and you needed a lifeline that didn’t require admitting to anyone that the Duke’s fortune was gone.”The color drains from her face so completely and so fast that for a moment she looks like someone else entirely.“I loved you,” she says again, quieter now.“You loved what loving me could fix. There’s a difference.” I don’t raise my voice. I don’t need to. “And when I found out — when I made sure the right people knew exactly what you’d