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Chapter 18: Smoke and Mirrors
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2025-06-14 03:30:33The bar was tucked into the edge of Montmartre, dimly lit with jazz curling out of its walls like smoke. Liam hadn’t meant to come here, not really. He’d walked for an hour trying to clear his head, ending up in front of a place that looked like something out of a forgotten memory. Inside, it smelled like aged wood and expensive regret.
And there she was.Isabelle. Like a ghost who hadn’t gotten the memo that she was dead to him.She sat at the end of the bar in a satin-black dress, her legs crossed, her martini untouched. Her lips curved in that familiar, venom-laced smile."I was starting to think you'd ignore me," she said, voice like velvet wrapped around a dagger.Liam didn’t sit. "What are you doing here?""You think Paris belongs to you alone? Relax. I’m in town for a shoot. Saw your name on a reservation list at Le Vieux Lion. I took a gamble."He looked like he wanted to leave, but something in her eyes stopped
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Liam knew where Isabelle would be before she even posted. The rooftop bar on Madison, same place she used to drag him for photo ops and paparazzi traps. He walked in with a coat thrown over his arm and war behind his eyes.She was already there—sunglasses on indoors, drink in hand, phone tilted just enough to catch the skyline behind her. Always a performance.“You came,” she said without looking up.“You lied,” he replied, pulling out the chair opposite hers.Isabelle shrugged. “I never said I was pregnant.”“You implied it.”“I said I still had the test. I never said it was positive.”Liam clenched his jaw. “This isn’t a game. Amara’s not some tabloid rivalry you can use for press.”Her lips curled. “I didn’t post anything about Amara. That’s you projecting. Or maybe you’re just afraid people will assume the worst because it’s partially true.”He leaned in. “You showed up to my room uninvited, kissed
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 22: Between the Lies
The evening rain in Paris fell soft as breath, but inside Amara’s chest, the storm never let up. She lay on the couch, wrapped in a fleece blanket, her phone facedown on the coffee table beside her. The screen was dark. She hadn’t checked it in hours.Her body was slowly recovering, but her mind wouldn’t stop racing. The silence between her and Liam stretched longer each day, but it wasn’t just about distance or betrayal anymore. It was about truth—the absence of it, the distortion of it.Tessa had texted earlier: Isabelle's name is circling again. Something’s coming.Amara hadn’t asked for details. She didn’t want to chase shadows.Not yet.But deep inside, she felt the ripple of something brewing—something that didn’t sit right. Isabelle’s cryptic story. The timing. The ease with which everything had crumbled.A knock broke through her thoughts. Nathaniel.“I brought lemon cake,” he said, holding up a box like a peace
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 21: Shadows in the Frame
NarrationThe morning after Isabelle’s cryptic post, the rumor mill churned like a beast fed by fire. Blogs, gossip sites, and fringe tabloids latched onto the idea like bloodhounds. The words “Blackwood,” “baby,” and “betrayal” appeared together far too often for Liam’s liking.And Amara?Still silent.Still gone.Still watching… maybe.Liam wasn’t sure if she was even reading the news. He both hoped and feared she was.---Amara’s POVAmara stood in a small art supply store tucked away near Rue Montorgueil. She wasn’t there for inspiration. She was there for control.New pencils. Smooth sketch paper. A brush pen.Something new to start over.The shopkeeper didn’t recognize her—thank God. For once, she could just be a woman in a coat, hair pulled into a messy bun, trying to remember how to breathe.But as she approached the register, her phone buzzed.Tessa.
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 20: The Quiet Fallout
The cold silence that followed Amara’s departure was not something Liam had prepared for. Her absence was a vacuum, pulling all the color out of his days. She hadn’t blocked him—that would have been an action. This was worse. No response. No read receipts. No acknowledgment. Just nothing.He stared at his last message: "I'm sorry. Please talk to me." It had been three days.Nathaniel had been watching Liam unravel in slow motion. He tossed a manila folder onto the coffee table in Liam’s penthouse. “You need to talk. Because she sure as hell isn’t.”Liam barely glanced up. “You talked to her?”“Tessa did. Amara’s not speaking to anyone, really. Said she needed space. You need to start explaining, or I’m filling in blanks myself.”Liam raked a hand through his hair. “It didn’t mean anything.”“God, don’t say that. Not to me. What happened?”He sighed. “It was a mistake. She came to the hotel. She kissed me. I was… weak. Confused. I stopped it. But not before Amara saw.”Nathaniel shook
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 19: What Breaks Beneath
Paris, again.The sun filtered through the tall windows of Amara’s apartment, but she hadn’t noticed the light all morning. The news of Liam’s near slip with his ex had reached her like a slap in a silent room. Not from him. From Monroe, of all people—whose inbox, apparently, was still full of Blackwood gossip and whose lips were always poised for a scoop."They were at the Ritz," Monroe had said casually, like she was talking about a business meeting. "Two drinks in, and apparently, her hands were not where they should have been."Amara said nothing. But she hadn’t smiled since.Nathaniel sat across from her now, watching her pick at toast."You okay?"She didn't look up. "Would you be?"He exhaled, leaned back. "I told him this would happen. That people would test him.""It wasn't a test. It was a choice."She pushed the plate away. The tea beside her had gone cold, untouched."What did he sa
Bound to the Billionaire’s Baby Chapter 18: Smoke and Mirrors
The bar was tucked into the edge of Montmartre, dimly lit with jazz curling out of its walls like smoke. Liam hadn’t meant to come here, not really. He’d walked for an hour trying to clear his head, ending up in front of a place that looked like something out of a forgotten memory. Inside, it smelled like aged wood and expensive regret.And there she was.Isabelle. Like a ghost who hadn’t gotten the memo that she was dead to him.She sat at the end of the bar in a satin-black dress, her legs crossed, her martini untouched. Her lips curved in that familiar, venom-laced smile."I was starting to think you'd ignore me," she said, voice like velvet wrapped around a dagger.Liam didn’t sit. "What are you doing here?""You think Paris belongs to you alone? Relax. I’m in town for a shoot. Saw your name on a reservation list at Le Vieux Lion. I took a gamble."He looked like he wanted to leave, but something in her eyes stopped
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