Todos os capítulos de Married To The Billionaire I Hate: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Cole's POV.I didn’t tell Emily what I was working on. I just asked her to stay in bed a little longer this morning. She gave me that look…eyebrows drawn together, mouth slightly pouted like she was ready to interrogate me…but I kissed her forehead and mumbled something about it being a surprise.She was already exhausted. Between the dizziness, vomiting, and her quiet crying in the bathroom at night, she needed a break. So I told her to rest. And surprisingly, she listened.I went straight into the spare room across the hall. The one she hadn’t opened in weeks. Boxes were still in there from when we moved in. I’d been slowly clearing it out every night while she was asleep. One box at a time.The nursery wasn’t done yet. Not even close. But I managed to paint the walls a soft green…not too bright, not too dull. Somewhere in between. We didn’t know the baby's gender yet, and honestly, I didn’t care. I just wanted them safe. Healthy. I assembled the crib myself, even though the manual

Cole's POV.I waited until Emily was fast asleep before walking down to the living room. The penthouse was quiet, just the soft hum of the central system and the occasional creak of the old hardwood floors beneath my feet. The city outside glittered through the massive glass windows, but inside, it felt calm. Almost still. For once.I didn’t expect anyone to be awake, but there she was…Evelyn, Emily’s mother. She was seated on the edge of one of the couches, a glass of red wine in her hand. She looked up when she heard me, offering a faint smile. The same kind Emily gave when she was trying not to show she was tired.“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked.Evelyn shook her head gently. “Not really. Been thinking too much.”I paused, then walked to the bar and poured myself a drink…just whiskey, neat. I didn’t need anything fancy. Just something to take the edge off.“Join me?” she asked.I nodded and took the seat across from her, setting my glass down on the table first before settling back into

Emily's POV.The letter came in the middle of the afternoon, slipping through the mail slot like it didn’t belong…no return address, no identification at all. I didn’t even have to open it to feel the weight of its presence. My stomach twisted. I didn’t need to know who it was from; I already had a sinking feeling in my gut.I reached down and picked it up slowly, holding the plain envelope in my hands. The paper was thin, the kind that felt wrong between your fingers…almost too soft, too delicate. It didn’t fit. Not with everything that had happened. Not with everything I’d gone through.I ripped open the envelope with shaking hands. A photo slid out, hitting the counter with a dull sound that echoed in my head. I didn’t have to look at the face to know who it was. Vanessa.She was still out there.My heart skipped a beat. The photo was recent…taken within the past week, maybe even days. She stood in front of some half-lit building, her expression as cold and calculating as ever. But

Cole's POV.The room was dark except for the soft glow of the city lights peeking through the windows. My eyes blinked open slowly, groggy at first, then sharp the moment I heard her.Emily.She was twisting under the covers, a soft whimper escaping her throat. Then another. Her fists clenched the sheets, legs tangled. Her face was wet, mouth trembling, brows pulled together like she was in pain."No... no, please... don't..."My chest clenched.I sat up instantly, pulled the covers off her slowly, careful not to startle her. Her breathing was shallow, fast. She turned her face into the pillow, still trapped in whatever nightmare had her.I slid my arms around her waist, pulling her carefully into me, like she might break. Her body was warm but cold sweat stuck to her skin. I pressed my lips to her temple. "Shh, baby, you're safe," I whispered. "I'm here. It's just a dream. You're home."She jerked slightly, breath catching in her throat. I rubbed circles into her back slowly, kept my

Emily's POV.I knew what Cole was doing, even though he didn’t say it out loud. He wasn’t the type to spell things out when his actions already screamed what his heart was trying to say. He saw the way my eyes were drifting too often to the windows. He caught how my fingers always hovered over my phone screen. The nightmares. The way I snapped at him over breakfast yesterday because the eggs were too salty when they weren’t. I knew he saw it all.So when he knocked on the bathroom door and said, “You’ve got ten minutes or I’m dragging you out in sweatpants,” I smiled. It was a genuine one. Not forced. Not rehearsed. Just a small smile that told me... he was trying to bring me back.And maybe I needed that.I stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp, wrapped in a towel. He looked up from where he was tying Smith’s shoelaces, and the second our eyes met, his face softened.“Hey,” he said, standing.“Hey,” I murmured back, letting my towel drop to the floor to grab the outfit I laid