All Chapters of The Billionaire I Couldn't Resist: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

CHAPTER 31Damien’s POVI didn't leave the office that night.There was too much static in my head to even consider sleep. The quiet humming of the central air conditioning and the distant glitter of the city skyline through my floor-to-ceiling windows were the only things keeping me grounded.Warren's parting words kept repeating on a relentless loop in my mind: If you care about your sister, you'll let this go.It hadn't been a warning. It was a threat thinly veiled as paternal concern.And the most infuriating part was that he hadn't even bother to deny the core accusation. He hadn't called me crazy. He hadn't called the visitor log a forgery. He had simply used Lily as leverage to force my silence.I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the mahogany desk, the faded scan of the Westbridge visitor log lying open between my hands. Across the room, Marcus was pacing near the lounge chairs, his phone pressed firmly against his ear.He finally ended the call and looked over at me, shaki

CHAPTER 33Damien’s POVI stared at Ariana's message long after the screen dimmed.Do you know Vanessa Hale?Four simple words.Yet they read like a verdict.I looked at the Manila folder resting on my desk, then back at my phone. There were several ways I could play this.Yes. Too stark.Of course I know her. She’s been in my circle for years. Too dismissive.Or I could deflect—turn it back on her and demand to know why she was suddenly asking about Vanessa in the first place.That was the safest play.My thumbs moved across the glass.Damien: Why are you asking?The double checkmarks turned blue almost instantly. Delivered. Read.No response.I waited.Thirty seconds. A minute. Two.I leaned back in my leather chair, my eyes glued to the dark interface. Something had shifted. Ariana didn't throw out names like Vanessa Hale on a casual whim. Not now. Not with everything unraveling around us.My mind raced through the breadcrumbs: The anonymous texts. The warnings. The archive photo f

CHAPTER 35Ariana’s POVFor a few terrifying seconds, I couldn't move.My eyes remained locked on Vanessa.She was still holding her coffee mug, her expression so perfectly unbothered that it made me question my own sanity. Did she mean to slip that out? Or did I just imagine the venom beneath her words?Maybe she hadn't noticed my reaction. Maybe she had, and was savoring every drop of my panic.I slipped my phone back into my pocket, the screen still buzzing against my thigh."I need to get some air," I said, my voice sounding raspy even to my own ears.Lily looked up from her phone, her forehead creasing. "Already? You haven't even finished your coffee.""Yeah. Just... just for a minute."Vanessa’s gaze tracked me as I stood up, her dark eyes following every movement. "I can come with you if you'd like," she offered softly.The offer was polite. Painfully, terrifyingly polite.I forced a tight, brittle smile. "Actually, I think I just need a second to—"Ding-dong.The doorbell chim

Chapter 37Damien's POVBy eight the next morning, I had read the same three pages four times without absorbing a single word.It wasn't the acquisition report sitting open on my desk, nor the updated figures Marcus had sent over before midnight. I had dealt with more complicated business problems on less sleep than this, and ordinarily, I would have found the challenge almost enjoyable.But my mind kept returning to one date.October 14, 2005.And one name.Vanessa Hale.I leaned back in my chair and looked through the glass walls of my office at the city beyond them. Cars moved along the streets below, people hurried into buildings, and the world carried on with the irritating confidence of a place where everyone believed they understood their own lives.Meanwhile, I was beginning to suspect that half the history of my family had been built on information deliberately kept from me.My mother's death had always been a subject my father handled with the same careful silence. I had lea

Chapter 39Ariana's POVI stared at the photograph for so long that I began to notice things I hadn't seen the first time.The stone arch above the entrance. The faded sign beside the door. The way Warren Kingston stood slightly apart from the others, his expression serious even though whoever had taken the picture had clearly wanted everyone to look at ease.And my mother.Andrea Carter, standing outside Westbridge Children's Home in October 2005, holding the hand of a child whose face I couldn't see.I zoomed in again, hoping that somehow, if I looked closely enough, the photograph would give me an answer.It didn't.The child was standing partly behind Mum, her small fingers wrapped around hers, and although the image was old and slightly blurred, there was something painfully natural about the way Mum held her hand. It wasn't the sort of touch I would expect from someone who had simply stopped to speak to a child she didn't know.It looked familiar.Protective, even.I swallowed a