Secret Billionaire Divorcee のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 181 - チャプター 190

Caroline’s Point of ViewI don’t know how long I’ve been in here.The cold, stale air presses against my skin. It clings to me like a second layer, suffocating and oppressive. My mouth is dry again, and the back of my throat feels like I’ve swallowed sandpaper. My wrists are sore from the ropes, and my shoulders are tense, locked in place. My mind races through a thousand thoughts, but nothing settles long enough to make sense.Please, God. Please let Adrian find me.I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the noise of the warehouse, the eerily quiet space that feels like a tomb. The only thing that keeps me grounded is the tiny device in my hand, the recording still running—everything Dolly’s said, everything she’s done, all captured in that one small, hidden gadget. It’s not enough to calm my nerves, though. What good is it if I die here?A part of me doesn’t want to think about that. I don’t want to imagine that this could be it.Then—A sound—a bang.I jerk upright in the chai

Caroline’s Point of ViewThe world feels like it’s moving in slow motion. The fear in my chest, the frantic beat of my heart, it’s all consuming, but nothing hits harder than the weight of the doctor’s words.“Ma’am, you can’t sign. You’re not family.”I blink, struggling to grasp the meaning. Not family? I’m not family. The thought catches in my throat. I don’t have the right to make decisions. Not for Adrian. Not in this moment when it matters the most.I try to speak, my voice weak and trembling. “But... I—” My words break off, choked by the panic rising in my chest. I need to help him. But without permission, there’s nothing I can do.The doctor’s gaze softens slightly, his eyes full of pity. “I’m sorry, but we need someone with legal authority to make this call.”The cold, sterile air of the room presses down on me, suffocat

Caroline’s Point of ViewI sit across from the detective in the cold, gray-walled interrogation room, the recorder lying on the table between us. My fingers tremble slightly as I slide the flash drive across the smooth surface. I’ve played this moment in my head all night—how I’d hand over the truth, how I’d finally clear my name.“This is it,” I say, voice low but steady. “Everything she confessed. It’s all there.”Detective Ramirez picks up the drive, giving me a long, assessing look. “You’re sure she wasn’t coerced? No threats?”I meet his gaze. “She talked on her own. I just listened.”He nods slowly, motioning for the officer behind the mirror to take it for processing. My stomach tightens as the door clicks shut again. The moment feels heavier than I imagined.“She admitted to the theft of your designs, the drugging incident, and the incident involving the late Mr. Wayne?” he asks.“Yes,” I say. “She confessed to all of it. She also named someone else. A man. I don’t know his fu

Caroline’s Point of ViewKnoxx is standing in front of me again. Same expensive suit. Same arrogant posture. Same eyes that once used to undo me with a single look. Not anymore.I don’t flinch when he speaks.“You really won’t even look at me?”I cross my arms, leaning back against the wall of the hospital waiting area. The air smells sterile and cold. But inside, I feel oddly still. Numb, even.“I’m looking at you right now,” I say quietly.“That’s not what I meant,” he replies. He shifts on his feet like he’s uncomfortable. “Caroline… everything’s out. Everyone knows what Dolly did. She’s going to prison. You don’t have to keep pretending like you’re angry at me.”“I’m not pretending,” I say, still calm. Too calm. “And I’m not angry.”He frowns. “You’re not?”

Caroline’s Point of ViewThe hospital halls are quieter than usual this afternoon. Adrian is still asleep when I come back from the nurse’s station, where I asked for his updated chart. He’s stable. Recovering well, they said. But even if they didn’t, I think I would’ve stayed right here anyway. I sink into the chair beside his bed and fold his blanket higher on his chest. His breathing is slow, steady. Peaceful.I don’t know how long I just sit there staring at him. Watching his fingers twitch slightly in his sleep. I’ve memorized every line of his face these past few days, every scar and freckle, every soft crease that forms when he dreams. Sometimes, I wonder what he dreams about. Does he know I’m here?There’s no schedule in my head anymore. No outside world. No thoughts of work, the shop, or anything else. Just this room. Just him.The door clicks open behind me.I don’t need to look to know it’s Knoxx. The air shifts the moment he walks in—thick with that same tension that’s bee