All Chapters of Billionaire's Choice: Chapter 61 - Chapter 68

Gabriel's POVMorning comes like a slow, merciless execution.The sheets beside me are cold. The space where she had once been—where her warmth had lingered hours ago—is empty now. I stare at it for too long, my body still, my mind awake but unwilling to move. Maybe if I stay like this, if I don’t breathe too deep, the weight in my chest won’t crush me whole.But reality isn’t kind. It never is.Aria is gone.The realization is a sharp, unforgiving blade. I told myself last night that this was necessary, that this was the only way. I had made my choice. And yet, the silence she left behind feels like a living thing, curling around me, digging its claws in.I exhale through my nose, forcing my body upright. The world will talk. The media will speculate. That’s the least of my concerns.Because as long as Aria is still my wife, she’ll never stop being a target.I knew this the moment I saw the tattoo on the man who tried to take her. The same tattoo Antonia had. The same one I’d seen be

Aria’s POVIt had been exactly two months since that night.Two months since I had gasped for breath, my body thrashing against the weight of water pulling me under. Since my lungs burned, my chest clenched, my limbs flailed uselessly in the cold grip of the pool. I had never learned how to swim. The moment I hit the water, panic took over, swallowing every rational thought. I could still remember the way my pulse had hammered in my ears, the desperate way I had kicked and clawed at nothing, the helplessness of realizing I couldn’t save myself.Then hands. Strong, steady hands cutting through the water, pulling me up, dragging me toward the surface. Air rushed into my lungs in sharp, painful gulps the moment I broke free from the depths. I had coughed, sputtering, gripping onto the stranger who had saved me as if my life depended on it because it had. I never got his name. Never saw his face clearly through the haze of fear and chlorine-stung eyes. By the time my friends arrived, brea

Aria's POVThe walk to work was peaceful, the kind of morning that made me grateful for this change. The air was crisp, the streets quieter than what I was used to, and for once, I didn’t feel like I was constantly racing against something I couldn’t see.Lennox & Co. Publishing was not the biggest publishing house in the country, but it was reputable, respected. It had an impressive catalog of bestsellers, a growing influence in the industry, and most importantly, a work culture that wasn’t suffocating. Here, creativity thrived. Ideas were encouraged, not dismissed. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I was in a space where I could breathe.As I pushed through the glass doors, the familiar hum of morning activity greeted me. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, blending with the faint aroma of paper and ink. Editors and assistants moved around with purpose, some already deep in conversations about manuscripts and market trends.I had barely settled at my desk when I h

Gabriel's POVTCA wasn’t new to me. I had trained here for years, stepping into the ring whenever I needed an outlet. Back then, it was about control, about reminding myself that power wasn’t just about wealth or influence, it was about knowing I could end a fight before it even started.But now, it wasn’t about control.It was about survival.I adjusted my stance, muscles coiled with tension as Cole, my personal trainer, circled me. His gaze was sharp, unreadable, assessing, calculating. There was no sympathy in his eyes, no wasted words. Just the demand for perfection."You’re too slow," he said flatly. "Again."TCA wasn’t a regular gym. It was where professionals trained; fighters, bodyguards, men who understood that losing wasn’t an option.There were no influencers shadowboxing in front of mirrors, no weekend warriors pretending to be something they weren’t. This was a place for men who needed to be ready for war.I wasn’t new to combat, but this wasn’t about street fights or bru