Todos los capítulos de Married To My Ex's Ruthless Father: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

Damien’s POV I stood at the entrance to the suite, my heart pounding with a mix of nerves and pure anticipation. This was the same hotel where everything had begun years ago—the same grand lobby with its marble floors gleaming under crystal chandeliers, the same soft glow of evening lights filtering through tall windows. But tonight, there was no shadow of doubt hanging over, no contract, no loneliness. Just us, Damien and Isabella, celebrating the beautiful life we had fought for and built together.I had arranged every detail to mirror that first night, but transformed. The suite overlooked the city skyline, just as before. Candles flickered on the table set for two, their flames dancing across fine china and a bottle of her favorite vintage wine. Soft music played in the background, the same melody that had filled the air back then. But this time, the air hummed with promise instead of pain.Isabella stepped into the room behind me, her eyes widening as she took it all in. She wor

Isabella’s Pov I woke up the next morning trying to convince myself that the uneasy feeling still lingering in my chest was nothing more than leftover exhaustion. The security team had checked every camera and every sensor across the property, and nothing appeared out of place. Probably just a technical glitch, they said. Nothing to worry about. I wanted to believe that completely, so I forced myself to smile as I walked downstairs, determined not to let fear creep back into a life Damien and I had worked so hard to protect. “Morning,” Damien said, already in the kitchen, our daughter settled in her high chair while Damien attempted to spoon oatmeal into her mouth with limited success. “Morning,” I said, kissing the top of our daughter’s head before sitting down beside them. “How’s breakfast going?” “Terribly,” Damien admitted, glancing down at his shirt, which now bore several small orange smears. “She seems to think my shirt is also an acceptable place for oatmeal.” “She’

Isabella’s PovI had noticed Damien seemed to disappear somewhere in his own thoughts even when he was sitting right beside me. He would smile, laugh at the right moments, respond when I spoke to him, but something distant lingered behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before.I finally decided I couldn’t ignore it any longer.“Damien,” I said that evening, once Grace had been settled into her crib and the house had grown quiet around us. “We need to talk.”He looked up from the papers spread across his desk, his expression immediately guarded. “About what?”“About whatever’s been weighing on you for the past week,” I said, sitting down across from him. “You’ve been distant, distracted. I know something’s wrong, and I need you to stop trying to protect me from it.”Damien set down his pen, studying me carefully for a long moment. “I didn’t want to frighten you further,” he admitted finally. “You’ve already been through so much.”“Hiding things from me frightens me more,” I said hones

Isabella’s PovI had spent the entire afternoon organizing old boxes stored away in the study, mostly documents neither of us had looked at in years, forgotten paperwork from before Grace, before everything our marriage had become. Somewhere near the bottom of the last box, my hands paused over a familiar folder, one I hadn’t seen in what felt like an entirely different lifetime.The marriage contract.I sat back slowly, staring at the folder for a long moment before finally opening it, my heart beating strangely as I began reading through the pages inside. Every clause remained exactly as cold and calculated as I remembered, terms and conditions outlining precisely what our marriage had originally been designed to accomplish. Duration requirements. Financial arrangements. Specific provisions regarding public appearances and business obligations.Nothing about love. Nothing about family. Nothing resembling anything close to what our marriage had actually become.I read through it slow

Isabella’s PovFor the first time in what felt like an entire year, life finally began settling into something resembling peace. Weeks had passed without a single incident, no threatening notes, no strange breaches in our security system, no anonymous photographs waiting on desks. I found myself sleeping through entire nights again, waking up without that familiar knot of dread twisting in my stomach.“You seem lighter lately,” Damien said one evening, watching me hum quietly to myself while preparing dinner.“I feel lighter,” I admitted. “I think maybe, finally, the worst is behind us.”“I hope you’re right,” Damien said, though I could hear the cautious optimism in his voice, the same hesitant hope I felt myself.That Saturday afternoon, while Grace napped peacefully upstairs, I settled into the study with my laptop, catching up on routine financial reports from several smaller subsidiaries under Blackwood Holdings. It wasn’t particularly exciting work, mostly numbers requiring simp