Married To The Billionaire I Hate のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Emily's POV.My stomach felt like it was eating itself.The ache had started as a dull discomfort, but now it was something else…something sharp, something cruel. Hunger had turned into a gnawing pain that twisted deep inside me, making it hard to even breathe properly. My throat was dry, my lips cracked. Every muscle in my body ached from being tied up for days.I didn’t know how long I’d been here.Three days? Four?The days blurred together in the darkness of this hellhole. My wrists were raw from the tight ropes, my legs numb from being bound to this stupid chair. My head pounded, and my body felt so weak that even holding my head up was a struggle. But I hadn’t broken down.I wouldn’t.Across from me, one of them sat lazily, chewing on a piece of bread. The sound of him eating filled the room, each bite echoing like a taunt. I tried to ignore it, but my stomach betrayed me with a painful growl.He noticed.His gaze moved to mine, his chewing slowing. He was a big guy, broad shoul

Cole’s POV.The house was too quiet. Too fucking empty. I stood by the window, whiskey in my hand, staring at the city beyond the glass. The skyline stretched endlessly, the glow of distant buildings meaningless. My mind had been running in circles, trapped in a cycle of rage, desperation, and helplessness. Emily was out there somewhere. I knew it. I could feel it.And I was losing my fucking mind without her.I had done everything…called in favors, made threats, paid off people I despised. But every lead turned into a dead end, every clue dissolved before I could grab it.I had never felt this powerless before.Then, it happened.A noise.Shouting.Footsteps pounding against the floor.My grip on the whiskey glass tightened, my entire body going rigid. My instincts kicked in before my mind could process it, and I was already moving.The study doors slammed open as I stepped out, my heart hammering in my chest. The sound of rushed footsteps filled the hallway, guards scrambling towar

Emily’s POV.The morning air was still, thick with an eerie quiet that made my skin prickle. The scent of something warm drifted in from the kitchen, faint but noticeable…eggs, maybe toast. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t really paying attention. My mind was elsewhere, caught in the endless storm that refused to die down in my head.The television was on, its dull glow the only source of movement in the slightly dark living room. The low voices of the newscasters filled the space, the sound blending into the silence like background noise.I sat curled up on the couch, a thick duvet wrapped tightly around me. My fingers gripped the soft fabric, knuckles turning white as I held onto it like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. It was warm, comforting, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.Cole had left me here, just for a moment, after dismissing the servants for the day. He had been fussing over me since last night, refusing to let anyone else take care of me. He was

Vanessa's POV.The room smelled of stale cigarette smoke and artificial air freshener, the kind that barely masked the stench of cheap liquor and desperation. The fluctuating light above me buzzed faintly, with an ugly yellow glow over the peeling wallpaper. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating me, making it impossible to think straight. The mattress beneath me was stiff, the sheets rough against my skin, but I hadn’t moved in hours.My fingers gripped the cracked edges of my phone so tightly that my knuckles turned bone white. My breath was uneven, my pulse hammering violently in my throat.Emily was free.The news was everywhere…blaring from TV screens, flooding social media, plastered across every major headline.Emily Greyson has been rescued.Emily Greyson speaks out for the first time.Cole Greyson’s wife has returned.It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me, like I was free-falling into an abyss with no way to stop. My chest tightened, my hear

Vanessa's POV.The cold night air burned my lungs as I sprinted down the sidewalk, weaving through the scattered groups of pedestrians. My legs ached, my pulse hammered, and a sharp stitch stabbed at my ribs, but I didn’t slow down.I couldn’t.I had to keep moving.The neon lights of a convenience store fluctuated up ahead…a dull, buzzing glow against the darkened street. My stomach twisted painfully. Food. Water. Toiletries. I needed them if I was going to survive the next twenty-four hours.I pushed open the glass door, and the sharp chime of the bell above rang out, cutting through the pounding in my ears.Inside, the store was okay, the air stale with the scent of floor cleaner and cheap snacks. A few customers milled about, their footsteps soft against the linoleum. I kept my head low, tugging my hoodie down further, adjusting my shades.In and out.That was the plan.I grabbed a small basket and moved toward the shelves, forcing myself to breathe evenly, to ignore the way my ha