Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The air in Damien’s office smelled like cedar wood and a coming storm. Four years later, I still knew that scent before I saw his face. I stood right by the huge glass windows, looking out at the city buildings below. From up here, the traffic looked silent. The people looked small enough to disappear.​He always liked being at the very top. But looking at him now, standing against the glass, he didn’t look like a winner. He just looked completely alone.​My phone buzzed in my hand. I hoped it was good news, but it was just an email from the boss of my building project in Brooklyn.​Subject: Project Update​Ellie, because of all the messy news stories right now, our board has decided to go with someone else. We like your drawings, but we need to keep a clean image for this new building. We will pay your final bill by Friday.​I squeezed my phone so hard the edges hurt my skin. That project was supposed to pay my rent for the next six months. It was the biggest piece of my own business,

The weight of the pen in my hand felt like a lead pipe. I stared down at the document on Damien’s desk, the heavy words blurring into a mess of black ink and white space. Marriage Contract. It was a ridiculous, impossible concept, yet here it was, sitting on a slab of polished wood in the middle of a Manhattan skyscraper.​I looked up at Damien. He was watching me with that terrifying, patient quietness. He didn't look like a man who had just proposed a fake marriage; he looked like a man pretending he had already won.​"The clock is ticking, Ellie," he said, his voice low and steady. "The papers are waiting to put that story about your eviction online. Your clients are already looking for someone else. You have exactly ninety seconds before everything you built is gone."​I looked back at the paper. My bank account balance flashed in my mind—a pathetic three digits that wouldn't even cover the interest on my credit card debt. My reputation, the one I had bled for, was being torn apart

"You look like a thief who doesn't know what she’s trying to steal."​I froze, my hand hovering inside the open, glowing cavern of the Sub-Zero refrigerator. A cold draft washed over my bare ankles. I didn't need to turn around to know Damien was standing in the archway of the kitchen. His voice had that low, gravelly weight it always carried when he hadn't slept, a sound that used to feel intimate but now felt like a warning track.​I slowly stood up straight, a plastic container of leftover truffle fries from the restaurant delivery tucked under my arm. "I was looking for the milk."​"With a box of cold potatoes?"​"They were on the same shelf." I finally turned to face him, leaning my lower back against the marble counter.​Damien had changed out of his suit. He was wearing a pair of dark cotton trousers and a black crewneck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair was slightly messy, a rare departure from the sleek perfection he presented to the boardrooms. He lo

"You still unfasten your left earring first when you are trying to think."I stopped, my fingers freezing against the heavy platinum drop dangling from my left earlobe. The metal was cold against my skin, a sharp contrast to the suffocating warmth of the penthouse living room behind me. I didn't turn around. I didn't need to. The low, quiet vibration of Damien’s voice was already sliding across the dark concrete of the terrace, cutting through the damp midnight air.I squeezed the earring between my thumb and forefinger, finally pulling the post free. "It is a heavy earring, Damien. My ear was hurting.""You did it in the car on the way back from the gallery three years ago," he said, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he moved closer. "You did it during the negotiation with the Tokyo firm. Left one first. Always."I dropped the piece of jewelry into my small silver clutch, my chest tightening. I had stepped out onto the balcony because the penthouse felt too enclosed, too packed wi

​"If you read this exactly as it's written, Damien, the press will look at you like an executioner, not a CEO."​I kept my eyes on the glowing monitor, my posture rigid. "The language is precise, Ellie. It outlines the restructuring timeline without emotional padding."​"It outlines a massacre." She leaned over my shoulder, invading the narrow space beside me Her fingers tapped a restless rhythm against the mahogany desk. "You are cutting four hundred manufacturing jobs before the ink is even dry on the Sterling acquisition. You can't just label it a 'baseline rationalization of duplicate human assets.'"​"That is the standard legal terminology."​"That is the terminology of a man who doesn't care that people have mortgages." Her voice dropped into that quiet, stubbornly fierce register that always bypassed my defensive perimeter with terrifying ease. She stopped tapping, her palm flat against the wood. "Give me the keyboard."​I hesitated. My hand froze over the trackpad as the instin