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Chapter 47: Gabrielle's Confession
Last Updated:
2025-05-06 18:58:20
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Belle's breath stopped in her throat as she and Gabrielle raced to conceal the documents in Alistair's study. With every second stretching like an eternity and the sound of footsteps growing louder, closer, her heart raced in her chest. Gabrielle looked towards the door and froze, her hand resting above the drawer. In the stillness, the familiar creak of the study door reverberated. Overwhelming in presence, Alistair entered and his keen eyes swept the room. His eyes danced between them, pausing for a minute too long. You two are doing what in here? Belle's spine tingled at his low, menacing voice. Belle automatically sat up, her heart racing. Avoiding his gaze, her thoughts raced to create a justification that would not arouse doubt. She knew how observant Alistair was; he noticed every detail and saw everything. Gabrielle responded hurriedly, her tone strained as she moved in front of Belle, obstructing Alistair's view of the desk, "We were just, just talking." There is nothing
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Theodore sat on the soft grass of the mansion's lawn, his small hands gripping a ball as he casually tossed it in the air. Golden light from the sun covered the vast estate, and birds chirping made for a perfect setting. But something seemed wrong. A peculiar chill hung in the air, causing him to look anxiously over his shoulder. The front gate opened with a creak; the noise rather acute in the quiet. Stepping through the gate, two men in dark suits created an imposing, deliberate presence. Though it was Theodore's naive interest that drew their notice first, they moved in perfect unison, their eyes searching the area. He grimaced, a quick anxiety filling his chest. Standing up, he let the ball fall and his tiny hands shook a little. One of the guys saw him right away; their gazes met for a brief minute before the man smiled tightly and uncomfortably. The man murmured, his voice icy yet gently sweet with an eerie serenity, "Come with us, Theo." Theodore stepped back, his heart rac
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Belle paced around the room, her hands quivering as she looked at the light screen in front of her. Alistair stood next to her, his attitude calm, calculating. Now in his command centre, surrounded by a web of high-tech devices, they felt far from the safety Belle had once known. The stakes were higher than ever before. Belle responded, her voice calm but laced with genuine anger, "I don't trust you, Alistair." "But I'll do anything to bring him back", Though her gaze stayed glued to the television, she sensed the burden of her words drop between them. Alistair remained unflinching. As the data came in, indicating their son's last known whereabouts, his eyes stayed glued to the screen. Belle, we're in this together, he replied gently. More than anything, Theodore's life counts. Though his voice was chilly, there was unmistakable tenacity in it. Though she wanted to despise him in that time, she could not refute the veracity of his statements. He was correct; they had to cooperate.
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A sliver of golden light cut through the sheer drapes, tracing a thin path over the silk sheets. The scent of expensive cologne and last night’s champagne lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something forbidden. The world outside this penthouse was already awake cars honking, heels clicking against polished pavement but inside this gilded cage, time stood still.Belle Madrigal stirred, the cool satin against her bare skin a sharp contrast to the fevered heat of last night. Her mind felt thick, sluggish, as if swimming through the remnants of a dream. Then reality struck.She wasn’t in her own bed.Her lashes fluttered open, and the sight before her stole the breath from her lungs.A man stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, his movements precise, unhurried like a king preparing for war. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his frame exuding raw power even in the simplest of gestures. Tousled dark hair framed a face so str
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It was as chaotic within Belle Madrigal's heart as the storm outside. Fat drips raced down the glass of her tiny flat like tears she would not shed as the rain dashed against the windows. Long shadows were created by the bedside lamp's dull glow, which highlighted the bag that was lying open on the bed and partially full with the clothes she had stuffed inside just moments before. Her heartbeat sounded like thunder in her ears as she zipped up a black duffel bag, her hands shaking. She was unable to stay. No more. She had been wiped out by Alistair Kensington. As if she were inconsequential. She had been reliving the moment she called his office for days, how Gabrielle's icy tone had cut the thin thread that still held them together. No interaction. No recognition. Love, not from a man like him, was not what she had anticipated. However, she also hadn't anticipated being thrown out. The travel ticket on the nightstand was touched by her fingers. A flight to Seattle, one way. It
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A sliver of cold light sliced through the darkness.Belle stirred, her body a battlefield of pain.Her limbs were leaden, her ribs screaming in protest at the mere attempt to move. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through her skull, the sensation sharp and unforgiving. The sterile bite of hospital air filled her lungs, mingling with the distant beeping of machines that counted out the fragile rhythm of her existence.She was alive.The realization should have brought relief.Instead, dread coiled in her stomach like a snake, tightening its grip.Something was wrong.The sheets beneath her were crisp, the mattress too firm, the walls around her a clinical shade of white, too pristine, too controlled.This wasn’t her apartment.It wasn’t even the cheap motel where she’d planned to disappear, where she could vanish into the background of the world and never be found.No.This place was a cage.Belle forced her eyelids open, blinking against the oppressive fluorescence overhead. The room wav
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The silence was the first thing Belle noticed. Not the quiet sort. The sort that crushed against her ribcage, making breathing difficult, the kind that was oppressive and deliberate. Her body was weak and aching from the crash's aftermath, and she struggled to open her heavy eyes. As though her brain was still attempting to reconstruct the shattered moments before everything had turned dark, a steady throbbing settled behind her skull. After forcing herself to stand, she became aware that something was off. The white, sterile walls. The luxurious linens that seemed too costly for a public medical facility. The gentle buzz of machinery, keeping an eye on her every move. She felt a knot in her stomach. Belle wasn't by herself. Near the window, a woman in a grey suit sat with a tablet on her lap. Her small lips were squeezed into a hard line, and her blond hair was twisted back into a tight bun, Not a nurse. Not a medical professional,A handler,Belle's pulse quickened. She d
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The mansion loomed before her, an iron fortress disguised as luxury.Belle stood at the threshold, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of her choices pressing against her chest.She had signed the contract.She had sealed her fate.Now, she was here.Alistair had said nothing on the drive back. Not a word.And she had been too exhausted to fight the silence.The butler, an older man with a face carved by time and discipline, stepped aside, ushering her into a world she didn’t belong to.Belle stepped forward, her shoes sinking into the plush marble floors. Chandeliers glowed above her, casting golden light against the towering bookshelves, the grand staircase, the portraits of Kensington ancestors who had ruled before Alistair.She didn’t belong here.She never would.Alistair strode ahead without looking back. “You’ll stay in the east wing.”Belle swallowed hard. “And you?”He paused at the foot of the stairs. Then,
Last Updated : 2025-02-25
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Belle paced around the room, her hands quivering as she looked at the light screen in front of her. Alistair stood next to her, his attitude calm, calculating. Now in his command centre, surrounded by a web of high-tech devices, they felt far from the safety Belle had once known. The stakes were higher than ever before. Belle responded, her voice calm but laced with genuine anger, "I don't trust you, Alistair." "But I'll do anything to bring him back", Though her gaze stayed glued to the television, she sensed the burden of her words drop between them. Alistair remained unflinching. As the data came in, indicating their son's last known whereabouts, his eyes stayed glued to the screen. Belle, we're in this together, he replied gently. More than anything, Theodore's life counts. Though his voice was chilly, there was unmistakable tenacity in it. Though she wanted to despise him in that time, she could not refute the veracity of his statements. He was correct; they had to cooperate.
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Theodore sat on the soft grass of the mansion's lawn, his small hands gripping a ball as he casually tossed it in the air. Golden light from the sun covered the vast estate, and birds chirping made for a perfect setting. But something seemed wrong. A peculiar chill hung in the air, causing him to look anxiously over his shoulder. The front gate opened with a creak; the noise rather acute in the quiet. Stepping through the gate, two men in dark suits created an imposing, deliberate presence. Though it was Theodore's naive interest that drew their notice first, they moved in perfect unison, their eyes searching the area. He grimaced, a quick anxiety filling his chest. Standing up, he let the ball fall and his tiny hands shook a little. One of the guys saw him right away; their gazes met for a brief minute before the man smiled tightly and uncomfortably. The man murmured, his voice icy yet gently sweet with an eerie serenity, "Come with us, Theo." Theodore stepped back, his heart rac
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Belle's breath stopped in her throat as she and Gabrielle raced to conceal the documents in Alistair's study. With every second stretching like an eternity and the sound of footsteps growing louder, closer, her heart raced in her chest. Gabrielle looked towards the door and froze, her hand resting above the drawer. In the stillness, the familiar creak of the study door reverberated. Overwhelming in presence, Alistair entered and his keen eyes swept the room. His eyes danced between them, pausing for a minute too long. You two are doing what in here? Belle's spine tingled at his low, menacing voice. Belle automatically sat up, her heart racing. Avoiding his gaze, her thoughts raced to create a justification that would not arouse doubt. She knew how observant Alistair was; he noticed every detail and saw everything. Gabrielle responded hurriedly, her tone strained as she moved in front of Belle, obstructing Alistair's view of the desk, "We were just, just talking." There is nothing
Claiming the billionaire ceo genius baby Chapter 47: Gabrielle's Confession
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The phone buzzed loudly in the quiet office. Alistair's attention was only on the papers in front of him; he did not look up. Impatient with the gradual advancement of his plans, he fingers drummed the desk. The phone's abrupt vibration, however, broke his thoughts. He snatched it up to find an unknown number flashing across the screen. "Alistair Kensington," he replied, his voice professional, used to the gravity of every word he uttered. Familiar but urgent, the voice on the other end. Rook here. We have to speak. Right now. Rook A former acquaintance of Alistair's who was aware of the most sinister aspects of his father's activities as well as the most sinister aspects of his own life. He felt a pang of anxiety. "Alistair, he's back," Rook said, his voice clearly weighted. The old foe of your father. The one who vanished years ago. He has come back. And he's targeting your empire. A frigid shiver went down Alistair's back. "Who?" I can't yet name you, but you must prepare. Al
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"Should I open it?" he whispered to himself, nearly as if seeking permission. Staring back at him from the tablet's screen, his reflection showed eyes wide with the burden of his own choices. He tapped the first file without allowing himself another opportunity to reconsider. A screen for passwords showed up. Theodore looked over his shoulder and leaned back in his chair to make sure no one was around. He had to be cautious as he had no idea what sort of havoc he was about to cause. Typing in a few possibilities, names, dates, the keys on the screen felt alien under his touch. Then, on a hunch, he attempted his mother's birthday. The file opened and the screen flickered. Cold, clinical, a thorough study of the Kensington family's financial activities, a list of assets and holdings, the paper's contents were One aspect, however, drew his notice: his own birth. The day. The frigid, distant tongue. "Theodore Kensington," the paper started, "born under dubious conditions. Unfortunate
