Todos los capítulos de ​Accidentally Married to the Ghost Billionaire : Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

​The rain was relentless, pounding against the floor-to-ceiling glass of the Miller Estate, but it was nowhere near as cold as the betrayal boiling in Vivian Miller’s veins. ​She stood frozen at the doorway of the master bedroom, her knuckles white as she gripped her designer leather purse. Her heart hammered against her ribs, echoing the storm outside. ​In her bed—the very bed her late father had bought for her—was Julian Sterling, her fiancé of three years. And draped over him like a cheap silk sheet was Eleanor Vance, her forty-year-old stepmother. ​"Julian?" Vivian’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the heavy air of the room like a razor blade. ​Julian didn't even flinch. He slowly sat up, completely unbothered, running a hand through his tousled hair. Eleanor merely chuckled, pouring herself a glass of vintage champagne from the nightstand before wrapping a satin robe around her shoulders. ​"You're home early, Vivian," Eleanor purred, taking a slow sip. "I thou

The high-rise office of the CEO at Miller Group overlooked the glittering harbor, but inside, the atmosphere was tight with anticipation."Stand still," Vivian commanded softly, stepping closer to Oliver.She was holding a dark navy tie, her fingers brushing against the warm skin of his collarbone. Her personal stylist had delivered three racks of custom-tailored suits an hour ago. Vivian had expected an awkward transformation, but as Oliver stepped out of the fitting room, her breath had caught in her throat.The custom charcoal suit fit his broad shoulders and lean waist so perfectly it looked sculpted. Gone was the broke athlete in oversized hoodies; in his place stood a man whose sheer physical presence dominated the room. Yet, true to his disguise, Oliver kept his posture relaxed, a soft, slightly hesitant smile on his face."I'm not used to silk, Vivian," Oliver murmured, looking down at her as she expertly tied his Windsor knot. His voice was low, vibrating right against her ch

​The grand ballroom of the Grand Regency Hotel was a sea of crystal chandeliers, champagne flutes, and elite high society. Camera flashes reflected off the polished marble floors as the city's most powerful shipping magnates gathered for the Annual Maritime Gala. ​Standing in the penthouse foyer just thirty minutes earlier, Vivian had felt her heart skip a beat when Oliver stepped into the living room. ​He was wearing a charcoal double-breasted tuxedo designed by Milan’s top tailor. The sharp cut emphasized his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and towering stature. His dark hair was styled back, revealing a jawline so sharp it looked sculpted by fine art. He looked less like a temporary substitute husband and more like a king returning to his throne. Yet, the moment his eyes met hers, his sharp gaze melted into that same gentle, devoted smile. ​"Do I pass inspection, CEO Miller?" he had asked playfully, adjusting his cufflinks. ​Vivian had cleared her throat, forcing her pulse to ca

​The early morning fog still hovered over the harbor when two federal agents stepped into the executive suite of Miller Group. ​Vivian was sitting at her mahogany desk, reviewing financial ledgers, when her secretary ushered them in. Her heart instantly hammered against her ribs. Any sudden visit from federal authorities usually meant disaster for a logistics company. ​"Miss Miller," Agent Cross began, adjusting his dark trench coat. "We are here regarding Terminal 4. Late last night, an armed crew breached Warehouse 4 with arson equipment, intending to ignite the Northern Star’s high-value cargo bay." ​Vivian’s face drained of color. "Arson? Was the cargo damaged? Fifty million dollars of electronics—" ​"Everything is completely intact, Miss Miller," Agent Cross interrupted, his tone remarkably calm. "Before the intruders could spill a single drop of accelerant, our local task force received an encrypted, anonymous tip detailing their exact entry point, timing, and schematics. We

​The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the penthouse kitchen, but it did nothing to soothe the cold knot tightening in Vivian’s stomach.​She sat at the marble island, her hands wrapped around a warm mug. Every few seconds, her eyes drifted toward Oliver, who was calmly wiping down the counter. He looked entirely harmless—dressed in a comfortable gray sweater, offering her a soft, affectionate smile whenever their eyes met.​Yet, every time she looked at him, the echo of his voice from the balcony last night rang in her ears.​“The target has reached the end of his usefulness... Finish him completely.”​"You're very quiet this morning," Oliver observed softly, setting a plate in front of her. "Did you sleep well?"​"I slept... fine," Vivian replied, forcing a neutral tone. She carefully watched his hands—broad, calloused, and perfectly steady. There was no trace of nervousness in him. "Just thinking about the company."​"Don't work yourself too hard, Chairwoman," Oliver murmured,