The Billionaire's Forgotten Ex-wife のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 130

[Lincoln]That surge of possessiveness I always try to tame around my wife comes spiraling up in full force. The image of his form pressed against her scratches at my skin like claws.God, I hate this man in front of me. "Seems our little talk the other day had no effect on you, Mr. Smith."I crouch, gripping a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back as another groan rips through his throat. More blood spills from his already broken nose, dripping down his lips."Do you want me to ruin you, Deric Smith?" I growl, my voice laced with a quiet, deadly promise.He scoffs, arrogance dripping from every pore. Even with his face beaten to a pulp, he still manages to be insufferable."You can't do shit. Your days are numbered, Lincoln Sawyer. We're onto you. It won't be long before San Diego becomes mine!"A humorless laugh escapes my lips, sharp and cutting. "We, huh?" So that explains his sudden bout of courage and the hurdles that have been disturbing the Sawyer group since we came t

[Lincoln]What was I thinking, storming off like that and leaving my pregnant wife alone? The regret is instant, heavy, and suffocating. It gnaws at my insides like a rusted blade. The night air feels colder as I make my way back to our suite, my steps slow but determined. The streets are eerily quiet, the distant hum of the ocean barely soothing the restless thoughts raging in my head. My jaw clenches, frustration curling in my chest. Fuck. How could I have left her like that? She’s carrying my child—our child. And I walked away like a goddamn fool because I was hurt. By the time I reach our door, the weight of my mistake sits heavily on my shoulders, a bitter taste coating my throat. I push it open, my breath hitching at the sight before me. There she is. Curled up on the sofa, her small frame tucked into itself, chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. She’s facing the door, like she was waiting for me, and something inside me twists painfully. Nice job, Romeo

[Lincoln]With my pulse drumming in my ears, I bolt out of my seat, every noise fading beneath the roaring waves of the ocean. My mind hones in on one thing—my wife…drowning the water. Fuck. What was she thinking?Without hesitation, I dive in, my body slicing through the surface as cold water engulfs me. A figure is sinking lower, deeper. My muscles burn as I push forward, lungs tight, heart slamming against my ribs. I reach out, my fingers wrapping around an ankle before I shift to grab her waist.Something suddenly feels... off.A prickle runs down my spine, but my subconscious pushes it aside. Not now. I haul her upward, breaking through the surface, my movements frantic. Water cascades off us as I drag her toward the shore, my steps hurried, my pulse erratic. Her face is completely covered by thick, wet black hair, and that nagging sensation creeps up my spine again.I barely register the growing crowd gathering on the sand. Focus. Adrenaline fills my veins, making my hands shak

[Arella]"Oh, c'mon, Lincoln, not this again."My eyes roll as a pout tugs at my lips. I know he can’t resist when I do that."Our honeymoon’s almost over—we should make the most of it," I plead, tugging his arm repeatedly like a child."We should," he finally turns to face me, a scowl on his handsome face, his deep honey brown eyes flickering with something sinful. "Like every other normal honeymooners, we should be in bed all day for the next two days before we go back."A look of horror flashes across my face, and Lincoln immediately chokes on his suppressed laugh.I take a step back, my core tightening at the memory of last night—his punishment. The way he handled me like I was nothing but his to ruin, the way his voice dropped to that deadly whisper before…No. No way in hell.His laugh settles, but his gaze doesn’t waver. He knows. He knows exactly what I’m thinking about, and I hate that. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and he clicks his tongue, his lips curving into that wicked smir

Cold, sterile stench of the hospital clings to me like a second skin as I hurry down the dimly lit corridor, my pulse pounding so loudly it drowns out the sound of my heels clicking against the floor. The bright overhead lights feel too harsh, the air too cold, and my whole body is tight with panic. "Calm down," Lincoln whispers beside me, his hand finding mine, his grip firm and reassuring. Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down when my sister is in critical condition? When I am supposed to be on my honeymoon, yet here I am, sprinting toward a doctor’s office like my life depends on it? My chest heaves as I force myself to breathe, trying to push back the overwhelming fear clawing at me. Then I spot My mother-in-law, She sits stiffly in a chair outside the doctor’s office, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles have turned white. Her usually warm eyes are clouded with worry, her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. The second she sees me, her expres