Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Accidental Billionaire Husband : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Katia’s POVMonday mornings were usually my favorite. There was something clean about them, fresh calendars, quiet hallways, and the sense that the world hadn’t yet had time to complicate itself. I liked arriving early and liked the hum of the building before it filled with voices and demands. IG Technologies felt most like mine in those hours.Sam was already seated across from me, tablet open, stylus tapping lightly as she scrolled through projections.“If we stagger the rollout,” she said, “WEG gets their AI logistics upgrade in phases. Hotels first, then resorts, then sports venues. It reduces disruption and gives us leverage if they try to renegotiate.”I nodded, eyes on the screen in front of me. “And it gives us time to test live environments without burning goodwill.”“Exactly.”We were in sync like that; years of building from nothing had done that to us. Sam didn’t need to overexplain, and I didn’t need to micromanage. Trust was a currency we’d earned the hard way.She glanc

Delia’s POVI didn’t touch the food. The plate sat in front of me, untouched and growing cold, steam long gone, the carefully arranged meal reduced to decoration just like me. Julian’s chair across the table was already empty, pushed back and abandoned, a quiet reminder that he had left without looking back. I stared at the plate for a few seconds, my hands resting uselessly on either side of it, my appetite completely gone, my body too tight with shock to remember how to breathe properly.Already married.The words replayed in my head again and again, each time cutting deeper, peeling away another layer of illusion I had carefully built around myself. I had walked into that restaurant believing. No, hoping that this was the moment everything would change. That he would finally look at me the way he looked at her. That I would matter.Instead, I was given terms. Cold fucking terms!I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping softly against the floor. A waiter glanced in my directi

Julian’s POVThe dawn over the Windsor Estate didn't break; it bled. A pale, sickly grey light filtered through the heavy condensation on my bedroom windows, illuminating the sprawling gardens that had been manicured into submission for today’s spectacle. I had been awake since three in the morning, staring at the ceiling, tracing the intricate plaster moldings as if they held some secret escape hatch. There were none. In the quiet hours of the night, the weight of the Windsor name felt less like a crown and more like a shroud.I stood in the center of my dressing room, a space larger than most people’s apartments, and felt the walls closing in. Every object in this room was a testament to a legacy I hadn’t asked for but was sworn to protect. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected a man I struggled to recognize. Sunlight finally fought its way through the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, but the warmth remained outside the glass.I was being dress

Katia’s POVThe air at forty thousand feet was the only thing that ever felt truly clean.I sat in the captain’s chair of my Gulfstream G650, my hands resting lightly on the controls, feeling the subtle vibration of the twin engines through the floorboards. To most people, a private jet was a symbol of status, a luxury to be enjoyed from the plush leather seats of the cabin with a glass of vintage Cristal. To me, it was a machine of logic. I didn't want to be served; I wanted to be the one navigating the trajectory.Beside me, in the co-pilot’s seat, Aiden sat perched on a customized booster, his own miniature headset adjusted over his dark curls. He wasn't watching a movie or playing a game. His wide, sapphire eyes were glued to the primary flight display, watching the digital horizon tilt as I made a minor correction to our heading."Vector heading two-seven-zero, Mom?" he asked, his voice crisp through the comms."Correct, Captain," I replied, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. "

Julian’s POVThe silence of my study at the Windsor estate was the only thing I tolerated on a Sunday morning.The wedding, the transactional union to Delia, was over. It had been an affair, a necessary piece of theater to satisfy the Kensington merger and my grandmother's archaic demands. Delia was tucked away in her room, presumably basking in a title that carried no legal weight. I had been clear with her before we even reached the altar: I was already married. Legally. Secretly. This "marriage" was a placeholder to keep the Windsor Empire stable and the Kensingtons from collapsing into bankruptcy.I sat behind my desk, the glow of four monitors illuminating the sharp, cold angles of my face. I wasn't thinking about my "bride." I was thinking about the G650 that had slipped out of Teterboro five days ago. My "Phantom Model" alert pulsed on my central screen.Katia Kensington has posted for the first time in six years.I followed her the time Zane and I were curious what the IG Tech