Todos los capítulos de The Billionaire’s Dead Wife Returned: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Chapter 31SaraThe financial spreadsheets on my massive monitor screen blurred into a meaningless grid of numbers. I blinked hard, rubbing my temples as a headache pulsed right behind my eyes. I couldn't focus. For the past four hours, my mind had been trapped in a vicious loop, violently tearing between two terrifying unknowns: the nameless girl from the club who knew my darkest secret, and Damian.I will handle this. I’ll handle the girl, and I’ll handle the threat.His parting words from last night echoed through my head. He had looked so calm, so utterly lethal when he said them. What was he doing right now? Was he tracking her down? Was he paying her off?. The fact that he was staying framed for a murder he didn't commit just to protect me made a cold knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. I couldn't breathe.A sharp, demanding knock on my office door broke my trance."Enter," I called out, instantly pulling my cold, untouchable mask back over my features.The door swung open, and

Chapter Thirty threeSaraThe cab ride back to the house had been an exercise in sheer, suffocating paranoia. Every pair of headlights that appeared in the rearview mirror felt like a threat. Every time the driver braked, my heart leapt into my throat. Even now, as I stood in the quiet foyer of the house and locked the heavy front door behind me, the phantom weight of those watching eyes from the alleyway lingered on my skin.I leaned my back against the door, closing my eyes and letting out a long, ragged breath. My meeting with Adrian had left me feeling raw, untethered, and entirely exhausted. He had been so furious. Not because a blackmailer was hovering over my head, threatening my freedom, but because I had dared to confide in Damian. For three years, I had viewed Adrian as my absolute protector. But tonight, a tiny, toxic seed of doubt had been planted in my mind, and I hated myself for it.I opened my eyes, the dim, warm accent lights of the foyer casting long shadows across t

Chapter Thirty FiveSaraA blinding, white-hot ache throbbed behind my eyes, pulsing in agonizing harmony with the erratic, desperate hammering of my heart. Every time my pulse spiked, a fresh wave of agony washed over my brain, making the room tilt before I could even see it. I instinctively tried to raise my right hand to touch my throbbing temple—to wipe away the cold, clammy sweat slicking my forehead—but my limbs refused to obey.My eyes snapped open, blinking frantically against the harshness of reality. The familiar, concrete darkness of the underground parking garage was entirely gone. Instead, the grim, cavernous interior of an abandoned industrial warehouse stared back at me. I tried to shift my weight, but a sharp restriction pulled hard against my joints. Looking down, horror flooded my veins. I was sitting in a heavy, rusted metal chair, my wrists wrapped tightly behind my back in thick industrial zip-ties that bit cruelly into my skin, cutting off my circulation. My an

Chapter Thirty SevenThe world returned to me in agonizing, sterile fragments. First came the rhythmic, sharp beep of a heart monitor ticking away near my ear. Then, the overwhelming, chemical scent of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol, a smell that instantly made my stomach flip as memories of the warehouse and the sweet, suffocating ether flashed behind my eyelids.I groaned, a dry, raspy sound catching in my throat as I forced my heavy eyelids open. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead made my vision blur, but as the room slowly came into focus, the first thing I saw was him.Damian was sitting in a rigid plastic chair right beside my bed.He looked entirely wrecked. His charcoal sweater was damp and wrinkled, his dark hair was disheveled, and the knuckles of his right hand were split and swollen. He was leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. But the moment the sound of my groan broke the quiet of the private room, his head snapped up.The raw

Chapter Thirty NineSara"I'm fine, Damian. You can leave now," I said, my voice carrying a stubborn, raspy edge as I pulled the duvet higher up my chest. "I don't need a babysitter."Damian stared down at me from the edge of the mattress, his dark blue eyes narrowing with that familiar, unyielding stubbornness. He looked like he wanted to argue, to lock the door and anchor himself to the chair beside my bed for the rest of the night. But seeing the exhaustion weighing down my eyelids, he finally let out a low, defeated sigh."I'll be down the hall," he murmured, standing up to his full height. "The door stays cracked."He left, but he didn't exactly stay away. Every couple of hours, through the haze of my light, restless sleep, I would hear the faint, familiar friction of his boots against the hardwood. He would step silently into the room, adjusting the duvet when it slipped, checking my temperature with the back of his knuckles, or just standing in the amber glow of the nightstand