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Chapter Nineteen: Terms of War
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2025-07-08 05:47:47
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I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Nineteen: Terms of War
I sat across from both of them, the only one not pretending everything was fine.A small coffee table separated us. Me on one side, Lucian and Sienna side by side on the other, like a well-matched royal couple negotiating peace terms with a peasant.The contract felt thick in my hand. Too thick for what it was. My eyes skimmed the pages, one after the other. Medical terms. Legal threats. Obligations I never signed up for. It read more like a leash than a job offer.Sienna sat with her legs tucked under her like we were having a cute tea party. Her silk robe matched the soft pink blush on her cheeks. She kept stealing glances at Lucian like he was the sun and she was a dying flower trying to soak up whatever warmth she could get.And Lucian, the ever-glorious husband, actually looked human for once. His cold mask was off, replaced with something calm, sweet, and gentle. His eyes didn’t have their usual frostbite in them. They were warm. Devoted. Fixed on her like the world didn’t exist
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Eighteen: The Weight We Both Carry
I hadn’t planned to see her.In all honesty, I was still trying to figure out if all this was worth staying in this madhouse. But between the sudden rise in bodyguards at every hallway corner and the brand-new cameras blinking from the ceiling like I was some criminal out on parole, it was clear Lucian wasn’t bluffing.The man really thought I’d run off. I mean, I would, if his paranoid ass hadn’t turned the place into a damn prison.He must’ve tripled security just because I dared to say I’d walk. What a dramatic waste of money. If paranoia was a person, it’d be Lucian Montgomery in a custom suit and moral constipation.I was half-expecting someone to pat me down before I stepped into the east wing. They didn’t, but they did stare at me like I had explosives tucked under my hoodie.Sienna’s room smelled faintly of lemon disinfectant and vanilla candles. The curtains were half drawn, sunlight filtering in soft lines across the bed. She sat alone in the middle of her room, brush in han
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Seventeen: Under His Roof
Sienna finally woke up after two days. Her vitals were stable, but the doctors put her on strict bed rest. I made sure to stay locked in my room, watching the luggage I’d left out, heart pounding with each suitcase throw. I couldn’t stay here under their terms. Not when they’d manipulated me, gambled with my worth, treated me like I was replaceable… a damn womb for hire.Sienna had come up to my room more than once, even when her maids begged her to go back and rest. But she refused. She knocked on my door almost every day, hoping I’d talk to her… hoping I’d give in. But I never did. I wasn’t willing to. Not after everything. I wasn’t about to give her that leverage.Instead of playing nurse or peacemaker, I spent the last hour packing. Packing the essentials into my bag. Laptop, leftover cash, ID, phone charger, a hoodie, and whatever dignity I still had left. If they thought I was going to sit around and keep being everyone’s emotional punching bag, they had another thing coming.
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Sixteen: Guilt and Gall
Lucian was right, I needed to do something. Right now !!“Someone get my black medical kit!” I barked. “It’s in the drawer by the window in my room. Run!”One of the maids sprinted without a word. My training had kicked in and every ounce of panic got locked away in a mental box I’d open later.I dropped to my knees beside Sienna just as Lucian tried to adjust her, but he was fumbling like someone trying to solve a puzzle blindfolded.“Pin her down!” I ordered.He looked at me, stunned. “What?”“Hold. Her. Down,” I snapped, already pulling her hair away from her face.“She’s seizing. She could hit her head, choke, or break something. I need her steady.”Lucian hesitated for half a second, but he swallowed whatever pride or arrogance he had obeyed my orders immediately, gripping Sienna’s shoulders roughly.“Not like that, gently,” I corrected, guiding his hand. “We’re stopping her from hurting herself, not suffocating her.”Her arms flailed again, eyes rolled back, mouth gaping o
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter fifteen: Beyond repairs
I stared at Sienna for what felt like an eternity. My brain slowly connected the dots, lit this fuse preparing for impact.My nerves came crashing as I stood up, my chair screeching against the polished floor. The noise alone should’ve shattered the ridiculous fantasy world she was living in.“You’ve lost your damn mind.”Her face didn’t flinch, but her fingers tightened around the edge of her teacup.“Scarlett—”“No, don’t Scarlett me right now,” I snapped.“What the hell is wrong with you? Why?! Why would you even think this is okay? Why would you want this?”Her voice was softer this time.“Because I don’t have much time.”Those words tugged the guilt sitting in my chest. This wasn’t fair. This was emotional blackmail.“I’m dying, Scarlett,” she said.“You know that. And… my body can’t carry a child. Not anymore. Not after…”She hesitated, gaze dropping to the table.“I’ve had miscarriages, Scarlett.”My breath hitched.“How many?” I asked before I could stop myself.She looked
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter fourteen: No One Asked Me
Sleep? What was that again? I don't remember falling asleep but I'm sure it wasn't more than four hours of it. I had spent the night going through that stupid contract at least fifty times. Back and forth, page by page, clause by clause, try to find any hidden camera or a part where it suddenly burst into flames and revealed itself that this was one cruel horrible prank. A mistake. A game. But sadly, no such luck. It was all very, very real. Everything spelled out in those neat, expensive fonts and benefits that seemed too good to be true made me want to scream. A fully furnished house somewhere secluded once the baby was born. Every debt I ever had…student loans, credit cards, the loan sharks that I owe, all of it was going to be taken care of. A state-of-the-art hospital facility under my name the moment I signed. And a fifteen billion dollar payout by the time I delivered. Fifteen. Freaking. Billion. Not millions. Not “here’s a check, go start a juice bar.” Billio
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