Semua Bab Beg no more married to his enemy : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Chapter 22: Elena’s POV​The cold smell of the rain came in through the open front door as Damian walked inside.​He didn't rush. He closed his dark umbrella, gave it a firm shake over the rug, set it into the brass stand near the entrance, and walked straight across the polished floor toward me.​My heart was beating fast in my chest, but I refused to step back. I didn't reach for my handbag, and I didn't call out for the shop manager. I pulled my shoulders back, stood straight, and looked him directly in the eyes as he approached.​"You look nice, Elena," Damian said, stopping about three feet away from me. His voice had that quiet, arrogant tone he always used whenever he wanted to make me feel small or put me on the defensive. "Black suits you. Though I suppose you think you've won just because your lawyers dug up those old bank slips to clear your aunt out of the picture."​"Lydia's financial mess is her own problem, Damian," I said, keeping my voice level and completely flat. "A

Chapter 24: Elena’s POV​The harsh white fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway burned my eyes.​I sat on a cold plastic chair outside the trauma room, my hands resting in my lap. Carter’s blood was dried dark against my skin and along the cuffs of my black blazer. Every time I looked down at my hands, my stomach turned into a tight, sickening knot.​The heavy double doors of the treatment room pushed open, and the ER doctor walked out, pulling off his surgical gloves.​I stood up immediately. "How is he?"​"He has a severe concussion and three cracked ribs from the impact," the doctor said, his tone professional and direct. "We stitched the laceration on his temple. He was unconscious for a few minutes, but his brain scans came back clear. No internal bleeding. We’re keeping him under observation for the night, but he is awake."​A long, trembling breath of relief left my lungs. "Can I see him?"​"Give us ten minutes to move him to a private room on the fourth floor," the doctor

Chapter 26: Damian’s POV​The heavy oak door of the penthouse slammed shut, echoing through the empty foyer.​I leaned against the wood for a second, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Every single muscle in my torso burned. Three hours in a precinct holding cell had done nothing to dull the constant, dull throbbing in my ribs where Carter Vance’s fists had landed. The white bandage across my knuckles was stained with dried blood, and my left eye was swollen half-shut.​It had taken fifty thousand dollars, three phone calls to senior partners at my firm, and every bit of political leverage I had left to pull myself out on bail before the morning press got hold of the mugshot.​"Damian?"​Chloe’s voice came from the living room. The sound of her high heels tapped quickly against the marble floor as she walked around the corner. She stopped dead in her tracks the moment she saw me standing near the entrance, her eyes widening in horror as she looked at my face.​"Oh my God," Chloe

Chapter 28: Elena’s POV​The clock on the wall of Carter’s study ticked with a heavy, unbearable rhythm.​Six hours had passed since the ransom call, and every minute felt like a blade scraping against my nerves. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out into the dark estate grounds, my hands wrapped so tightly around a mug of cold tea that my knuckles were white.​Carter sat at his desk, his laptop open, a stack of legal papers and corporate property titles spread out in front of him. His face was pale, the dark circles under his eyes worsening, and the bandage on his temple was slightly frayed at the edge. Every time he shifted in his leather chair, a quiet grunt of pain escaped his lips from his cracked ribs, but he refused to slow down.​"Elena," Carter said, his voice quiet, raspy, and tired. "Come look at this."​I walked over to the desk, setting the untouched mug down.​"I spent the last three hours pulling up every corporate entity, real estate holding, and private

Chapter 30: Elena’s POV​The SUV stopped right in front of Warehouse 9. Rain poured down hard against the metal walls of the abandoned building, and the wind blew loudly off the water at the docks.​"Stay behind me," Carter said. His voice was flat and direct as he opened his car door. He winced, holding his right side where his ribs were wrapped, but he forced himself to stand up straight.​"I'm coming with you," I said, grabbing the heavy leather bag with the hard drives inside.​We walked quickly through the heavy rain toward the entrance. Carter used his shoulder to push the metal sliding door open.​Inside, the warehouse smelled like damp concrete and old oil. Yellow bulbs hung from the ceiling on thick black wires, giving off weak light. Near the back wall, sitting in a wooden chair, was my grandmother. Her head hung down toward her chest, her eyes were closed, and her thin body was shaking under her coat.​Two men in dark jackets stood right beside her, both wearing cheap surgi