All Chapters of My Accidental Billionaire Husband : Chapter 251 - Chapter 260

~Katia~The silence that followed Jude’s words was not just heavy; it was a physical pressure that made the air in my office turn to ice.Tessa stood frozen in the open threshold of the double doors, her hand still raised from the collision, her social smile dying a sudden, ghastly death on her lips. Her dark eyes darted from the tall, battered frame of the British racing heir to me, her mind frantically trying to process the sheer, staggering weight of the word he had just used.Wife.Inside my chest, the cold adrenaline of my corporate defense instantly turned into a hot, violent spike of pure rage. I didn't care about his titanium screws, his wire-mesh jaw, or the looming forty-eight-hour clock running in Julian's chest. I didn't care about the press outside or the stock prices of IG Technologies. I only cared about the fact that this broken, abusive predator had just walked into my fortress and tried to write his name on my life.I didn't laugh. I didn't flinch. I slowly stepped o

~Julian~The rain was hitting the floor-to-ceiling glass of my Manhattan office in a steady, monotonous sheet.I was standing by the window, my hands shoved deep into my trouser pockets, my mind tracking the forty-eight-hour clock. It was eleven forty-two. In eighteen minutes, Jude Wolfe’s deadline was going to expire, and I was already preparing the corporate and physical infrastructure orders to systematically erase his racing division from the East Coast ledger.The heavy, double-oak doors of my private office didn't just open. They were slammed back with a sudden, violent force that sent the brass handles cracking hard against the wood stops.I didn't flinch. I slowly turned my head, my eyes locking onto the threshold.Zane was there, his hand locked around Sam’s arm, his face pale and tight as he tried to physically hold her back from stepping across the line. But Sam was completely beyond his control. Her hair was slightly messy, her blazer was wrinkled, and her face was a flush

~Julian's POV~The abandoned WEG shipyard warehouse in Brooklyn smelled of salt, rusted iron, and fifty years of stagnant oil.It was freezing inside. The rain from the harbor was hitting the corrugated steel roof in a heavy, deafening roar, but the sound was distant, blocked out by the massive, cavernous silence of the concrete floor. In the center of the dark space, hanging from a single, frayed black wire, a high-intensity halogen bulb cast a harsh, stark cone of white light onto the damp concrete.Directly beneath the light, tied to a heavy steel industrial chair with thick, reinforced zip ties, was Jude Wolfe.He was barely conscious. His head was slumped forward, a thin, dark trail of fresh blood dripping from his nose onto the torn fabric of his silk shirt. His face was already a ruined, swollen mask of plum-colored bruising from the penthouse siege, but the fresh laceration at the back of his skull—courtesy of Sam’s fire extinguisher—had been crudely bandaged with a piece of d

~Delia~His car was not in the garage.I knew before I even checked. I walked to my window in the early morning gray and looked down at the private garage and confirmed what I already felt—the estate had that stillness it only had when Julian was not in it. Not quiet exactly. Something emptier than quiet.He had not come home again.I turned from the window and sat on the edge of my bed and looked at my hands.This had been happening for weeks. Months, if I counted properly, which I was choosing not to do because the number was not a comfortable one. Julian left in the morning and did not come back at night, and I had no idea where he went. That was the truth of it. I did not know. I had tried to find out—I had asked the security team casually, had tried to read his schedule from the communications that passed through the estate, had listened for anything that would tell me where he spent his evenings.Nothing.The security team did not discuss Julian's movements. His schedule was man

~Katia~The bedroom in the upstate Windsor estate was quiet—too quiet, the kind of heavy, isolated silence that only a sprawling property shrouded in misty rain could produce. Down the hall, Aiden was already asleep, his room dark and settled. I was sitting on the edge of the mattress, the artificial glow of my tablet illuminating the dark as I tried to review the shipping manifests for the Brooklyn shipyard, when my phone vibrated in my palm.The screen lit up with his name.I swiped the screen and pressed the receiver to my ear, expecting his usual gravelly, possessive whisper. But when he spoke, his voice sounded like iron sliding over stone—stiff, strained, and strangely formal.“Ms. Kensington,” he rasped, the words forced through a tightening throat. “I'm afraid you will have to rush to my home. We need to discuss the London extension. It's urgent.”The line went dead before I could even draw a breath to answer.I stared at the darkened screen, my stomach hitting concrete as the