All Chapters of The Billionaire's Weakness : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

AVA'S POV The ride back home was quite gloomy as James kept his gaze away from mine. Looking over to where he sat, I outlined his perfect jawline with my eyes as his brown hazel nut eyes portrayed tiredness and maturity. I looked at him again admiring his facial features. “Snap out of it.” I told myself. Maybe he was hiding something. I allowed my iniquity to take advantage of me. “Why are you not driving today?” I asked from where I sat. “Why can’t you not be quiet?” He retorted instantly. “You haven’t answered my question.” I fired back. “You know, you’re still someone I can’t actually comprehend and understand.” James spoke, without looking at my direction. “Isn’t that why you fell for me?” I asked, seriously. “Is that the lie you keep telling yourself?” James replied, as he held my gaze with frugality and carelessness. “Let me guess…I'm an excuse you want to use to get back—" “Jada? Is this what this is all about?” James asked with no hint of surprise vis

The private clinic stood tucked away in the heart of Manhattan, a sleek, modern building shielded from prying eyes by towering oaks and a wrought-iron gate. James Valquez walked through the marble foyer, his polished leather shoes clicking against the pristine floor. He was met with the subtle scent of antiseptic and the muted tones of classical music playing from invisible speakers. The environment was carefully curated—calm, sterile, and unthreatening, much like the man he was about to meet. Dr. Alexander Howard was more than a physician; he was a confidant, a reluctant therapist, and perhaps the only person in the world who truly knew the weight of James Valquez’s burdens. “Mr. Valquez,” Dr. Howard greeted him as he entered the office. He rose from behind his desk, extending a hand. “Punctual as ever.” James shook the offered hand briefly, his expression impassive. He wasn’t a man to waste time on pleasantries. “Howard,” he said curtly, lowering himself into the leather cha

The morning light filtered through the tall glass windows of the Valquez estate, throwing long shadows across the marbled floor. The penthouse was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below. Silence wasn’t unusual in James Valquez’s world—it was the absence of chaos that often gave him solace. But today, that silence held a tension so sharp it could slice through glass. James sat at the dining table, his face unreadable, his gaze fixed on the steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He was dressed impeccably, as always, in a tailored gray suit and a crisp white shirt. His appearance gave nothing away, but his clenched jaw betrayed his inner turmoil. Ava Affleck, his contract wife, stood a few feet away, leaning against the counter. She was dressed casually in loose jeans and an oversized sweater, her arms crossed over her chest. Her honey-blonde hair was unkempt, and her face carried the remnants of a sleepless night. The air between them was heavy, charged with uns

AVA’S POV I stood in the center of the expansive kitchen, my arms crossed and my lips pursed in determination. The room was immaculate—almost too immaculate. The polished marble countertops gleamed under the warm glow of recessed lights, and every utensil was in its rightful place. It was the kind of kitchen that was frequently used by James maids, yet, seemed as if it had remained untouched for as long as I’ve been in this contract marriage with James Valquez. Tonight, that was about to change. James leaned against the doorway, arms folded, an amused smirk playing on his lips. His sharp features were alight with curiosity as he watched me move about the kitchen with an energy he hadn’t expected. “You know,” he began, his deep voice cutting through the soft hum of the refrigerator, “I’m pretty sure you’ve never even boiled water in your life. Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I shot him a glare over my shoulder, my eyes glittering with defiance. “I know what I’m doing

AVA'S POV I sat cross-legged on the edge of the balcony, my eyes closed, my breathing steady as the pale rays of dawn kissed my skin. The delicate hum of the city’s morning buzz was a soothing backdrop to my meditation. This was my sanctuary, the one time of day I could steal for myself, a moment untouched by the constraints of my cold, calculated marriage to James Valquez. My hands rested lightly on my knees, my mind focused on the mantra she had been repeating in her head since sunrise. Inhale. Exhale. Balance. The slam of a door shattered the peace like a rock through glass. My serene expression faltered, my eyes snapping open as heavy, purposeful footsteps advanced toward my direction. I know didn’t need to look to know who it was. James always moved with an air of domination, his presence a force that demanded attention. “Ava,” his voice was deep, clipped, and cold. It was the voice of a man who didn’t ask; he commanded. I turned my head slightly, taking in the si