All Chapters of The Billionaire's Weakness : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

JAMES POV The morning sun cast long shadows across my office, its warm light doing little to dispel the cold, foreboding tension in the room. I sat at my massive mahogany desk, papers spread before me. My sharp eyes scanned the fine print of a contract—one that represented a bittersweet chapter in my life. Across from me sat my lawyer and longtime confidant, Charles Reed, his expression as neutral as ever, though his eyes betrayed a hint of concern. “So it’s settled?” Charles asked, breaking the silence. I nodded, my jaw tightening. “Yes. Sell the entire division.” Charles hesitated for a moment. “Are you sure? Valquez Media has been one of your most stable investments for the last decade. It’s not just a business—it’s your legacy.” I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. “Legacies can’t be managed from the grave, Charles. It’s better to prepare now than leave a mess for others to clean up.” Charles studied me for a moment before nodding. “Understood. I’ll hand

JAMES POV I had always sought solace in places where the world felt far away. Growing up as the heir to the Valquez empire, my life had been a whirlwind of boardrooms, skyscrapers, and expectations. But here, atop this hilltop retreat, none of that mattered. The soft rustling of pines, the crisp mountain air, and the expansive view of the valley below reminded me of simpler times—of peace I had long forgotten. Ava Affleck, my wife of circumstance and intrigue, stood beside me, her short chestnut brown hair catching the faint rays of the setting sun. For two weeks, we had been navigating a strange yet intoxicating dynamic. What began as a marriage of convenience had morphed into something we both couldn’t fully name. I looked at her, my eyes softer than she had ever seen. Ava turned, catching my gaze, and arched a brow. “You’re staring, James,” she teased, her tone light but with an undercurrent of curiosity. “Am I not allowed to admire my wife?” My voice, deep and smooth, ca

Brandon Smith sat alone in his expansive study, the heavy scent of aged oak mingling with the sharp bite of bourbon that clung to the air. A glass of Macallan Rare Cask trembled in his hand as he stared into the flickering flames of the oversized fireplace. The flames danced with a mockery that mirrored the searing humiliation still fresh in his mind.He could still feel the ghost of James Valquez’s fists. The humiliation hadn’t come just from the physical beating—it was the powerlessness, the way James had looked down on him with scorn after it was over. And Ava... Ava had watched it all unfold, her wide eyes holding no pity, no love, only relief as she clung to James as though he'd been her savior.The memory made Brandon’s chest tighten. Ava was his. She had always been his, long before James came into the picture. It didn’t matter that she had run away, claimed she couldn’t “breathe” in their relationship. None of it mattered. What mattered now was restoring his pride, proving to

The city of Simville shimmered under a veil of glittering streetlights and the glow of distant skyscrapers. The cool evening air carried the faint scent of jasmine from nearby gardens, mingling with the aromatic pull of food from fine restaurants lining the streets. Ava Valquez adjusted the strap of her sleek black dress as she stepped out of the car, her stiletto heels clicking against the pavement. James Valquez followed close behind, his sharp suit complementing his broad shoulders and determined stride. Ava linked her arm through James’s as they approached La Concordia, a high-end bistro known for its exclusivity and romantic ambiance. It had been weeks they dressed elegantly for themselves, and tonight felt overdue—a sanctuary from the chaos of their lives. But James’s jaw tightened, his usual calm demeanor veiled by a storm Ava had learned to recognize. “Alright, James,” she said softly, turning to him as they were seated at a candlelit table in a quiet corner. Her shini

The mansion was quiet, except for the crackling of the furnace that cast flickering shadows against the walls of the living room. James Valquez stood by the grand marble fireplace, his hands in his pockets, staring into the dancing flames as though the answers he sought lay hidden within. His brow was furrowed, his normally composed demeanor betraying traces of unease. Behind him, Ava Affleck sat curled on the oversized leather couch, her bare feet tucked beneath her. The warmth of the room didn’t reach her; she felt cold and restless, a deep sense of unease clawing at her chest. James turned, his sharp eyes meeting hers. She had always been a mystery to him—defiant yet vulnerable, stubborn yet compassionate. What had started as a marriage of convenience, a strategic contract to salvage his public image and provide her financial security, had morphed into something far more complicated. Against his better judgment, he had fallen for her. Completely. “Ava,” he said finally,