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The Billionaire's Bargain 65.
PENELOPEThe sliding doors flew open before I could stop them. The hospital’s lighting hit me like a slap, and my heart was racing so fast it felt like it was trying to outrun time itself.“Hilton,” I said breathlessly to the nurse at the front desk. “Christian Hilton. He was brought in—stab wound—”“He’s in surgery,” she replied gently. “They’re stabilizing him. You can wait down the hall—right side. There’s a lounge.”Surgery.I nodded and turned down the hallway, ignoring the sterile smell of antiseptic that filled the air. I hated hospitals so much, my mum had been to the most expensive of hospitals and yet there was nothing anyone could do to save her.Liam stood when he saw me, his suit jacket was wrinkled, and his hair a mess. He didn’t say anything at first. He just held out his arms.I rushed into them, hugging him. “He’s not dead,” Liam murmured into my hair. “Don’t think like that. They said he lost a lot of blood, but we brought him just in time.”I pulled back, wiping my
The Billionaire's Bargain 64.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR — PENELOPEMy phone kept vibrating violently against the nightstand, yanking me out of sleep like a slap. The room was dark. The digital clock read 3:42 a.m. I reached for it, blinking against the glow, and saw Liam Anderson on the screen.Liam? At this hour?.“Hello?” My voice was groggy, caught between dream and dread. This call better damn be important because I was this close to having an orgasm in my sleep.Yes, I miss him so much to have a dream about him.“Penelope,” Liam’s voice came sharp, and fast. “It’s Christian.”Whatever sleep that was left in my eyes vanished. “What happened?” I stuttered.“He’s been stabbed. It’s bad.” My chest tightened so fast it felt like my ribs were caving in. I sat there frozen for a second, my phone still pressed to my ear, but my legs felt numb. My brain was scrambling, trying to visualize him hurt, alone, maybe dying, and failing. It was too much.“Where is he?” I asked, already flinging the duvet off my body. My hands had
The Billionaire's Bargain 63.
CHRISTIANThe warehouse smelled like blood and cheap cigars. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing faintly above the sounds of fists meeting flesh. Somewhere behind me, a man was crying. Or gagging. Or both. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t bother looking.Liam stood to my right, watching like this was cable entertainment. Ryuji leaned against a steel pole, his arms folded, looking like a man enjoying his own twisted opera.His son — the second one, not the dead one — was crouched near the guy they were working on. Young. Brash. What was his name again? Renji.Still had too much to prove. The man on the floor writhed as someone poured salt into his wounds — literally, not metaphorically. Japanese discipline.I kept my distance. I never got my hands dirty. That’s what Liam was for.My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw her name on the screen: Penelope.Just a message. No call. I stared at it. Thought about opening it. About reading whatever it was she had to say. Bu
The Billionaire's Bargain 62.
PENELOPEHe left again.Not a word. Not even a goodbye. Just… vanished—like a magician with a grudge and a private jet.By the time I got to the bakery, the sun had barely set across the pavement and Maya was already inside, blasting music and loading trays into the oven like her life depended on it. The girl had too much energy for that hour of the morning. I envied it. Somewhere along the line, my own spark had dulled a little. Or maybe it was just buried under layers of emotional debris and a husband who disappeared like mist.“You’re early,” I had greeted Maya with a tired smile.“Couldn’t sleep,” Maya chirped. “So I figured I’d rise with the dough.”I gave a half-laugh, tucking a stray curl behind my ear as I washed my hands and slipped into my apron. I stared at the oven timer blinking back at me like it was judging my life choices. Four minutes left on the cranberry scones and still no sign of a message from Christian. Not that I was staring at my phone like a lunatic waiting
The Billionaire's Bargain 61.
CHRISTIANThe scent of espresso lingered faintly in the air, but the bitterness on my tongue had nothing to do with coffee. It was barely past noon when Edward strolled into Hilton Tech like he still owned it. Technically, he owned it like five percent. But today, I wasn’t in the mood to play heir and dutiful son.My father wore power like cologne—woodsy, aged, and suffocating. The faint scent of cigars clung to his tailored jacket as he stepped into my office, uninvited as always.“Christian, Amanda said you were free,” he said casually, like he was asking about the weather. Like he hadn’t dropped a bomb on my life just nights ago.“I was,” I replied, not looking up from my laptop. “Emphasis on was, you don’t have a meeting scheduled.”“I didn’t come for business.”“Then you shouldn’t have come here at all.”“You haven’t returned my calls,” he said, as if that was surprising.“Didn’t think we had anything to talk about.”“We do,” Edward said, stepping further in. “About Alex. You wer
The Billionaire's Bargain 60.
PENELOPEIt was 4:07 a.m. when the first truck pulled up.The street outside the bakery was wrapped in darkness, save for the amber streetlamps casting long shadows across the street.Headlights swept across the asphalt, catching the shine of my lavender sports car parked just out front, as two delivery trucks rumbled to a stop in front of our shop. For a moment, none of us moved—just stared, wide-eyed, flour-smudged, coffee-fueled and sleepless.Jess was the first to bolt for the door. Maya right behind her. I followed, my heart was beating faster against my ribs as if the adrenaline finally remembered it had a job to do.The delivery men hopped out of the cab, very unfazed by the hour. “Hilton Logistics,” one of them called. “We’ve got two truckloads for a ‘Mrs. Hilton’? Hope you’ve got space, ma’am.”I blinked. “You’ve got… two?”“Actually,” the second one grinned, “two and a half. Boss said pack extra. Said you’d figure out what to do with the rest.”He opened the trucks, and my k
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