Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Arrogant Billionaire's Redemption: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

The sound of Bella’s voice trickled into my mind, faint at first, like background noise I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “You know you have to stop looking at the door whenever a customer walks in. You’re no longer a waitress.” Her words barely registered. My heart had dropped to the pit of my stomach, the air leaving me all at once, replaced by a cold shiver that crawled up my spine. I froze, horror painted across my face. “You’re a…” Bella trailed off, her voice fading as her eyes followed mine toward the door. Then she gasped. “Uh oh.” And just like that, my worst fear solidified into reality. Simon. He had walked into the restaurant as though he owned it, moving with that maddeningly relaxed air, his eyes scanning the space with casual ease. I ducked my head at once, burying my face between my hands, hiding behind the curtain of my hair. Maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t seen me yet. “That’s very fruitless,” Bella whispered, her tone carrying both resignation and a pinch of smug am

For a moment, I considered coming clean, letting the words slip from my lips—the truth of a son he never knew about. The truth that sat at the center of me like a stone too heavy to swallow. But fear rose higher, stronger, sharper than the longing for relief. It pressed down on my chest until I had no choice but to bite my tongue. So, instead of speaking, I chewed slowly, dragging out the motion as though time itself might help me formulate something believable. Something that would keep him from seeing through me. Something that wouldn’t turn the serious expression on his face into something darker, heavier, irreversible. My thoughts were tangled, a frayed mess pulled between confession and lies. Between freedom and destruction. I thought I had buried this weight, thought the fear had loosened when Lisa hadn’t spoken Ajax’s name in front of him. For a while, I’d let myself breathe in that fragile relief. But here it was again, alive, gnawing at my insides like I’d only been fooling

By the time lunch rolled around, my head was spinning—caught in a whirlpool of frustration that I couldn’t climb out of. I sat still, hands folded in my lap, trying to will my heartbeat into a calmer rhythm. But it was impossible. My chest felt like it was on fire, my throat burned as though I had been chewing hot gum. The heat bled into my palms, drawing sweat that I wiped again and again against the ash-gray fabric of my pants. “At this point,” I thought miserably, staring at the dark streaks my damp hands had left across the material, “I’ll never be able to tell him.” If only he didn’t smile that way—those face-splitting smiles that made everything inside me twist and melt whenever our eyes met. If only he didn’t look at me with that kind of affection, so raw, so unguarded. Maybe then it would be easier. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like I was standing at the edge of something vast and terrifying. Maybe it would be easier if I weren’t risking… "Where should we eat today?" My mus

The door swung shut behind me with a hollow finality, the echo following me as I rushed forward, sneakers smacking against the long cement driveway. The sound pounded in my ears, loud enough to drown out the softer noises—the whisper of grass as the evening breeze combed through it, the faint chirp of birds somewhere in the trees. I barely noticed them. The rhythm of my feet was a drumbeat, my pulse keeping time in my chest, a steady rush of blood that seemed to climb into my skull. I sidestepped the water fountain, hardly sparing it a glance despite its sculpted glory catching the fading light. The spray shimmered, mist curling in the air, but to me it was nothing—just another obstacle, another distraction between me and what mattered. My eyes locked instead on the double doors ahead, massive, carved, polished until they gleamed. They separated me from my son. If sheer force of will could’ve dissolved them, they’d have melted to dust right then and there. Instead, they did something

I marched away from him, stomping back inside, away from the cool evening air and the glimmer of the ellipse pool that once held our stolen moments. The slap of my shoes against polished stone echoed sharp in my ears, louder than my heartbeat. Relief trickled into me when I realized Simon didn’t follow—no footsteps shadowed mine, no breath chasing close behind. Up the stairs, my stomp softened into a walk. Red drained from my vision, though exhaustion sank heavy into my shoulders. By the time I reached the room where my son waited, I felt hollow. Unbelief crowded in, pressing against my skull. The realization that the world I thought I’d carefully built was crumbling struck me hard. I pushed open the door and found Ajax crouched on the rug, absorbed in the world of his action figures. “Let’s go home,” I said. His face fell, but he obeyed without complaint, clutching toy Spiderman tightly in his small hand. I stepped inside, hefting his bag onto my shoulder. Then I reached for hi