Lahat ng Kabanata ng The CEO'S Vengeful marriage: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The rain hadn’t stopped. It poured down on the city like the sky was trying to wash away my sins. But some stains don’t come out with water. Some stains are permanent.I stood in front of the mirror in our tiny bathroom, staring at my reflection. My eyes were red. Puffy. I looked like I’d been crying for hours. Which I had. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would wake me up. Hoping this was all a nightmare. Hoping I would open my eyes and be back in my old bed, safe and free.But when I opened my eyes, the same cracked tile stared back at me. The same peeling paint. The same poverty.It wasn’t a dream. I was married to Damian Thorne.My phone buzzed on the counter. I jumped, my heart skipping a beat. Was it him? Had he changed his mind? Did he want to call off the deal?I picked it up. It was my mother.*“Where are you? The hospital called. They said the bill is paid. Who paid it, Elara? Did you sell something? Tell me!”*I stared at the screen. Her desperation was palpable,

The music stopped. The lights dimmed. But Damian’s words echoed in my head, louder than any orchestra.“I need to make sure yours breaks exactly the same way.”He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t wait for me to process the cruelty of his confession. He simply let go of my waist, stepped back, and offered me his arm like a gentleman. His face was a mask of polite indifference, as if he hadn’t just confessed to emotional torture.“Shall we go?” he asked, his voice smooth and cold. “The party is winding down.”I wanted to scream. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to run out of the ballroom and never look back. But I couldn’t. My father’s life depended on my silence. My dignity depended on my performance.So I smiled. A fake, brittle smile that felt like it might crack my face.“Lead the way, husband,” I said.The ride home was silent. Suffocatingly silent.Damian sat on one side of the limousine, scrolling through his phone. I sat on the other, staring out the window at the blurred cit

The files were everywhere. Papers about my father's old case, spread across the couch like a storm had hit it.I didn't remember falling asleep. One second I was reading an old news article about Thorne Industries. The next, everything went dark.I didn't hear him come in.Damian stood in the doorway of the living room, still in his coat, rain dripping from his hair. He didn't move for a long moment. He just looked at me.I was curled up on the couch, my cheek pressed against a throw pillow. My shoes were still on. My laptop had died in my lap.He walked closer. Quiet steps. Careful steps.He crouched down and picked up the papers scattered near my feet. One page had my father's name circled in red pen. Another had a date underlined three times.His jaw went tight.He already knew what these papers meant. He had known for months. But seeing my fingerprints all over his own secret hit him somewhere he didn't expect.He set the papers on the coffee table in a neat stack. Then he walked

Damian's voice was low. Careful. His eyes moved to my shoulder, to the edge of white paper peeking out from behind me.My heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn't tell him. Not yet. Not until I understood who had left that photo in my bag, and why Julian had looked at my stomach like he already knew a secret I hadn't told a single soul."It's nothing," I said. "Just an old letter from my mother. It upset me. I didn't want you to see me crying over her again."His eyes stayed on me a moment too long. He didn't believe me. But he let it go, the way he always did when the truth got too close to something he wasn't ready to touch either."Get some sleep," he said quietly, and walked out.I sat on the edge of the bed once he was gone, the envelope crushed in my fist, and I thought about the last time I had lied to him this well.It had only been three weeks. It felt like a lifetime.---**Three Weeks Earlier**The dress was red. I hated red. It made me look like exactly what I was that ni

I sat on the edge of the bathtub for a long time after the test told me the truth, turning the same question over and over in my head.Should I tell him.I ran through it a dozen different ways. I imagined walking into his study and setting the test on his desk without a word. I imagined saying it plainly, "I'm pregnant," and watching his face for whatever came next, cruelty or panic or something worse, indifference. I imagined every version of that conversation, and every single one of them ended with me too afraid to knock on his door.He was still a stranger in a lot of ways. A stranger who had married me to punish me, who had a secret investigation running behind my back, who had an uncle capable of leaving threats in my luggage. I didn't know yet if telling him would make me safer or make me a bigger target.So I decided to wait. One more day. Just until I understood what Julian knew, and how he knew it, and whether the man I was carrying this child for was protecting me or using