All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S STAND-IN BRIDE: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Aria’s POV Three days passed before anyone in the house used the word “over” out loud, and even then, it came with a question mark hanging off the end of it, like nobody quite trusted the word to hold its shape. Helena’s lawyer called on the second day. Romanov took it in the study with the door half open, and I stood close enough to catch pieces of it, enough to understand that Helena had cooperated fully, that she’d waived several rights she didn’t have to waive, that she seemed determined to answer every question asked of her without conditions. “She’s not fighting any of it,” Romanov said afterward, setting his phone down carefully on the desk. “Full cooperation. Full disclosure.” “What does that mean for her?” I asked. “Reduced charges, probably,” he said. “Nothing that erases what she did. But something short of the maximum, if the prosecutors decide her cooperation is worth the trade.” I watched him carefully, trying to read whether that answer satisfied him or sat there

Aria’s POVThe storage facility sat on the edge of an industrial park two hours outside the city, rows of identical metal units stretching under a gray morning sky that matched exactly how I felt walking toward it. Dmitri had the paperwork ready before we even parked, a folder of authorizations he’d spent the better part of a week assembling.“Unit 4471,” he said, checking the number against the folder one final time. “Registered under a name connected to your mother’s original trust, just like I found in the records.”Romanov stood close beside me as the facility manager unlocked the unit, an older man who clearly had no idea what significance this particular door held for the three of us standing in front of it. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said, stepping back to give us space.The door rolled up slowly, revealing a space smaller than I’d expected, dust settled thick over everything inside. A single wooden crate sat in the center, undisturbed, exactly the size and shape I’d pictured

Aria’s POV Elena found me in the garden the following morning, an envelope clutched in one hand, her expression somewhere between excitement and disbelief. “I need you to read this,” she said, before I’d even finished setting down my coffee. I took the envelope, noting the formal letterhead immediately, a law firm I didn’t recognize based two cities away. “What is it?” “Read it,” Elena said again, settling onto the bench beside me, practically vibrating with an energy I hadn’t seen from her since before any of this began. I unfolded the letter carefully. It took me a moment to work through the formal legal language, but the substance of it became clear soon enough. A holding company connected to Elena’s family, dormant for years, had recently come under review following the Correction’s collapse. With certain debts settled and certain obligations cleared, the company’s original assets were now available for Elena to reclaim, should she choose to pursue it. “This is real?” I aske

Aria’s POV Romeo found me in the library the next morning, hovering near the doorway with an uncertainty that looked strange on him, someone who’d spent most of this investigation moving through danger with far more confidence than he showed standing there now. “Do you have a minute?” he asked. “Of course,” I said, setting aside the book I hadn’t really been reading. “Come in.” He settled into the chair across from me, hands clasped loosely between his knees, the posture of someone who’d rehearsed what he wanted to say and still wasn’t entirely sure how to begin. “I heard about Elena’s business,” he said. “The holding company, the buyout.” “Word travels fast around here,” I said. “She asked if I wanted to help her build it,” he said. “Security consulting, mostly. Vetting partners, watching for the kind of people who might try to take advantage of a company still finding its footing.” “That sounds like exactly the kind of thing you’d be good at,” I said. “That’s not actually w

Aria’s POV For the first time in longer than I could easily remember, nothing urgent waited for us the next morning. No lawyers requiring careful handling, no evidence requiring cataloging, no difficult conversations demanding courage that neither of us fully felt ready to offer. Just an ordinary Saturday, quiet and unhurried, stretching out ahead of us like something almost unfamiliar. Romanov found me on the terrace before breakfast, two cups of coffee balanced carefully in his hands. “You’re up early,” he said, settling into the chair beside mine. “I couldn’t sleep past six,” I admitted. “My body’s forgotten how to relax on schedule.” “Mine too,” he said, handing me one of the cups. “I kept waiting for my phone to ring with some new crisis. It didn’t.” “Strange feeling,” I said. “Strange good, or strange bad?” he asked. I considered that honestly, turning the question over against everything we’d survived these past months. “Strange good,” I said finally. “I think I just ne