All Chapters of Married My Ex's Billionaire Uncle Accidentally : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

. Damian Pov The wail of police sirens cut through the night as police officers' boots stomped across the threshold. Yellow crime scene tape snapped taut, cordoning off the spot where Richard and the Ashford executive had dropped dead. I walked out of the private room and through the casino’s heavy double doors. The crisp night air struck my face like a cold palm as I dragged my hands through my hair, my fingers lingering at the back of my neck. I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Nothing. Nathan still hadn't called or sent a message telling me whether he had found a clue or traced anything connected to what had happened earlier. The only clue I had was “Ba.” Those were the Ashford executive's last words before the gunshots. What was I supposed to do with half a word? I barely knew whether it was the name of a person, a location, a company, or something else entirely. I stared at the screen for another second before locking it. No doubt Richard had been work

Ariana Pov I shifted beneath the covers, pulling my pillow closer and burying my face into the cool cotton. Morning light slipped through the blinds, making me squint as I slowly lifted my head. I blinked at the ceiling, still groggy, before swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. As I lowered my foot to the floor, a small sting shot through my ankle. I winced and glanced down at the white bandage covering the cut. I lightly touched its edge, and for a split second, the image of Damian kneeling on the floor flashed through my mind. I quickly pulled my hand away. Shaking the thought from my head, I headed straight to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, rinsed my mouth, then splashed water over my face. I stared at my reflection for a moment. “Whatever,” I muttered, grabbing the damp towel and wiping my face before dropping it back in place. I stepped out of the bathroom and headed downstairs for breakfast, taking the steps carefully. The house was unusually quiet. None of the ma

Damian Pov "Sir! Someone is tracing the recovery logs for Ariana's deleted design files!" My lead security engineer stood beside my desk, his attention fixed on the laptop between us. A stream of security events moved across the screen as he monitored the incoming activity. "Origin?" I demanded. "Masked." He studied the logs. "They're probing the secondary network defenses and following the recovery trail. They're trying to identify whoever restored Ariana's deleted files." "Do not lock down the node." "Sir? If they keep going, they'll reach the master clearance logs." "I said leave it open." He hesitated. "Reroute the trace to a controlled mirror. Give them a path that looks legitimate while you capture their identifying information. I want to know which account or device initiated the search." "Understood, Mr. Cole." He returned his attention to the screen. A few seconds later, the activity shifted. The trace continued moving, but now it was running through the controlled path

Ariana Pov The next morning, I slipped out of the oversized sweater, folded it neatly, and carried it down the hallway toward Damian’s room. I knocked firmly and waited. Nothing. I knocked again, louder this time, but there was still no response. After a moment of hesitation, I reached for the handle and pushed the door open a few inches. “Damian?” Silence greeted me. I stepped inside and glanced around. His bedroom was nothing like mine. Everything was sleek and immaculate, from the dark furniture to the carefully arranged artwork on the walls. My gaze wandered across the room until it settled on a series of striking portraits and architectural drawings. Curiosity pulled me closer, and I moved toward them, studying the details in each frame. My fingertips brushed lightly over one of the textured frames. “Admiring the work?” The deep voice behind me made my shoulders jerk. I spun around so quickly that my hair swung across my face, and my breath caught. Damian stood at the

Damian Pov The phone buzzed against the bed before I had my second arm through my sleeve. I grabbed it and checked the screen. A notification from Nathan: Teterboro Airport. Hangar 4. A pin dropped beneath the text. My jaw tightened. After the casino, I wasn't walking into this blind. I opened the bedside drawer, pulled out my handgun, and checked the chamber once. I slid it into my belt holster and let my shirt fall over it, grabbing my keys off the table before heading out. The drive passed in silence, my knuckles white against the wheel at every red light. By the time the dark skyline of the airport came into view, scattered hangar lights flickering along the far runway, my hands were steady again. I pulled up near the access road. Hangar 4 was set apart from the rest, its bay doors half open, light spilling onto the tarmac. Two men stood near the entrance, still and deliberate, the kind of stillness that only came from training. Bastian hadn't come alone. A private plane sat wa