All Chapters of My Daughter Found Me A Billionaire Husband : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Lily Thompson I slipped an arm around Ryan’s waist as he lowered himself carefully onto the edge of the bed, a soft hiss escaping his lips when the movement pulled at his side. “Slow down,” I muttered, steadying him until he sat upright. “You’re going to rip your stitches open at this rate.” He gave me that infuriating, lopsided grin, even while sweat beaded across his forehead. “If I do, at least I’ll know my nurse is cute enough to make me forget the pain.” I rolled my eyes, though my heart gave a little jump. “Just sit still.” The first aid kit was already open on the nightstand. I grabbed a roll of fresh bandage and leaned in. His towel slipped a little lower around his hips, and I froze before yanking my gaze back up. Of course, Ryan noticed. He always noticed. “See something you like?” His voice was low, teasing, smug. “See a patient who doesn’t know how to shut up,” I shot back, but my face was hot. My fingers trembled slightly as I peeled back the old bandage.

Ryan Edwards I lay back on the sheets, still feeling the heat of her skin against mine, heart pounding from more than just exertion. Lily. Damn her. She always had this way of unraveling me—physically, mentally, every single time. Every laugh, every touch, every heated glance had led to this. And now… now that she was curled up beside me, breathing soft and even, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to protect her, how much I wanted to claim her, and yet how much I wanted to wait, make it special… like I promised. I traced a finger along her shoulder, memorizing the curve, the softness, every little detail. She looked peaceful, almost innocent, yet I knew better. She had fire in her, stubbornness, the kind that matched mine. She didn’t just steal my body, she stole my focus, my attention, my damn mind. And the thing that scared me? Even after everything, the past, the dangers, the mistakes I’d made, I couldn’t imagine letting anyone else touch her. She belonged i

Lily Thompson The first sign was the envelope. Ryan found it on the hood of his car one morning, plain and white. He didn’t say anything to me at first. I only noticed because when he came back inside, his face was pale and his jaw tight. “What is it?” I asked, wiping my hands on a towel. “Nothing,” he said too fast, sliding the envelope into his briefcase. “Just business.” But the way he gripped the handle, the way his shoulders stayed stiff long after, told me it wasn’t “just business.” That night, after he thought I’d gone to bed, I found him at the kitchen table. The envelope was open in front of him. Photos spilled across the wood. I froze when I saw them. Ryan, younger, thinner, his eyes hollow. A needle in his arm. Powder on a table. His body slumped on a couch. It didn’t even look like him, not the man I knew now. But it was him. He didn’t notice me until my hand touched the back of the chair. “Ryan…” He jerked, sweeping the photos back into the envelop

Lily Thompson It happened on a Tuesday. The day had started normal. I took Isabella to school, went to class, met Theo at the library to go over our project. Everything was calm, almost too calm. But Ryan didn’t come home that night. At first, I told myself it was another late meeting. Another secret call. I tried to act like I didn’t care, like it wasn’t my place to ask. But when the clock crept past midnight and the house stayed empty, fear started to crawl up my spine. By two in the morning, I was pacing the living room, staring at my phone, willing it to ring. It didn’t. When the knock finally came, it wasn’t at the door. It was at the window. I rushed over, my heart hammering, and nearly screamed when I saw him. Ryan. His face was bruised, his lip split, his shirt torn and stained dark. I yanked the door open. “Oh my God—what happened to you?” He stumbled inside, holding his ribs. “I’m fine.” “You’re not fine,” I snapped, my hands shaking as I reached

Lily Thompson The days after Ryan’s attack were heavy. He healed slow. His bruises faded, the swelling went down, but the weight in his eyes stayed. Some nights, he sat outside on the porch with a drink in his hand, staring at the dark like it held all his answers. Other nights, he was gone before I even realized he had slipped out. I wanted to demand the truth, but every time I saw the exhaustion in his face, the way he winced when he thought no one was looking, I bit my tongue. Instead, I focused on school. Theo noticed before anyone else. We were in the library, books scattered between us, when he leaned back in his chair and studied me. “You look tired,” he said softly. I gave a small laugh. “That’s because I am.” “You’re carrying too much again.” I shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” But his eyes told me he didn’t believe me. When I dropped my pen, he reached across the table, covering my hand with his. “Lily… you don’t always have to be strong. Not