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

AVA'S POV The air in the Valquez manor's private lounge was still, a calculated silence interrupted only by the gentle crackle of the grand fireplace. Winter raged outside, its howling wind rattling the antique window panes, but inside, the room was a cocoon of warmth and unyielding tension. James sat in his leather chair, his angular features illuminated by the golden glow of the fire. He was the picture of control: crisp shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his cold brown eyes fixed on the chessboard between him and I. I sat across from him, my posture signifying a mixture of defiance and hesitation. I wasn’t dressed to impress tonight, my unusual fancy dinner dress replaced by a cozy knit sweater. My delicate fingers hovered over the wooden bishop, hesitant as I weighed my next move. “Indecision is a killer,” James said, his voice as smooth as the aged whiskey in his glass. He leaned back, studying my with an expression of detached amusement. “Not just in chess, but in

The sun was barely over the horizon when James Valquez stood in his private study, sipping a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. The morning light streamed through the expansive windows, illuminating the room’s sleek furnishings, but James’s expression remained shadowed. The previous night’s events replayed in his mind: Ava, poised yet unyielding, strategically maneuvering her way to victory in their checkers game. It was supposed to have been a harmless distraction, a trivial competition to remind her who held the power in their marriage. Instead, it had turned into a pointed reminder that Ava Affleck—now Ava Valquez—was more than just a pawn in his carefully orchestrated game. He hated to admit it, but he respected her now, even if only a little. Not that he would ever tell her that. Yet the memory of her triumphant smirk and the spark in her brown eyes lingered, unsettling him. Perhaps this was why, when he noticed her preparing to leave for work this morning, he’d impu

James POV “Release him.” I said, looking at him keenly as I studied his every move. He jacked out of my guards grip, despite being released slowly. He abruptly advanced towards me, proposing what seem like a fight towards me. I looked into his eyes with lack of regret to what ever happens next as my resolve was as frim as clay. Brandon stood directly opposite me as he use his head to head butt me with all his might. The impact was barely impactful as a stood rigid in my stance. I abruptly flashed a mischievous grin across my face. “My turn.” I blankly said as I replaced my words with my heavy fist brushing through his mouth. Brandon abruptly staggered back before regaining consciousness. I moved like a freight train, my massive fist swinging with the force of a battering ram. Brandon tried to duck, but he wasn’t fast enough. The punch connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward into the open space. The dull thud of flesh against his Jaw bone echoed thr

Ava stepped closer, her face softening as she examined the damage. She pressed the ice pack gently against his ribs, her fingers brushing his skin. He hissed at the cold, but he didn’t pull away. “You should’ve seen Brandon,” he muttered, trying to inject some levity into the tense silence. “I don’t care about brandon,” Ava replied, her voice steady. “I care about you not ending up in a hospital bed.” James’s gaze flicked to her, surprise flashing in his eyes before it was quickly replaced by his usual stoicism. “Why do you care, now?" Ava paused, her hand stilling for a moment before she resumed her work. “Because, despite how infuriating you are, I don’t want to see you hurt. Is that such a strange concept?” His lips pressed into a thin line, and for once, he had no retort. She moved on to the cut near his temple, grabbing a first aid kit from under the sink. She stood between his knees, her proximity unnerving him more than he cared to admit. He could feel her warmt

The whiskey bottle was nearly empty, its amber contents reduced to a thin layer at the bottom. James Valquez sat slumped in a leather armchair in one of the estate’s many lounges, the room dimly lit by a single floor lamp. The edges of his vision blurred as the alcohol coursed through his veins, dulling the sharp edges of his thoughts but amplifying the emotions he tried so hard to suppress. He had tried to lose himself in the whiskey after his axe-throwing session, but the memories of the day, of Emma, and of Ava, had followed him like shadows. Ava. Her name lingered in his mind, unwelcome but persistent. She had been a thorn in his side from the beginning—a contract wife meant to serve as a distraction for the public and shield him from unwelcome scrutiny. She wasn’t supposed to matter. She wasn’t supposed to… affect him. But she did. And that was becoming a problem. James stood, unsteady on his feet, the whiskey bottle dangling loosely from his hand. He felt the burn o