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94

Auteur: Goeey
last update Date de publication: 2026-08-17 14:56:35

The clinic was three blocks ahead when Gideon stopped the car and left the engine idling at the curb. Its low vibration ran through the floor beneath my shoes. Gideon’s hands stayed on the steering wheel, his attention fixed through the windshield. Elias leaned forward from the back seat, following his gaze, while my mother went still beside me.

Across the street, Shane stood on the sidewalk alone, hands buried in his jacket pockets and shoulders slightly hunched against the cold. No lawyer st
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  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   94

    The clinic was three blocks ahead when Gideon stopped the car and left the engine idling at the curb. Its low vibration ran through the floor beneath my shoes. Gideon’s hands stayed on the steering wheel, his attention fixed through the windshield. Elias leaned forward from the back seat, following his gaze, while my mother went still beside me. Across the street, Shane stood on the sidewalk alone, hands buried in his jacket pockets and shoulders slightly hunched against the cold. No lawyer stood beside him, no car waited at the curb, and no one approached him. He simply watched the clinic entrance as though he had been waiting for us. My mother’s fingers closed around mine. “Adeline.” The tremor in her hand ran straight into mine. Across the street, Shane shifted his weight. Traffic moved behind him in gray and silver streaks. Pedestrians passed between us, coats and bags breaking the view for seconds at a time, but his figure remained in the same place. My stomach tightened. The

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   93

    Sleep felt impossible because the deposition notes burned a hole in my brain. A sharp chime echoed from the front gate, and my body bolted upright. My thumb checked the security monitor, and a familiar figure stood under the yellow streetlight. My feet hit the cold floor, and my hand grabbed the banister while the wooden stairs creaked under my weight. Gideon stepped out of the kitchen, and his dark eyes tracked my movement. "Who is here?" he asked. My throat swallowed hard. "My mother," my lips murmured. Gideon’s posture shifted, but he just nodded and stepped back to give me space. The front door opened, as the cool night air rushed inside. My mother stood on the porch with shaking shoulders, and her hands clutched a worn leather purse. My eyes traced the lines of exhaustion on her face, and the heavy knot of resentment from the phone call softened into a dull ache. My mother stepped forward, and my arms wrapped around her waist. The familiar warmth of her embrace

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   92

    My eyes stared at the pile of deposition notes on the bed, and the black text blurred slightly under the overhead light. My fingers trembled against the fabric, and my brain demanded a distraction before the panic swallowed me whole. Grabbing my phone, my thumb hovered over the contacts list. The name sat at the very bottom, untouched for four months. My breath hitched, and my thumb pressed the call button. The line rang once. Then it rang twice. My chest tightened because voicemail felt entirely expected, and a harsh dismissal felt equally likely. My thumb hovered over the end button, ready to hang up before the machine picked up. A sharp click broke the silence. "Adeline?" Her mother's voice cracked through the speaker, rough and entirely exhausted. My body froze. My lungs stopped pulling in air. "Hi, Mom," my voice whispered, though the sound came out entirely too quiet. "I have been waiting for you to call," she sobbed. The sound tore straight through the speaker an

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   91

    Elias tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and pulled the car onto a quiet, tree-lined road. "Change of plans," he announced. "The Nile is too crowded." Gideon shifted in the jump seat. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Where are we going?" "The Blackstone conservatory," Elias replied. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "It is quiet. The glass walls block the wind. No paparazzi." Gideon uncrossed his arms. He looked at me. "Are you comfortable with that?" I nodded. The heavy exhaustion of the morning pressed against my shoulders. A quiet, enclosed space sounded perfect. "Take me there," I said. The car rolled to a stop in front of a massive glass structure. The iron gates slid open. Elias parked the car and stepped out. He opened my door. I took his hand and stepped onto the gravel path. A cool draft swept through the entrance. Gideon stepped in front of me immediately. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The heavy fabric swall

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   90

    David spread a stack of printed transcripts across the table. The black text blurred slightly in the morning light. My old text messages to Shane filled page after page. I picked up the top sheet. The words stared back at me. ' I am sorry. I will stay home tonight. ' ' Please do not yell at me in front of the staff. ' ' I did not mean to make you angry. I will fix it. ' My chest tightened. The familiar, heavy weight of the past pressed down on my ribs. My hand shook just a fraction. I pressed my fingertips flat against the paper to stop the movement. Gideon stood behind my chair. His hands rested on my shoulders. His thumbs rubbed slow, steady circles into my tense muscles. Elias sat across the table. His dark eyes tracked my face. He did not look at the papers. He looked entirely at me. David tapped a pen against the legal pad. "His lawyer will read these out loud," David said. "He will try to paint you as unstable. He will ask why you stayed." I set the paper d

  • Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil   89

    Friday. Three days remained until Shane’s financial deposition. The bullpen hummed with a tense, electric energy. I typed the final numbers into the coastal vendor spreadsheet. My shoulders ached from hours of hunching over the keyboard. Sarah walked past my desk. Her hip bumped the edge of my pen cup. The plastic container tipped over, spilling blue and black ink across the wood. She did not stop. She kept walking toward the breakroom, her heels clicking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. A loud, dramatic sigh drifted back from the coffee machine. I did not look up. I just swept the pens into my desk drawer with my forearm and kept typing. The old urge to explain myself, to defend my space, was completely gone. She wanted a reaction. I would not give her one. Carla tapped on the glass partition. She held a thick file against her chest. "David is in the conference room," she said. "Mr. Vale and Mr. Blackstone are already waiting." I grabbed my notepad and walked into the executi

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