Semua Bab Betrayed but Married to a Disabled Billionaire : Bab 11 - Bab 20

Harry sat in his office, his expression dark. His sharp gaze was fixed on the laptop screen before he shifted his eyes to the tall, broad-shouldered man standing in front of him. Adrian, his subordinate, was waiting for further instructions.“Find out everything about Arabella and her family,” Harry commanded in a low but firm voice. “I want a full report. Background, family ties, everything you can dig up. And... why did she come back?”Adrian gave a swift nod. “I'll handle it right away, sir.”Harry leaned back in his chair, his eyes still narrowed with suspicion. Arabella was his wife—at least on paper. But the more time passed, the more he found himself curious about her.A few hours later, Adrian returned with the results of his investigation.“Sir, Miss Arabella comes from a complicated family background. Unlike her younger sibling, she never went to college. Her father favors her sibling more. Right now, Miss Arabella is staying at her late mother’s house, which is currently un

Arabella stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection with a mix of emotions. The gown Jimmy had given her was nothing short of breathtaking—a white evening dress with an elegant cut that hugged her figure perfectly. The fabric draped gracefully, accentuating her slender waist and exposing her delicate shoulders. Her usually neatly tied black hair was left loose, framing her face with effortless beauty. A touch of makeup highlighted her features, making her look even more stunning.As she stepped out of her room, she halted for a moment, feeling two pairs of eyes locked onto her. Jimmy, who was usually composed and professional, seemed utterly dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t believe the sight before him.“Wow,” he muttered unconsciously. To Jimmy, it was as if a goddess had descended from the heavens.Arabella stifled a small laugh. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me, Jimmy.”Jimmy blinked a few times before finally chuckling and shaking his head. “Forgive me, ma’am. I just… w

Harry haggled the wheelchair with dignified caution, but a tempest raged in his breast. Adam had gone too far. His previous words still echoed in Harry's mind, piercing his pride step by step.He was a useless husband.But what gnawed at him more was that Arabella had to suffer all alone.Did Harry tell her so in so many words? No. Did he show concern for Arabella? Not by any means. His pride was higher than that.Harry quietly decided to depart the party early. He did not notice curious glances from partygoers or even the shock-stricken face of Aunt Tessa to see him unceremoniously deciding to leave without a word. The prime feature hadn’t yet started.“Harry must be offended and enraged,” Arabella whispered to herself, lifting up her beautiful gown as she followed him, although with a pout.Inside the car on their way home, the atmosphere was stifling. The only sound was the tires rolling over the asphalt. Arabella sat in the backseat, head resting on the window, face half-illuminat

Arabella stepped out of Edwin’s office with her mind in turmoil. The answers her father had given her felt too neat, too rehearsed. She bit her lip, trying to push away the strange feeling gnawing at her chest. But no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the unease only grew stronger.As she reached the sidewalk, raindrops began to fall. At first, they were gentle, but within seconds, a heavy downpour engulfed the city. Arabella raised her hand to shield her face as the wind howled, whipping her long hair in every direction.“Great! Another downpour,” she muttered, regretting her hasty decision to leave the office without an umbrella or a raincoat.Terraverde Village had been unpredictable lately, caught in the midst of seasonal transitions.Not wanting to stand in the rain any longer, she waved at an approaching car, assuming it was a taxi. To her dismay, the vehicle sped past her, splashing dirty water all over her clothes.It was only then that she realized—it wasn’t a taxi.“Yo

The golden hues of the evening sky seeped through the large windows of the rehabilitation room, casting long shadows on the polished floor. The faint scent of antiseptic mixed with the soothing aroma of freshly brewed tea. In the center of the room, Harry sat in his wheelchair, his gaze fixed straight ahead, locked onto the parallel bars standing tall before him.The medical team was already in position. A stout, middle-aged physiotherapist named Dr. Raymond stood beside him, his expression calm yet encouraging. “We’ll start slow today, Harry. There’s no rush,” he said patiently.Harry inhaled deeply. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. His legs had long lost their strength, his muscles had weakened, and the pain that awaited him was inevitable. But determination burned in his chest. He had to walk again.Dr. Raymond crouched beside him, gently assessing the condition of his legs with careful hands. “I’ll help you stand first, then we’ll try small steps. If it hurts, tell me. Don’t push yo