Semua Bab The Contract Bride: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The air in Soirye’s small apartment hung heavy with the scent of stale coffee and unwashed laundry. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant, chaotic energy that usually filled the space. Six months had passed since Damon had left for the Philippines, and the silence that had settled over the apartment was deafening. Soirye, perched on the edge of her worn-out couch, stared blankly at the flickering television screen. The news droned on in the background, a cacophony of words that seemed to blur together, devoid of meaning. Her gaze drifted to the framed photograph on the coffee table, a snapshot of Damon and her, arms slung around each other, their faces lit with a shared joy. It was a reminder of the laughter, the adventures, the unspoken bond that had connected them.A wave of longing washed over her, a bittersweet ache that tugged at her heart. She missed Damon’s infectious laughter, his quick wit, his unwavering presence. She missed the way he could effortlessly fill a room with h

The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Soirye’s penthouse, casting long, sharp shadows across the meticulously curated space. She sat at her sleek, minimalist breakfast bar, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand, her gaze fixed on the digital tablet in front of her. The screen displayed the latest news headlines, a kaleidoscope of global events, political upheavals, and celebrity gossip. But it was one particular headline that caught her eye, a headline that sent a jolt of anger coursing through her veins. It was a picture of Damon, his arm slung around a stunning woman with cascading blonde hair, their faces lit by the dazzling lights of a Parisian café. The caption read: "Damon Reyes Spotted with Mystery Woman in Paris."Soirye felt a familiar wave of bitterness wash over her, a sensation that had become a constant companion in the months since Damon had left. She had tried to move on, to focus on her empire, to build a life that didn't revolve around hi

The rain outside mirrored the storm brewing inside her. A steady, relentless downpour that mirrored the tears she’d been holding back for weeks. She stared at the worn-out photo in her hand, the edges softened by countless touches. Damon’s smile, once a beacon of warmth, now felt like a distant memory. “Wala na akong pakialam kay Damon,” she whispered, the words hollow and unconvincing, even to her own ears.She had repeated this mantra for days, a shield against the waves of hurt that threatened to drown her. It was a lie, a desperate attempt to convince herself of a truth she wasn’t ready to face. How could she not care? He was the sun that had warmed her for years, the moon that had guided her through darkness. He was the air she breathed, the rhythm of her heart. And now, he was gone.The apartment felt suffocatingly empty. Every corner held a silent echo of his presence. The worn-out armchair where he’d read aloud, the kitchen counter where they’d shared late-night coffee, the be

The air crackled with a nervous energy that was palpable even in the quiet of their living room. Damon paced back and forth, his hands clenched into fists, his brow furrowed in a perpetual frown. Soirye, seated on the couch, watched him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation."Damon, please stop pacing," she said, her voice laced with a hint of weariness. "You're making me dizzy."He stopped abruptly, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of desperation and pleading. "I can't help it, Soirye. My grandparents are coming tomorrow, and I need to make sure everything is perfect.""Perfect for what?" she asked, her voice dry. "A staged performance?"Damon winced, his eyes dropping to the floor. "It's not like that, Soirye. I just want them to see us happy. To see that we're still together, that we're still a family."Soirye sighed, her heart sinking. Damon's grandparents, Lolo and Lola, were the epitome of traditional values. They had always been supportive of their grandson, but they

The sleek, minimalist apartment, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and panoramic city views, felt like a cage. Soirye, pacing the living room, her hands clenched into fists, felt a surge of frustration. She had promised herself, had promised Damon, that she would never let him back into her home. Never again would she allow him to taint the space that had been her sanctuary, her haven.But now, she was breaking that promise. She had no choice.The interview, the one she had forced upon him, was scheduled for tomorrow. She had carefully crafted the questions, the narrative, the entire scenario, to expose his lies, his manipulations, his betrayals. It was a chance to reclaim her story, to reclaim her power, to finally break free from the shackles of his control.But it was also a dangerous game. The media, ever hungry for a juicy story, would be circling like sharks. They knew about the divorce, about the scandal, about the billions at stake. If they discovered that Damon and Soirye wer