Chapter 8 My Billionaire

• The silence in the suite was not peaceful—it was heavy, like the air before a storm, thick with the scent of something coming. Elena stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the New York skyline stretching into morning haze beyond the glass. Her fingers were white around the edges of the photo she held. Not even the golden light breaking through could warm the chill that clung to her shoulders.
• Damian’s footsteps announced him before he said a word. He entered with his usual poised control, not a wrinkle in sight, not a hair out of place. Power radiated from him like heat, even in stillness. His presence filled the room—sharp, deliberate, impossible to ignore.
• Elena didn’t turn. Her eyes remained fixed on the photograph in her hand. It was the same one she’d found tucked inside the sealed envelope on their doorstep the night before—an image of her leaving the hospital, Damian beside her. The photo was clear, too clear. It wasn’t just surveillance—it was a message.