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Chapter Eight: The Mother's Wrath
Last Updated:
2025-10-03 15:49:27
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The billionaire who couldn't steal my heart CHAPTER 47: WHEN THE SHADOW REACHES YOU
ANNABELLE POVFear has a sound.I never knew that before today.It’s not a scream. Not footsteps in the dark. Not even the slam of a door.It’s silence—the kind that presses against your skin and makes every nerve stand on edge.I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, fully dressed even though it’s past midnight, staring at the door like it might suddenly open on its own. Sofia is asleep on the couch or at least pretending to be. I can hear her shifting every few minutes, restless just like me.The house feels too big tonight.Too quiet.Ronan’s words replay in my head over and over.Victoria doesn’t retreat. She strikes.I hug my knees to my chest, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. That’s what my therapist once told me years ago when anxiety from my mother’s illness tried to swallow me whole.But this fear is different.This isn’t imagined.This is earned.My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart pounds violen
The billionaire who couldn't steal my heart CHAPTER 46: THE EDGE OF WAR
RONAN POVThe air is thick. Not the humidity of summer, not the artificial warmth of the penthouse but something heavier, a presence that presses against my chest and refuses to leave.Victoria Blackthorne is here.I know it before I even see her. That cold precision, that predatory grace, the way she moves through a room as if she owns every shadow, every corner, every breath. That stupid power she thinks she has. I had warned Annabelle. I had told her that Victoria doesn’t retreat; she strikes. That fear is a weapon in her hands, and mercy is her lie.Yet here she is, standing in my living room like she owns it. Perfect heels, tailored jacket, hair immaculately swept back, eyes sharp and calculating. Every inch of her screams control. And I know that she is already planning the chaos she wants to leave in her wake.“What are you doing here?” I demand, keeping my voice low, steady, but edged with anger.She smiles faintly. A thin, dangerous line that does not reach her eyes. “Visiti
The billionaire who couldn't steal my heart CHAPTER 45: THE STORM GATHERS
VICTORIA POVThe world had begun whispering against me again.Not loud enough to shatter my composure, not yet. But loud enough that I could feel it crawling under my skin, irritating every carefully curated layer of my power. The headlines, the social media chatter, the thinly veiled comments from people who once obeyed me without question and now they’ve become a current pulling at me, testing the walls I’d built.I stand by the window in my private suite, overlooking the city. The skyline glows in a thousand fractured lights. Each one feels like a spotlight on my failures. And yet, I don’t flinch. I never flinch.“Mrs Blackthorne,” a strong voice says behind me. Detective Walsh. Always alert. Always cautious. Always watching for cracks.I don’t turn. “What is it?” My tone is calm, but the words carry a weight that makes her hesitate.“Ronan called,” he says carefully, placing the tablet on the desk. “He’s… he’s been with her all day. The coverage is getting bigger. People are compa
The billionaire who couldn't steal my heart CHAPTER 44: SAYING IT OUT LOUD
ANNABELLE POVThe studio lights are blinding.Every glare feels like a judge, a jury, and an executioner rolled into one.I sit straight-backed on the high chair, palms resting lightly in my lap. The leather feels stiff beneath my fingers, reminding me how fragile appearances are. Every inch of me is being measured, dissected, photographed. Every breath is scrutinized.I hear the soft shuffling of crew members, the click of cameras adjusting, and the whispered chatter of producers. But the world outside is the only one that matters. Outside these walls, Ronan is waiting. Outside, Victoria is definitely plotting already.“Whenever you’re ready,” the interviewer says, leaning forward with that practiced calm, that careful smile meant to disarm, to coax confession.I swallow and take a slow breath. My voice feels foreign at first, like I’m borrowing courage from somewhere I haven’t been in years.“I… I suppose I am ready,” I say softly.The red light blinks on, signaling the recording ha
The billionaire who couldn't steal my heart CHAPTER 43: WHEN THE QUEEN HEARS THE CROWD
VICTORIA POVThe first thing I feel is not anger.It is disbelief.The kind that settles heavy in the chest, tightening slowly, as though the world has tilted and I am the only one still standing upright while everything else slides out of place.“Say it again.”My voice is calm. Perfectly even. Controlled.My personal assistant stiffens across from my desk, her fingers tightening around the tablet in her hands. She has worked for me for eight years. She knows better than to speak carelessly. She also knows that repeating bad news never softens it.“Annabelle Blackthorne is trending,” she says again, more carefully this time. “Across multiple platforms. Nationally.”The word echoes.Trending.I lean back in my chair slowly, folding my hands together in my lap, maintaining the posture I’ve perfected over decades. Power is as much about how you sit as it is about what you say.“That’s not possible,” I reply calmly. “She hasn’t spoken.”“She hasn’t,” my assistant agrees. “But the anticip
The billionaire who couldn't steal my heart CHAPTER 42: THE FIRST HIT IN BATTLE
ANNABELLE POVFear doesn’t arrive loudly.It doesn’t kick down the door or scream warnings in your ear.It settles.Quiet. Persistent. Crawling into the cracks of your mind until even silence feels dangerous.By morning, I haven’t slept.Every sound during the night, the hum of the refrigerator, the distant siren, the elevator whirring in the building all made my heart stutter. I lay awake with my eyes fixed on the ceiling, replaying the knock at the door over and over again.Wellness check.Such an innocent phrase for something so violating.Ronan hasn’t left my side. Not once. He’s sitting across the room now, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and controlled as he talks to someone a security, I think. Or lawyers. Or both. At this point, everything blurs together into one long thread of tension.Sofia sleeps lightly in the armchair, shoes still on, arms folded like a shield even in rest.I feel guilty.For dragging them into this.For existing loudly enough to be noticed.For being
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