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The Slumdog Billionaire 88. Are You Cheating On My Friend ?
Chapter Eighty EightHenry woke up early, quietly slipping out of bed, careful not to wake Jasmine. He had a task ahead of him that morning, and he wanted to get it done before anyone in the household, especially Mrs. Woods, could question his intentions.Pulling on a simple shirt and jeans, Henry headed outside to his bike. He kicked it to life, the soft hum breaking the early morning silence as he set off toward the car dealership. The morning air was cool against his face, and he felt a certain sense of freedom as he navigated the streets, his mind focused on the task at hand. Jasper’s demands were laughable, but he was determined to handle it calmly, even if it meant buying a car he knew Jasper would inevitably mistreat.As Henry approached the Mercedes Benz dealership, he noticed a group of staff from the nearby G-Wagon dealership peering at him from the entrance, their faces lighting up with recognition. They exchanged hurried whispers before five of them stepped forward, hurr
The Slumdog Billionaire 89. The Senators’s Mistress
Chapter Eighty Nine Henry froze as Damon’s wife, her eyes wide with panic, subtly signaled him to stay quiet, pressing a finger to her lips. He immediately recognized the man beside her—a senator, known for his political influence and power. Henry, realizing the sensitivity of the situation, decided against causing a public scene, especially one involving a powerful figure and a matter that wasn’t his direct business.“Who’s this?” the senator asked, glancing at Henry with mild curiosity.“Oh, he’s just an old schoolmate,” Damon’s wife replied quickly, her voice smooth but tense, her smile tight.The senator gave Henry an amused look and extended his hand for a firm handshake. As he pulled his hand back, he dropped a small bundle of cash—ten wads of hundred-dollar bills, a generous sum—into Henry’s hand. “Take this,” the senator said, his tone filled with casual authority, “and take good care of yourself.”Henry looked down at the money, his face impassive. He knew this was meant a
The Slumdog Billionaire 90. The Accident
Chapter Ninety Henry placed a hand on Damon’s shoulder, his voice calm and gentle. “Listen, Damon, I know this is painful. But before you make any decisions, take some time to think. Don’t let emotions push you into doing something you might regret.”Damon shook his head, still staring at the floor, his mind clearly racing with disbelief and hurt. “I can’t believe she would do this to me, Henry,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “Especially now, when she’s… four months pregnant. I thought we were building a family.”Henry sighed, feeling the weight of his friend’s heartbreak. “I know, Damon. And that’s why you need to be careful. Make sure to protect yourself legally. If she’s capable of betrayal, there’s a chance she might try to leave with more than just her pride.” He paused, giving Damon a meaningful look. “Secure your assets, your money—everything. That way, if things take a turn, you’re prepared.”Damon nodded slowly, absorbing the advice, though he still looked dazed. “It’s
The Slumdog Billionaire 91. The Gambling Father Inlaw
Chapter Ninety One As the rip spread across the painting, Mr. Woods gasped, his face paling as he realized the damage he’d just caused. For a moment, he stared at the ruined canvas in stunned silence, his mouth hanging open in shock. But just as Henry thought his father-in-law might take responsibility for what had happened, Mr. Woods turned to him, his expression quickly shifting from shock to accusation.“This is your fault!” he spat, pointing his finger at Henry. “I told you to keep quiet and stand aside. If you hadn’t distracted me with your constant interference, this wouldn’t have happened!”Henry felt a flicker of anger. He had been doing exactly as he was told, standing silently, watching as his father-in-law waved that cane around with reckless abandon. But now, instead of admitting his own mistake, Mr. Woods was casting the blame on him. Henry opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say a word, the art gallery manager rushed over, his face a mixture of concern and
The Slumdog Billionaire 92. The Magical Ring
Chapter Ninety Two Henry barely had a chance to argue with the security guards who had gathered around him, their expressions tense and expectant, waiting for his confession. “Gentlemen, you have the wrong person!” Henry protested, trying to keep his voice calm but firm. “I didn’t destroy the painting. Mr. Woods was the one who—” One of the guards interrupted him, shaking his head. “Sir, we need you to cooperate. The gallery manager and several witnesses have stated that you were involved.” Henry’s frustration boiled over. But just as he was about to defend himself, his eyes drifted to the painting, now abandoned on the floor. His anger faded, replaced by an odd sense of wonder. There was something strangely captivating about the artwork, even with the fresh tear marring its beauty. Ignoring the murmurs of the guards, Henry crouched down, his hand reaching out as if on instinct. He gently lifted the edge of the canvas, examining the fine details up close. The brushstrokes were
The Slumdog Billionaire 93. 200,000$ Dollars
Chapter Ninety Three Henry felt the weight of the manager’s gaze, a piercing suspicion that seemed to linger on his every move. He clenched his fist around the ring, aware that any sudden gesture could draw unwanted attention to it. The last thing he needed was trouble, especially with the strange power he sensed radiating from the ring. Keeping his tone low and steady, he turned to the manager. “I’ll pay for the damages,” he said, a quiet conviction in his voice. The manager raised an eyebrow, sneering. “You? Pay?” He scoffed, crossing his arms as he took a step closer, looking Henry up and down with disdain. “You expect me to believe nobody like you, a beggar who can’t even earn his father-in-law’s respect, can afford to pay $250,000? Is this some kind of joke?” Henry forced himself to remain calm, suppressing the anger that threatened to boil over. The manager’s words stung, but he kept his focus on the ring. As it seemed to pulse on his finger as though reminding him to
The Slumdog Billionaire 94. Fake Billionaire Heir
Chapter Ninety Four Henry was knee-deep in soap suds, mopping the glossy marble floors of the gallery. The irony was sharp, but he held his head high, trying to ignore the stinging humiliation that clung to him like the scent of cleaning chemicals. The ring on his finger pulsed faintly, as though reminding him of its presence, of the strange pull it held over him. And then, almost without thought, he found himself standing in front of the torn artwork—the one that had ignited this chain of ridicule and disbelief. Without understanding why, Henry reached out, his fingers hovering over the torn canvas. He could feel the texture of the fabric beneath his fingertips, the brushstrokes and pigments alive under the lights. Then, in a trance-like state, he lifted the painting from the wall, his hands moving instinctively. He didn’t even realize he was moving toward the back storage room until he stood before shelves of painting supplies, reaching for brushes, paints, and an assort
The Slumdog Billionaire 95. The Boss Daughter Is Sexy
Chapter Ninety Five Henry barely noticed Léa’s scrutinizing gaze as she examined the restored painting. When she turned back to him, a flicker of intrigue lit her eyes, softened only slightly by the hint of a smile. "How did you know what to do?" she asked, her voice sharp but laced with genuine curiosity. “That technique—no one has used it in decades, and few have ever even heard of it. So, tell me, Mr. Knight, how did you do it?" Henry glanced down at his hands, still feeling the strange warmth from the ring. He opened his mouth, unsure how to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself. “Honestly… I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before. It felt like… instinct. Something just guided me.” Léa’s brows lifted, a skeptical smirk playing on her lips, but before she could question him further, her eyes sharpened as though she’d remembered something urgent. She placed her perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder, the pressure light but commanding. Her n
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176. Pregnant With Heir
Jasmine sat at the edge of the bathtub, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at the small white stick in her trembling hands. The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, the room spinning around her as she tried to make sense of the emotions coursing through her.The two faint pink lines stared back at her, undeniable and impossible to ignore.“Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.She set the test down carefully on the counter and pressed her hands to her face, her breathing shallow. The rush of emotions was overwhelming—fear, excitement, disbelief, and, above all, a deep uncertainty. This was not how she had imagined finding out. This was not how she had planned it.The sound of the front door opening and closing pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Henry was home.“Jasmine?” his deep, familiar voice called out from the hallway. “Are you upstairs?”She quickly grabbed the test and shoved it into the drawer beneath the si
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175. The Bastardized Heir
The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of candles casting flickering shadows across the room. Jasmine walked in cautiously, her breath catching at the sight before her. The space had been completely transformed. A trail of red rose petals led from the entrance, winding through the living room and up the stairs, each step illuminated by soft tea lights. The faint scent of jasmine and vanilla filled the air, mingling with the sound of a slow, sultry jazz melody playing in the background.Her heart raced as she followed the trail, her bare feet brushing against the soft petals. At the top of the stairs, the double doors to their bedroom were ajar, and golden light spilled through the crack. She pushed them open slowly, her eyes widening as she stepped inside.The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. More candles lined every surface, their light dancing against the silk-draped canopy of the bed. A bottle of champagne sat chilling on a nearby table, two crystal flutes waiting beside
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174. Passion
Jasmine stood in front of the large window of their penthouse, gazing out at the glittering city lights. The night was quiet, but her heart wasn’t. It raced with an unexplainable tension that had built over the evening. Her fingers traced the edge of the silk robe she wore, the fabric light against her skin, yet somehow carrying the weight of her anticipation.Behind her, she felt the faintest shift in the air—a presence. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Henry. She could feel him, his energy wrapping around her like an invisible tether. “I couldn’t find you in bed,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending a ripple down her spine. “Were you thinking about me?”Jasmine smiled, her reflection meeting his in the glass. “Always.”The sound of his bare feet on the hardwood floors was soft, yet every step he took made her pulse quicken. In moments, his arms wrapped around her waist, his chest pressing against her back. She let out a small gasp as his lips brushed against her shoulde
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173. The Passionate Son-in-law
Jasmine sat by the window, her legs curled beneath her as the late afternoon sun bathed her in its golden light. She gazed out at the city below, her heart still racing from the memories of the morning. Her fingers absently traced the edge of the glass, the coolness grounding her as her mind swirled with thoughts of Henry.She hadn’t known it could feel like this—so overwhelming, so consuming. Every touch, every kiss, had unraveled her, leaving her bare and vulnerable, but never more alive. Her chest rose and fell with a deep, steadying breath, but the longing that lingered in her heart was undeniable.The soft creak of the bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts. She turned, her eyes meeting Henry’s as he leaned against the frame, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. His dark eyes held a familiar intensity, one that sent a shiver racing through her body.“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, the kind of voice th
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172. Love Under the moonlight
Henry leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass of water in his hand as the cool liquid soothed his parched throat. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden rays across the marble surfaces. The house was silent, save for the faint hum of the city below, but his mind was far from calm. Thoughts of Jasmine—her soft laughter, the way her skin had glowed in the morning light—lingered like a heady fog.Jasmine appeared in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the soft light. She wore nothing but one of his oversized shirts, the fabric brushing just above her knees. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks still flushed from their earlier intimacy. The sight of her sent a wave of desire rushing through Henry’s veins, his breath catching as their eyes met.“You left me alone,” she said softly, her voice teasing but with an edge of vulnerability.Henry set the glass down, his gaze darkening as he took a step toward her. “I thought you were resting.”Her lips curved into a s
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171. Morning Heir Making
Henry stirred awake as the faint golden light of dawn streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The air was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the city waking below. His body was warm, wrapped in the comfort of the plush sheets and the softness of Jasmine nestled beside him.He turned his head slightly, his eyes landing on her serene face. Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she slept peacefully. Her hair cascaded over the pillow like silk, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest made his heart clench with a warmth he hadn’t felt in years.Henry couldn’t resist reaching out. His fingers brushed against her cheek, featherlight, and she stirred at the touch, her eyelids fluttering open. Her sleepy gaze met his, and a soft smile spread across her lips.“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.“Good morning,” Henry replied, his voice low, filled with affection. His hand moved to tuck a stray strand of hair
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171. My Darling Virgin Wife
The soft glow of the candles followed them as Henry scooped Jasmine into his arms. Her skin was still damp from the bath, warm and soft against his chest. She let out a quiet gasp, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips brushing lightly against his jaw."Henry," she whispered, her voice a mix of nervousness and anticipation.He paused, his dark eyes meeting hers. "Are you sure, Jasmine?" His voice was low, filled with both tenderness and restraint. "I don’t want to rush this if you’re not ready."Her cheeks flushed, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I’ve never been more ready for anything."The sincerity in her eyes made his chest tighten. With a soft nod, he carried her into the bedroom, the faint scent of lavender still lingering in the air. The golden light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow over the room, the shadows of the night dancing along the walls.Henry set her down gently on the edge of the bed, his movements careful, reverent. He knelt before her, his
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170. Sexy Shower Time
Henry staggered through the door of his penthouse, his body weighed down by exhaustion. The soft glow of the evening lights spilled through the windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. He loosened his tie, his every muscle aching from the relentless grind of the last few weeks. His mind was fogged with exhaustion, but he couldn’t help the flicker of pride at what he’d accomplished.“Henry?” Jasmine’s soft voice floated from the bedroom. The sound was like a balm to his frayed nerves.“I’m here,” he called back, his voice rough. He dropped his briefcase by the door and ran a hand through his disheveled hair.Jasmine appeared in the doorway, her figure bathed in the warm light of the room. She wore a silk robe that clung to her curves, her eyes filled with concern as she crossed the room toward him.“You look like you’ve been through a war,” she said, brushing her fingers over his jaw. Her touch was featherlight, but it sent a spark of warmth through him.“It feels like
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169. The prodigal son
Henry stormed out of the estate, his steps heavy and purposeful as the night air hit him like a slap to the face. The faint hum of the helicopters above was drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His grandfather’s words echoed in his head, their sharp edges cutting deep.“You’re not family,” Henry muttered to himself, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “I’m just another asset to him. Another chess piece.”The guards standing outside the gates straightened as Henry approached, their gazes wary. He shot them a glare so fierce that one of them visibly flinched.“Open the damn gate,” Henry snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.The guard hesitated for a fraction of a second before obeying. The gates creaked open, and Henry strode out without sparing them another glance. The crunch of gravel beneath his feet was a harsh reminder of the cold reality he was leaving behind.Anderson caught up to him, his pa
