Semua Bab Married To The Billionaire I Hate: Bab 161 - Bab 170

Stevie-lou's POV. For the past three days, I had been a ghost.I woke up and felt like I hadn’t slept at all. I walked around the house, dragging my feet like I was walking through wet cement. Everything looked like a memory I didn’t belong in. The same old living room with that ugly beige couch I used to hate, the same kitchen where Mom would hum while cooking pasta, the same creaky floorboards in the hallway that used to annoy me when I was a teenager sneaking in past curfew. It all looked too clean. Too quiet. Like someone had pressed pause on the world and left me behind.I couldn’t believe I ever thought I’d feel safe here.Every inch of this house reminded me of who I used to be before everything blew up in my face. Before the penthouse. Before the heels and the designer gowns and the cameras flashing like I was something worth photographing. Back when my biggest secret was sneaking cigarettes behind the shed.I hated being here now.The silence was the worst part.It was loud.

Smith's POV. It had been three days since I last heard her voice.Stevie-lou. Petunia. Whatever name she was using now.Three days since I dropped the charges. Three days since I had my lawyers bury the story so deep no one would ever find it again. No reporters. No press releases. No digital trail. I did everything I could to erase her from the headlines...erase her from the mess she helped create. But I couldn’t erase her from me. No matter how hard I tried.I told myself I hated her.I told myself I should.Hell, I did hate what she did. Lying to me. Betraying me. She made me look like a fool. Made me lose billions in business. Clients pulled out, investors backed off, partnerships crumbled like damn dry toast. I had been in damage control mode since the minute she walked out of that cell. But every night? Every single damn night?I ended up here.Sitting behind the wheel of my black G-Wagon, parked two blocks away from the tiny family house she now stayed in. Old place, paint pe

Stevie-lou's POV.I pulled him closer again, like I couldn’t get enough of his touch, his warmth, his presence. My hands trembled as they roamed over his shoulders, down his back. His lips parted under mine, soft and urgent at the same time, like he’d been starving for this too. I kissed him harder, deeper, as if trying to erase all the distance, the hurt, the time we’d lost.I slid my fingers into his hair, tugging gently, wanting him to know I was here, that I was real...no more walls, no more hiding. I wanted him to see me...the real Stevie-lou, not the lying woman who had betrayed and used him. I reached down, pulling at the hem of my shirt, hoping maybe if I stripped away the last layers of myself, he’d feel like this was all true, all ours.But before I could get the shirt over my head, his hand caught my wrist. Firm but gentle, like he didn’t want to scare me off but had to stop me anyway.“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His eyes were softer than

Stevie-lou's POV. Everything hurt.That was the first thing I knew when I opened my eyes. A dull, throbbing pain in my shoulder, like someone had shoved a hot poker through it and decided to leave it there. My head was foggy, my mouth dry, and the light in the room was way too bright. I squinted against it, trying to sit up, but my body protested with every tiny movement.And then I heard him."Easy, baby. Don’t move too much."Smith.His voice cut through the haze, and I turned my head slowly to find him sitting beside my bed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot, his jaw lined with exhaustion and something deeper...something raw. His hand reached out, brushed a few strands of hair from my face."You’re awake," he breathed, almost like he couldn’t believe it.I blinked at him, my vision sharpening. "Hey..."That one word took all the energy I had. My voice was hoarse, barely there, but it made him smile anyway. And God, that smile. Soft. Ti

Smith's POV. I didn’t want to come here.I had been putting it off for months. Every time Stevie-lou brought it up, I changed the topic or acted like my phone rang. She never pushed. She just looked at me with those calm eyes, nodded, and said, "Okay. When you're ready."But the truth was, I wasn’t sure I'd ever be ready.Now I was standing on a patch of grass, next to a headstone with the name Raymond Parker carved into it.1969 - 2025.It was a nice headstone. Clean with black granite with gold lettering. There were fresh flowers by the side. A little wooden frame with a picture of him smiling at what looked like a birthday party.I remember that face. That was the same man who came to my office looking like life had chewed him up and spat him back out. He had looked desperate. He had looked broken. He had stood right in front of my desk, holding his cap in his hand like a man holding out hope. And I turned him away like he was nothing.Stevie-lou was kneeling by the grave. Her han