All Chapters of Married To My Ex's Ruthless Father: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Isabella’s PovI sat at the small desk we had set up in the study, staring at my laptop screen for the first time in months with something other than baby monitors and feeding schedules on my mind. Grace was napping peacefully upstairs, and for the first time since she was born, I finally had a few uninterrupted hours to myself.Damien walked in quietly, carrying two cups of coffee, and set one down beside me. “How’s it feel?” he asked. “Being back at this?”“Strange,” I admitted, glancing at the stack of proposals waiting in my inbox. “Good, but strange. I feel like I’ve forgotten how to think about anything other than diapers and nap schedules.”“You haven’t forgotten anything,” Damien said, sitting on the edge of the desk. “You’re just out of practice. Ease into it. Nobody’s expecting you to jump back in at full speed.”“I don’t even know where to start,” I said, scrolling through the overwhelming number of unread emails and reports.“Start small,” Damien said. “Pick one thing. Rev

Isabella’s PovThe house was too quiet when I came down the stairs, and for a moment I thought something was wrong, because Damien’s mansion was never quiet like this, not with staff moving through the halls and phones buzzing on every counter and the constant hum of business that never seemed to stop even after the sun went down. But tonight there was nothing, no phones, no staff, no sound at all except the soft click of my heels against the marble floor, and when I reached the bottom step and looked toward the dining room, I understood why, because the room had been transformed into something I barely recognized, with candles lining the long table instead of the usual crystal centerpieces, and the overhead lights dimmed so low that the whole space glowed gold instead of white.Damien was standing near the window with his back to me, his hands in his pockets, looking out at the garden the way he always did when something was weighing on his mind, and when he heard me approach he tur

Damien’s PovIsabella stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the front of her dress for what felt like the tenth time, and I could tell she was more nervous than she wanted to admit.“You look beautiful,” I said, walking up behind her.“I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do this,” she admitted, adjusting an earring slightly. “It’s been months since we’ve been to anything like this.”“You’ll be fine,” I said. “You’ve handled far more difficult rooms than a gala.”“Those rooms didn’t have this many people judging every word I say,” she said.“They’re not judging you,” I said, though I understood her nerves. “They’re going to be impressed by you, the same way everyone at the office has been lately.”She turned to face me, studying my expression carefully. “You really believe that?”“I know it,” I said firmly. “Isabella, you’ve spent months proving exactly how sharp you are. Tonight isn’t any different.”We arrived at the gala a short while later, the ballroom already filled with fam

Isabella’s PovThe notification popped up on my phone while I was reviewing shipment reports at my desk, and at first, I didn’t think much of it. But when I opened the article, my stomach dropped completely.“Isabella: The Woman Who Planned It All Along?” the headline read, accompanied by a photo of me from the gala last month.I read through the article twice, my hands growing colder with each paragraph. It claimed I had deliberately manipulated Damien into transferring company shares into Grace’s name, positioning myself to control significant portions of Blackwood Holdings through our daughter. There was no actual evidence anywhere in the piece, just carefully worded speculation designed to sound plausible.“Damien,” I called out, my voice tighter than I intended.He appeared in the doorway within seconds, immediately noticing my expression. “What’s wrong?”I handed him my phone silently, watching his jaw tighten as he read through the article himself.“This is completely fabricate

Damien’s PovGabriel walked into my office uninvited, which had become something of a habit lately, and dropped a folder onto my desk without waiting for permission to speak.“You’re taking tomorrow off,” he said simply.“I have three meetings scheduled,” I said, not even looking up from my screen.“I already canceled them,” Gabriel said. “You’ve had a security team stationed at your house for two weeks straight, Isabella’s been living in fear, and you haven’t taken a single day off since that note showed up. You need this, Damien. All of you do.”“There’s still an investigation ongoing,” I said. “I can’t just disappear for a day.”“You’re not disappearing,” Gabriel said. “You’re taking your wife and daughter somewhere quiet for twenty-four hours. Security will still be watching the estate. I’ll handle anything urgent that comes up here.”I sat back in my chair, considering his words longer than I expected to. Isabella had seemed increasingly exhausted lately, the constant tension of