All Chapters of The Billionaire's Unwanted wife: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The air in the vault, which had been a thin, suffocating haze, was suddenly flooded with the scent of ozone and expensive cologne. I stayed pressed against Alaric, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, as we stared at the man who had just stepped through the ruins of the obsidian door.He was a living ghost.The man looked as though he had been carved from the same cold stone as Alaric, but with a layer of seasoned cruelty that only time and absolute power could produce. His hair was a distinguished silver at the temples, his eyes had the same piercing sea green as Alaric’s, but where Alaric’s eyes held a flickering spark of humanity, these were dead. They were the eyes of a man who had watched the world burn and found the view pleasing.Alaric’s reaction was visceral. He didn't just recoil; he shuddered, a deep, systemic tremor that started in his hands and radiated through his entire body. He looked as though he had been struck by a physical blow."Father," Alaric whi

The tunnel was a damp, claustrophobic throat of stone that seemed to swallow the very idea of hope. We walked in a daze, our clothes clinging to our skin like second skins of grime and salt. Every splash of water echoed like a gunshot in the silence. We were no longer the architects of our own lives; we were scavengers, crawling through the bowels of a city that now viewed us as monsters.Alaric didn't let go of my hand. His grip was a lifeline, the only thing keeping me from dissolving into the darkness. I could feel the tremors still racking his frame, a delayed reaction to the horror of seeing his father and the near-death we had shared. "Where are we going?" I asked, my voice a fragile whisper."I have a place," he replied, his voice rough. "A small apartment in the Lower East Side. It was bought under a shell company my mother established decades ago. It’s not in the Thorne records, and Julian doesn't know it exists. It’s the only place on earth where we can disappear."As we e

The sirens were no longer a distant wail; they were a scream, a rhythmic pulse of blue and red light that bled through the thin curtains of the apartment. The world was closing in. The ten-minute head start Lyra had granted us felt like a heartbeat.Alaric snatched the signet ring from the table, simply grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the back of the apartment."To the fire escape," he commanded; his voice was a low, urgent rasp.We scrambled through the narrow window, the cold night air hitting us like a physical blow. The rain had returned, a relentless deluge that turned the city into a blurred landscape of grey and black. We clung to the iron railings, our bodies pressed together in the cramped space. The physical proximity was electric, a desperate tether in the middle of a storm.As we descended the rusted stairs, I could hear the front door of the apartment being kicked in. The shouting of officers filled the air, their voices booming through the alleyway."They're gone!"

The smoke from the explosion swirled around the room, turning the clinical white of the operating theatre into a blurred, grey wasteland. I lay strapped to the table, my heart hammering against my ribs, staring at the woman who had just breached the wall. She was a mirror image of me, but where I was a storm of emotion, she was a glacier. Her eyes were a deeper shade of amber, void of any hesitation, and her presence carried a lethal weight that made the air feel heavy."Who are you?" I gasped, the words barely escaping my throat.The woman didn't. She rather moved with a terrifying, fluid grace, stepping over the debris. She didn't look at me immediately. She looked at Julian, who had fallen back, the scalpel still clutched in his trembling hand."My name is Maia," she said; her voice was a haunting, perfect replica of mine, but colder, as if forged in an Arctic winter. She proceeded, "And I am the reason your father spent the last decade pretending to be dead. I am the original. Th

The sight of my father was an intense blow. He didn't look at me with the hatred, rivalry, or the greed of a conspirator. He looked at me with nothing; his eyes were wide and empty, just two dull marbles reflecting the luxury of the foyer. He stood perfectly still, his hands steady on the silver tray just like a living statue of obedience. The Matriarch watched my reaction with a flicker of amusement. She didn't explain. She simply turned and began to walk toward the dining hall, her silk gown trailing behind her like a river of ink."Come, children," she murmured. "The roast is getting cold, and I find that hunger makes it hard for such tedious conversation."We followed her, Alaric’s hand gripping mine so tightly that his knuckles were white. Maia walked a few paces behind us, her amber eyes scanning every corner of the ceiling and every shadow in the hallway. She was in her tactical mode, her body coiled and ready to strike, but even she seemed unsettled by the oppressive silence