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Chapter fifty one
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2025-12-23 02:53:36
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The Billionaire’s Lost Heiress Chapter fifty two
The manhunt for Richard Robert makes headlines for a week straight. FBI. Interpol. Frozen assets. Raids on his offices, his homes, his mistresses’ apartments. His face,sharp, silver-haired, that practiced smile—stares out from every screen, labeled “Armed and Dangerous: Wanted for Corporate Espionage, Conspiracy to Commit Murder.” But he’s smoke. No sightings. No credit card pings. No jet trails. Just silence that feels like a held breath. Alex and I stay in the safe house another five days, jumping at every car backfire, every shadow past the window. He paces like a caged animal, gun always within reach, eyes bloodshot from watching security feeds. I pretend to sleep, but mostly I lie awake listening to his breathing, feeling the weight of the ring on my finger like an anchor and a target at once. On the sixth morning, I make the decision. “I’m going back to campus.” Alex freezes mid-coffee pour,No, not with everything going on. “Yes.” My voice is steadier than I feel. Final
The Billionaire’s Lost Heiress Chapter fifty one
Midnight hits like a hammer. Alex kills the engine two blocks from Pier 17, coasts the last stretch in silence. The warehouse looms at the end of the dock—rusted metal, broken windows, the kind of place where things disappear. Salt air burns his lungs as he steps out, gun tucked in his waistband, phone in his pocket set to record audio, streamed live to the PI’s secure server. Backup is ten minutes out his old friend and two ex-military guys who don’t ask questions for the right price. Ten minutes might be too long. He walks into the open bay door like he’s walking to his own execution. Inside, the space is cavernous, lit by a single hanging bulb swinging slow. Shipping containers stack like walls. The air smells of oil and rot and fear. Clara is there. She’s tied to a metal chair in the center, hood gone now, hair tangled, face pale but eyes fierce. Duct tape over her mouth. A bruise blooming on her cheek. When she sees him, her eyes widen relief and terror at once. She sh
The Billionaire’s Lost Heiress Chapter fifty
Three days after the hospital discharge, life feels almost normal. Almost.Alex and I hole up in his penthouse like newlyweds on a honeymoon no one knows about. We order takeout, make love on every surface, think over the PI’s latest files until our eyes burn. The silver ring on my finger has been replaced with a real one,a simple platinum band he slid on in the hospital parking lot, whispering promises against my lips. We haven’t told anyone yet. Not Kacey. Not even Adrian, whose last text sits unanswered in my phone: Hope you’re okay. I’m here if you need anything.I feel guilty every time I see it, but guilt is a luxury I can’t afford right now.Richard is back in the city. We know because the anonymous threats stopped the moment his private jet landed. That silence is worse than the messages. It means he’s planning something quieter. Sharper.On the fourth morning, my phone buzzes with a number I deleted weeks ago.Bella.I almost let it go to voicemail. Alex is in the shower; I
The Billionaire’s Lost Heiress chapter forty nine
The hospital smells like bleach and bad coffee. I’m curled in a plastic chair in the hallway outside Alex’s room, blanket around my shoulders, the makeshift silver ring twisted around my finger like a talisman. He’s inside getting a final check stitches clean, no concussion, just bruises blooming purple across his ribs. I keep replaying the moment he ripped the car door open, the way his blood hit the concrete while he fought for me. My fiancé. The word still feels surreal, soft and sharp at once. Footsteps echo down the corridor, quick and familiar. I look up and there’s Bella. She’s dressed like she actually cares—soft sweater, hair in a messy bun, eyes wide with what looks like worry. A small bouquet of grocery-store roses trembles in her hands. “Clara,” she breathes, rushing over. Oh my God, I heard what happened. Are you okay? I stiffen. The last time we spoke, she was smiling that poison smile while sending me photos of Alex’s hand up her skirt. I don’t trust this version
The Billionaire’s Lost Heiress Chapter forty Eight
The morning starts ordinary, almost gentle. I wake tangled in Alex’s sheets, his arm heavy across my waist, city sunlight striping the bed. For the first time in months, I don’t jolt awake from nightmares. I just lie there listening to his steady breathing, feeling the warmth of him against my back, and let myself believe we might actually survive this.We make slow, lazy love no rush, no desperation, just the quiet certainty of two people who finally know they belong to each other without any curse hanging over them. He kisses every bruise Bella’s rumors left on my heart, murmurs my name like it’s sacred. Afterward he makes coffee while I steal one of his shirts, and we drink it on the balcony, shoulders touching, planning how we’ll confront Richard when he gets back from New York tomorrow, and going to the US attorneys office to give put the recording we acquired the the previous day.I leave for campus around noon, promising to text when my last class ends. He watches me go with
The Billionaire’s Lost Heiress chapter forty-seven
The hotel suite smells like stale coffee and fear. We’re on the twenty-third floor of some anonymous downtown tower, curtains drawn tight against the city lights. The PI man mr Harlan, mid-fifties, ex-cop with tired eyes and a voice like gravel has turned the dining table into a war room: laptops open, files spread, a digital recorder spinning slowly in the center. Alex paces behind the sofa like a caged animal. I sit on the edge of an armchair, knees pressed together, hands twisted in my lap. And across from me, on the edge of the bed, is my mother. Eleanor Langford sorry i meant Eleanor Robert,looks smaller than I remember from that disastrous dinner months ago. Her hair is pulled back severely, face bare of makeup, eyes red-rimmed. She’s wearing a simple gray sweater that swallows her body When our gazes meet, she flinches like I’ve struck her. The silence stretches until it hurts. Harlan clears his throat. “We’re recording this for the file. Everything said in this room stay
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