บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire's Reluctant Bride : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The daylight streams through the enormous windows of the penthouse, however it doesn't feel warm. The room is colder than it ought to be. I sit on the edge of the couch, my fingers absentmindedly following the edge of my coffee cup, attempting to discover some similarity to calm. But, it's hard. All that feels like it's getting past me."Leila, we really need to talk."I take a quick look up to find Alexander standing in the doorway, his expression more strained than usual. His suit is perfectly tailored, his dark eyes shadowed, but there's something in his voice that cuts through the stiffness like a sharp dagger. The weight of his words lands heavily in the space between us."About what?" I ask, trying to keep my tone even. But even I can hear the frustration persist in staying beneath the surface.He steps forward, his jaw clenched. "You know damn well what." He makes a gesture slightly at the room, at the whole situation. "The business, the sabotage, the fact that we’re being atta

The meeting room is chilly, the sort of cool that saturates your bones. The long, smooth table between Alexander and me feels like a tremendous gorge, one that is just getting more extensive the more we sit opposite one another."Leila, I don't think you completely figure out the circumstance," Alexander says, his voice low and cut. He's been talking like this throughout the previous ten minutes, his tone cool, legitimate — like he's attempting to address me instead of examine.I sit in my seat, my hands twisting into clenched hands on the table. His belittling tone is getting to me, and it takes all that I have not to snap."I see completely well," I say, keeping my voice as consistent as I can make due. "This choice will influence the workers and the fate of the organization. I'm not simply staying here since I'm your wife. I'm staying here since I have a stake in this, as well."He doesn't check me out. His eyes stay fixed on the financial report before him, as though he's, as of n

The morning started like any other, with the soft hum of the city outside our penthouse and the steady rhythm of life moving forward. But as I entered the living room, the first thing I noticed wasn’t the view—it was Alexander.He was standing near the window, phone in hand, eyes narrowing at something on the screen. I could feel the tension radiating off him, even from across the room.“Is everything okay?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended. He didn’t look up immediately, and for a second, I almost regretted asking. But then he finally turned, his expression hard, almost guarded.“It’s just the news,” he muttered, shoving the phone into his pocket. “Nothing for you to worry about.”I frowned, crossing the room toward him. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.”His jaw tightened. “I’m not shutting you out. I just don’t want to drag you into this mess.”But I had already seen enough. I’d been living with Alexander long enough to know when something was off. His eyes, normally col

The phone rings, its shrill tone cutting through the silence of our apartment. I glance at the clock. It’s late, but the call isn’t unexpected. The moment I press accept, my father’s voice comes through, strained, far more panicked than usual.“Leila, we need to talk. It’s urgent.”I sit up straighter, the weight of his words pressing down on my chest. “What is it, Dad?”There’s a pause on the other end like he's gathering his courage before speaking.“The financial situation… it’s worse than I thought. The debts have piled up even more than we anticipated. I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”My stomach churns, and I rub my temples, trying to steady myself. “But we were supposed to have more time… We were managing everything slowly, little by little.”“I thought so too,” my father says, his voice tight, “but things have escalated. We might lose everything, Leila.”I close my eyes, feeling the weight of his words sink in. The pressure in my chest feels suffocating. I glance at

The weight of everything presses down on me like a stone sitting on my chest. I wake up in the morning, gazing at the roof, and briefly, I keep thinking about whether any of this — the wedding, the commitments, the moving tides of my new life — are genuine.Alexander's side of the bed is cold once more, and the space between us feels more critical now than it did even only a couple of days prior.I swing my legs off the bed and press my palms against the cool surface of the end table, steadied by the quietness of the room. The calm is frightening. I long for when quietness felt consoling, not choking. Maybe the quietness has turned into a wall between us, a barrier I’m unsure how to break through anymore.I hear the soft sound of footsteps outside our bedroom door, and a moment later, it creaks open. I don’t even have to look up to know it’s him—Alexander. He’s standing there, a shadow in the doorway, his expression unreadable. He’s dressed for another day at the office, but the lin