All Chapters of Stripper Heiress: Revenge Marriage to the Devil Billionaire: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

"You think you hold all the leverage, Cecelia," Christopher says, dropping a small black encrypted flash drive onto the glass dining table between us.I sit across from him in my penthouse, my coffee untouched, my eyes pinned to the sleek piece of plastic resting on the polished surface."I don't think I hold leverage, Christopher," I say, my voice flat and icy. "I know I do. I hold the birth switch documents, the poison reports, and the wire transfers."Christopher doesn't flinch. He reaches forward with one long finger and pushes the black drive two inches closer to my hand."Plug it in," he says, his dark gaze locked onto my face, devoid of warmth or hesitation. "Go on. Look at what my private security team pulled from the club's off-site archive last night."My chest tightens, a sudden, sharp knot forming in my stomach. I pull my laptop across the glass, slot the black drive into the side port, and open the encrypted folder.The screen flashes twice before a high-definition video

Get her in the van!" a harsh, raspy voice shouts before a thick black cloth smothers my face.I fight back instantly, digging my nails into a thick leather sleeve in the cold underground garage of Poseidon headquarters.A sharp, agonizing sting pierces the right side of my neck as a long needle slides deep beneath my skin."Hold her down, Obidan!" Jessica screams from the driver's side door, her sharp voice echoing against the concrete walls. "Don't let her touch the alarm!"My legs turn to dead weight in two seconds flat. The world spins violently out of focus, the harsh overhead fluorescent lights blurring into long, blinding streaks of white. I try to scream, but my tongue feels like thick lead in my mouth. Darkness slams over my eyes like a heavy iron door.When my eyes force open, my head feels like it's being split apart by an axe.I am tied securely to a rusted metal chair in the center of a wide, rotting warehouse on the damp edge of the city. My wrists are bound raw with roug

"Hand me the Q3 financial breakdown," I say to the senior auditor, keeping my voice steady, smooth, and cold."Right here, Miss Cecelia," the auditor replies, sliding the thick binder across the glass conference table.I take the documents, my fingers gripping the paper firmly while my stomach turns in a sudden, violent twist of morning nausea.I press my left hand flat against my belly under the table, feeling the secret heartbeat pulsing beneath my ribs. For three full days, I have moved through executive board meetings, press briefings, and legal strategy sessions with absolute control. Nobody notices the slight pale tint on my face or the way I hold my breath whenever coffee is poured nearby."The Poseidon stock has recovered twelve percent since Obidan's sudden disappearance," the chief financial officer reports, adjusting his rimless glasses. "The board is ready to ratify the merger.""We hold off on the merger until Christopher signed the asset separation clause," I state flatl

"Turn on the microphones right now," I order the auditorium technician, stepping past the frantic security guards at the side entrance."Miss Cecelia, you can't go out there without corporate approval!" the Poseidon head of security yells, reaching for my arm."Touch me and I'll have you fired before I reach the podium," I say, my voice cold, sharp, and deadly.I step onto the massive stage of the Poseidon international media hall alone. I wear a tailored black suit, no jewelry, no speech notes, and no handlers behind me.Over three hundred journalists, television crews, and camera operators gasp in unison, their lenses instantly swinging toward the center aisle as bright flashes explode across the dim room like gunfire."Quiet down," I say directly into the central microphone, my voice echoing loudly through the acoustic speakers.The chaotic shouting of the press corps instantly dies down into a tense, suffocating quiet."You have spent forty-eight hours calling me a gold-digger, a

"He won't last until dawn, Miss Cecelia," the private doctor's voice crackles through my phone in the quiet black of 3:00 AM."Keep him conscious," I command, my hands shaking violently as I grab my coat from the leather chair. "I am ten minutes away."I drive through the empty city streets alone, my pulse hammering against my ribs like a trapped wild animal.Theophilus's private estate sits behind heavy iron gates on the north cliff, isolated from the corporate towers of Poseidon and the dark shadow of the Lambert mansion. The old man who served two generations of Lamberts—the man who held every secret, every wire transfer, and every forged document—is finally running out of breath.I push open the heavy front door, stepping past the silent medical staff directly into his private bedchamber.The air in the room is thick and suffocating, smelling of harsh antiseptic, stale oxygen, and old paper. Theophilus lies propped up against three white pillows, his face hollow, his skin pale as