บททั้งหมดของ Betrayed By My Husband, I Married His Billionaire Uncle: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The ride back to the Upper East Side penthouse felt like a long, suffocating funeral march. No one had spoken a single word in the car. The silence inside the vehicle pressed against their chests, heavy and thick, making it hard to draw a full breath. Now, inside the walls of their multimillion-dollar home, that same silence lingered like a disease.High above the busy streets of New York, the afternoon sun cast long, hard shadows across the living room floor. The space was a showcase of extreme wealth. White leather sofas, imported marble tables, and walls lined with expensive art surrounded them. Yet, none of it offered any comfort. The empire they thought they owned had just turned to dust in a span of twenty minutes.Karla's mother, Isabella, walked toward the center of the room like a ghost. She did not bother to take off her designer coat or set down her purse. Her knees gave out, and she sank onto the edge of the nearest couch. Her eyes locked onto a blank space on the opposite

AUTHOR'S POVThe financial world loves a scandal, but the media thrives on a bloodbath.Forty-eight hours after the hostile takeover at Sterling Corporation, a leaked social media post ignited the internet. An anonymous insider posted a lengthy thread detailing the explosive boardroom meeting. The post described Merrick’s humiliation, Anika’s miraculous return from the dead, and the brutal shift of power. Within hours, the hashtag #SterlingTakeover trended globally.The narrative spun wildly out of control. Some painted Anika as a brilliant mastermind who conquered her abusers. Others labeled her a vindictive opportunist who manipulated a powerful uncle to destroy her husband.Seeking to control the damage, Karla’s public relations team booked her an exclusive interview on *Morning Truth*, one of the nation’s top syndicated talk shows.The studio lights were blindingly bright. The host, a seasoned journalist named Diane, sat across from Karla on comfortable white armchairs.Karla dres

ANIKAHe stepped closer, invading my personal space. Raising his hands, he gripped my waist. His large fingers pressed firmly against my ribs, anchoring me in place. The scent of cedar and expensive whiskey wrapped around me, intoxicating and heavy. A sudden rush of heat flared in my chest, pooling low in my stomach."Blind anger is dangerous, little one," Icelyn murmured, leaning down until his lips hovered just inches from my ear. "It makes you reckless. Reckless people make mistakes, and mistakes will get you killed in this world."My breath hitched. The stern authority in his voice mixed with the firm, possessive grip of his hands sent a chaotic thrill through my veins. I wanted to argue, to push him away, but my body betrayed me. I leaned into his touch, my hands resting lightly against his solid chest."I handled it," I whispered, my voice losing its defensive edge.Icelyn’s thumb brushed a slow, deliberate circle against my hip bone. The gesture was meant to ground me, but it o

ICELYNI sat down, unfolding the linen napkin and placing it over my lap. The silence in the room was thick enough to choke on. Merrick stared at his empty water glass. Karla kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, her knuckles white.Servants entered the room through a side door, carrying silver platters. They served roasted lamb, seasoned asparagus, and small potatoes roasted in garlic and butter. Another servant poured a deep red wine into my crystal glass."The food looks exceptional," I offered, cutting a small piece of the lamb. "Your chef has always had a brilliant touch with red meat. The sear is perfect."Madison picked up her fork, her smile straining at the edges. "Yes. We imported the cuts directly from Italy. I remember you always appreciated a good vintage wine with your meals. I hope the Bordeaux is to your liking.""It is," I agreed, taking a slow sip. The liquid burned pleasantly down my throat. "Very smooth."For ten minutes, the only sounds in the room were the cl

AUTHOR'S POVMerrick gripped the leather steering wheel until his knuckles turned a pale, sickly shade of white. Ahead of him, the sprawling limestone mansion belonging to Declan O'Rourke rose against the clear New York sky. ItTo the left of the main house, the manicured green slopes of a private eighteen-hole golf course stretched toward a line of tall pine trees. Several exotic vehicles lined the circular courtyard near a stone water fountain. A sleek red Ferrari, a silver McLaren, and a custom vintage Aston Martin sat idle, gleaming under the bright afternoon sun. The display of extreme wealth usually made Merrick feel right at home. Today, it only reminded him of everything he was about to lose.Merrick put the car in park and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. His chest felt tight, and every breath he took felt like drawing air through a narrow straw. Just days ago, he was the untouchable chief executive of a corporate empire. Now, he was a hostage in his own offic