All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Blood Debt: Ruined by My Enemy: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Elowen's POVHe didn't answer me.He didn't blink, didn't shift, didn't offer so much as an apology. He just held my eyes, that faint, knowing curve still sitting at the corner of his mouth, like my question had been something entertaining tossed his way rather than an accusation.Then, without any particular hurry, he turned back toward the stage.The auctioneer moved on to the next lot, some maritime clock nobody in our row seemed to care about. The man beside me crossed his ankle over his knee, rested his arm along the divider between us, and didn't raise a hand again for the rest of the night. Not for the clock. Not for the harbor sketches after it, or the jeweled snuffbox that pulled four phone bidders into a shouting match through their clerks.For the better part of an hour he just sat there, close enough that our coats brushed, breathing easily, smelling faintly of something warm and expensive, like he'd simply wandered in to rest his legs in a nicer chair than the one he owne

Elowen's POV Sunday morning began without any of the usual alarms. The light in the bedroom was pale and thin, filtered through the winter mist that always seemed to sit over the river until noon. On the nightstand, my water glass caught the sun, throwing a small, sharp prism across the dark wood. Beside me, the sheets were cool and empty, but Killian hadn't driven out to New Jersey this time. Through the open dressing room door I could hear the quiet rustle of the Sunday papers turning, followed by the soft clink of a cup meeting its saucer. I stayed under the covers a few minutes longer than I needed to, just letting the quiet sit there. After months of waking up with my pulse already a step ahead of whatever crisis the day had planned, an empty morning felt almost strange, like a contract nobody had thought to find the loophole in yet. When I finally got up, I

Elowen's POV Monday morning arrived with a low, driving rain that turned the skyline into a smear of cold gray beyond the penthouse glass. I was up by six, moving through the motions of getting dressed with the rigid discipline I reached for whenever I needed to put a weekend behind me. Hair pinned tight. A slate gray suit that felt more like armor than wool. The heavy wedding band slid onto my hand, cold against my skin. By the time I walked into the main room, the apartment was already awake, smelling of coffee and rain, but Killian wasn't in the breakfast nook. I walked down the hall toward his study, carrying the shipping summary he'd asked for the night before. The heavy doors stood half open. The room was empty, the desk lamp casting a warm circle of light across the leather blotter. I stepped inside, set the folder down on the edge of his desk, and turned

Elowen's POV The cab ride back to Midtown felt like crossing a border between two entirely different countries. Downtown, the streets were narrow and uneven, the buildings weathered by a century of rain. Uptown, the world sharpened back into glass, steel, and right angles. By the time the cab pulled to the curb outside the tower, the strange, buzzing warmth I'd carried out of Diego's workshop had settled into something quieter, but it hadn't disappeared. I stepped into the private elevator and slid my hand into my coat pocket. My fingers brushed the cold, heavy brass of the key Evelyn had given me. I didn't take it out. I just kept my hand wrapped around it as the floor numbers climbed, letting its weight anchor me before the doors opened onto the ninetieth floor. The penthouse was quiet, the evening city spread out past the glass like a handful of crushed diamon

Elowen's POV I spent the rest of Wednesday morning staring at my computer screen, watching shipping routes update in real time without processing a single number. Vivian St. Claire. Her name felt loud in the quiet of my office, a ghost suddenly taking up all the air in the room. I wanted to open the company database and type in Meridian Logistics Group, pull up every record that old shell company had ever filed. I kept my hands flat on the edge of my desk and didn't touch the keyboard. Killian's people logged every search made on this floor. If I started digging into a dead company tied to my father, it would land on his desk before I even finished reading the first result. He'd told me himself once, months ago, that he didn't hire careless people. If he already knew about my mother's signature, searching for it myself would only tell him I was finally catching u