Semua Bab Married To The Billionaire I Hate: Bab 151 - Bab 160

Stevie-Lou’s POV I should’ve walked away. Should’ve stood up, mumbled something about sleep, and disappeared into the guest room I never used. But I didn’t. Instead, I reached for him again. This time, he didn’t move. Didn’t stop me. His eyes stayed on mine, waiting. My fingers brushed over his jaw, slow and uncertain at first, until he leaned into my touch. And that was all the permission I needed. I shifted closer, heart hammering like it was trying to warn me of something I was already too deep into. “Smith,” I whispered. He turned toward me, that soft, unreadable look taking over his face again. But this time, I saw through it. The quiet ache. The fire he’d been trying to control since the moment we got home. I climbed onto his lap slowly, legs straddling his hips. His hands found my waist, but he didn’t pull me closer…not yet. He was still giving me space to run, still unsure if I would. Still treating me like something breakable. I tucked a strand of hair behind m

Stevie-Lou’s POV. I couldn’t go back to sleep.I lay there, staring at the ceiling, Smith’s scent still clinging to the sheets, my body still humming from the memory of his touch, but my chest was tight. Too tight. Like my lungs had forgotten how to do their job.God, what the hell was I doing?Every second he was gone felt like a countdown ticking toward disaster. I kept hearing his voice...“I’d rather be here.” His smile. The way he looked at me like I was his home. Like I was his peace. And I was about to blow it all up.I pulled the sheets tighter around me like they could protect me from the avalanche of guilt crashing down. But they couldn’t. Nothing could.My legs wouldn’t stay still. I kept shifting, sitting up, lying back down, curling into a ball, stretching out. Restless. Agitated. Broken.I rolled over to his side of the bed and pressed my face into his pillow.He smelled like cedarwood and clean laundry. And safety.I wanted to stay like this forever. But I couldn’t.Bec

Smith's POV. I didn’t move.I couldn’t.The screen in front of me buzzed faintly, its cold blue light flickering against my skin. The CCtv guy sat to my left, nervously tapping his pen against a file. I could feel him looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but I didn’t say a word.My eyes were glued to the footage.My house. My kitchen. My wife.And Jeremy.I watched him walk through my home like he owned it. The sound from the cameras echoed in the room. His damn shoes smacking against my marble tiles. He wasn’t just looking around. He was studying it. Touching the walls, checking the photos, walking around like he built the place.I leaned forward in my chair, fists clenched."Jeremy," Petunia said, voice shaking. "What do you want?"He didn’t even flinch. Just kept walking like she was background noise."Jeremy. What do you want?" she said again, louder.He turned around fast. Too fast. I saw her step back. She was scared.Good.His face was twisted with rage."You've been ig

Smith’s POVThe hallway reeked of bleach and despair. It was sterile, too clean, like they were trying to scrub away the sins that soaked these walls. Every step I took echoed off the cold white tiles and concrete walls like the ticking of a bomb getting ready to blow. The guard ahead didn’t say a word…not that I wanted him to. I couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears anyway.My fists were clenched so tightly, the skin had split at the edges of my nails. A bead of blood ran down the side of my palm, unnoticed. My throat burned from the acid sitting there, my chest rising and falling in uneven staccato breaths. My heart... God, my heart felt like it was being strangled inside my chest by invisible hands…tightening every second, wringing out what was left of me.I now knew. I knew why she did it. Knew about her father. The plot, the lies, the manipulation. The fake name. The carefully fabricated life built on a foundation of poison and vengeance.But knowing didn’t make it

Smith's POV. The first glass had gone down like water.The second burned.The third…God, I didn’t even remember pouring it.I just knew that I was sitting on the damn floor in my penthouse, still wearing the same suit I had worn to the station, my tie hanging loose around my neck like a noose I hadn’t bothered tightening. The lights were too bright, so I didn’t bother turning any on. The city glowed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it didn’t mean anything. Nothing meant anything.It reeked of her in here.Petunia.Stevie-lou.Whatever the hell her name really was.The scent was everywhere. Her perfume still clung to the cushions. The air freshener she insisted on buying from that overpriced organic place downtown still lingered in the hallway. The lavender-vanilla kind that used to make me laugh because it made the place smell like a spa. Now it made my stomach twist.Her damn briefcase was still by the door. Half-zipped. Ready to run.And me?I had arrested my wife.The woma