All Chapters of The Wolfe's Deal : Married My Ex Fiance's Billionaire Enemy : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The morning air was thick with a grey, suffocating mist that clung to the windshield of the SUV. I had spent an hour convincing Lena to stay behind at the penthouse. It hadn't been an easy fight. She wanted to be my shield, but I needed her to be the anchor for Leo. If Martha had a secondary play something that involved the school or the house, I needed Lena there to protect our son. "I’ll be back by noon," I had told her, kissing her forehead. "She can’t hurt me with words, Lena. I’ve heard the worst of them already." Now, as I pulled up the long, winding drive of the Greywood estate, the house looked like a tomb. I left my security team at the perimeter, instructed to move in only if I gave the signal via my watch. This had to be done face-to-face. I needed to see the mask slip. I found Martha in the sunroom. It was the brightest room in the house, but she sat in the corner where the shadows lingered. She was dressed in a simple, high-necked black dress, her hands folded over a s

The silence in the sunroom stretched until it felt like it would snap. Martha stood there, the lighter’s flame flickering in her eyes, her hand trembling as she waited for me to erase the only evidence of her sins. She was offering me a clean slate, a world where our secrets stayed buried and the Wolfe empire remained untouchable.But it was a world built on the bones of my father and the lies of a woman who didn't know the meaning of enough.I looked down at the "delete" button on my screen. My thumb hovered there for a heartbeat. Then, I slowly pulled my hand away and slipped the phone into my inner coat pocket."No," I said.The word was quiet, but it carried the weight of a closing vault.Martha’s face went white. The lighter fell from her hand, clattering onto the marble floor, the flame dying out against the cold stone. "Adrian, did you hear a word I said? The London family... the lawyers... they will strip you of everything! You are choosing a dead man over your own survival!"

The courier was a young man in a crisp suit, looking far too professional for a delivery boy. He didn't ask for a signature; he simply handed me a heavy, cream-colored envelope sealed with thick, black wax. The seal bore the crest of a law firm I recognized from my father’s old international files. "Mr. Wolfe," the man said with a slight nod. "My instructions were to ensure this reached your hands and yours alone. Good evening." He turned and left before I could ask a single question. I walked back into the study, the weight of the envelope feeling like a lead brick. Lena was standing by the desk, her eyes tracking my every move. I didn't say anything as I picked up a silver letter opener. My hands, usually as steady as a surgeon’s, had a slight, irritating tremor. I broke the wax. Inside wasn't a stack of legal demands or a lawsuit. It was a single, yellowed sheet of paper and a photograph. I looked at the photo first. It was my father, Thomas Wolfe. He looked younger, ma

Lena's Pov The air in my office felt stale, despite the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Adrian couldn’t leave New York; with Tristan breathing down the neck of the Board, every hour Adrian spent away from the office was an hour Tristan could use to stage a coup. We were trapped in a defensive crouch, waiting for the blow to land. "I’ve sent Marcus," Adrian had told me this morning, his voice tight. Marcus was his most trusted operative a man who lived in the shadows and spoke in data points. He was already on a red-eye to London, tasked with digging into Tristan’s past and finding the cracks in his "Golden Son" armor. But as I sat at my desk, trying to focus on the latest manuscript for *Horizon*, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The door didn't click open; it swung wide with an effortless, arrogant sort of grace. Tristan Wolfe walked in, carrying two cups of artisan coffee and a smile that looked like it had been polished by a professional. "I hope yo

The evidence was sitting in a folder on my desk, a digital ghost that could end Tristan’s career with a single click. I looked at the screen, then at Lena, who was watching me with an intensity that matched the storm brewing outside the penthouse windows. "You're not going to use it," she said. It wasn't a question; she knew me too well. "Not yet," I replied, closing the laptop. "If I reveal this now, Tristan becomes a martyr. The Board will see it as a desperate smear campaign. I want him to think he’s winning. I want him to get comfortable, to get arrogant. That’s when men like him make mistakes." "It’s a dangerous gamble, Adrian," Lena warned, stepping closer. "He’s already whispering in the ears of the shareholders. If the vote goes his way tomorrow, it won't matter what secrets his mother had. He'll have the keys to the building." "Then we make sure the vote doesn't happen tomorrow," I said, a slow, cold smile spreading across my face. The next morning, the Wolfe Media