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Fifty-Eight: In Matching Black
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2025-07-02 15:30:01Lillium Roosevelt
The car slowed down near the edge of a sleek, spotless stretch of tarmac. I sat up straighter as we turned the final corner, and my breath caught in my throat.There it was.Adam’s private jet.Not just a plane—a jet. Clean lines, silver finish, gleaming under the soft blush of the morning sun like a blade waiting to cut through the clouds. It didn’t look real. It looked like something out of a magazine. Something I had no business being this close to, let alone stepping into.James pulled the car to a gentle stop near the small glass-fronted terminal reserved for VIP flights. Without waiting, he got out and moved around the vehicle.I opened the door slowly, stepping out into the crisp breeze that carried the faint scent of jet fuel and sea air. The sound of a distant engine hummed, low and persistent, grounding the moment in a strange surrealism.James gestured to one of Adam’s men, already waiting b
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The Billionaire's Sunshine Eighty-Seven: The Boy in The River
Lillium RooseveltHours had passed since we left London behind, the hum of the jet’s engines becoming background noise to the steady rise and fall of Adam’s breathing beside me. We’d barely spoken.He sat there, shoulders squared but relaxed, pen in hand as he scanned over a neat stack of documents Chavez had passed him earlier. Every now and then, his thumb would drag idly across the edge of the paper, his gaze locked on the words as if they held the power to keep his thoughts in check.I knew better.This wasn’t about work. This was about distraction.I shifted slightly in my seat, my shoulder brushing his arm. Still, he didn’t look at me. It wasn’t avoidance—it was that deep kind of focus people slip into when they’re trying not to feel something.I couldn’t take it anymore.My voice was softer than I expected when I spoke, almost hesitant, as if I were stepping into a room I wasn’t sure I belonged in.“Aiden Scott Lew
The Billionaire's Sunshine Eighty-Six: Between Graves and Gates
Adam Lewiston London in the morning had a way of looking almost too perfect—washed in pale gold light, the kind that softened the edges of its sharp, old-world architecture. The car was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional click of Ms. Chavez’s nails against her tablet screen in the front seat. She was murmuring through emails to herself, scanning numbers and schedules for when we landed. James drove with the calm efficiency of a man who could navigate these streets blindfolded. Beside me, Lu sat quietly, his gaze fixed out the tinted window. His profile caught the morning light, the faint curve of his cheekbone, the softness of his mouth at rest. His hand was in mine—light at first, almost tentative—until I began tracing my thumb along his knuckles. He didn’t pull away. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been holding hands. Maybe since we left the estate. Maybe since before
The Billionaire's Sunshine Eighty-Five: The House Of Two Sons
Adam LewistonThe house was quiet in the way only large estates could be—hushed, cavernous, the kind of stillness that made you feel every footstep.I woke in the middle of the night without knowing why. No dreams, no sound to rouse me. Just a sudden awareness, a restlessness in my chest. The bed was warm, the room dim, the moonlight spilling pale through the curtains. Lu was asleep beside me, his breathing steady, the faint curve of his body facing my side of the bed.I sat there for a moment, watching him, before I swung my legs over the side and reached for the silk black robe hanging on the chair. The fabric whispered against my skin as I tied the belt, my bare feet carrying me to the door.The corridor was cold. I didn’t turn on the lights—just followed the faint glow from the sconces lining the hall until I reached the stairs. My intention was simple enough: the kitchen, a glass of something—milk, wine, maybe both—then back to bed.
The Billionaire's Sunshine Eighty-Four: Threaded Back To Life
Lillium RooseveltThe scent of antiseptic still clung to Adam like it refused to let go, as if even the sterile world didn’t want to release him too soon. He was sitting upright now, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, his fingers toying with the edge of his IV bandage as the doctor went over the discharge instructions.“Vitals are steady,” the doctor said, flipping the chart once more before signing something at the bottom. “CT and MRI scans are clean. No concussion, no internal bleeding, no broken bones. Just a bruised rib and stitches to the forehead. You’ll feel the soreness for a while—maybe a week or two—but that’s about it.”Adam just nodded, quiet.I stood near the wall, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat, watching him. He looked okay. Calm. Collected. Like the man I knew him to be. But there was something beneath the calmness—something I’d seen ever since they pulled him from that wreck.A shadow.Not fear
The Billionaire's Sunshine Eighty-Three: More Alive Than Ever
Adam LewistonThe world was dark.Heavy.Soundless.And for a moment..maybe longer. I didn’t know if I was alive or somewhere in the unthinking void between life and nothing.I couldn’t move. Couldn’t see. The weight on my chest wasn’t just the harness, it was something deeper—like gravity had turned to stone.Then there's a voice.Soft. Barely there.“Adam.” It echoed, not in my ears, but in my head. In the marrow of me.“Adam, please.” It was shaking. Breathless. Familiar in the way that breaks you before it builds you.Lu.God, Lu.His voice came again. Louder this time. More real. “Adam, don’t you dare—I swear to God, don’t you—”My breath snapped back into my lungs like a punch. A dry gasp tore out of my throat as a new noise erupted around me—distant shouting, the hiss of steam, the static of a radio. Something beeped. Metal groaned.I blinked.
The Billionaire's Sunshine Eighty-Two: When The King Fell
Lillium RooseveltThe door shut behind us with a soft click, sealing in a cocoon of glass, warmth, and muted tension. James’s footsteps were quiet against the carpet, but mine echoed in my chest—heavy, unsure. The VIP lounge was sleek and quiet, outfitted with tall windows that offered a panoramic view of the drift track below. The whole circuit was bathed in sharp lights and shadowy curves, the smell of fuel barely muted by the thick walls. Beyond the glass, Adam's world roared to life.And he was somewhere down there in it.I walked straight to the window, drawn like a magnet. My hands pressed lightly against the cold pane as my eyes scanned the pits, the idle cars, the winding snake of asphalt wrapped in floodlights. I looked for black. For movement. For him.But I couldn’t see him yet.The pressure in my chest didn’t budge.“He’s fine,” a voice said beside me—calm, firm, lightly amused. “Adam knows what he’s doing.”I turned my head just enough to see Christopher standing there, h
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