Semua Bab Claiming What's Mine: A Billionaire Romance: Bab 61 - Bab 70

At first, it was subtle—a little more irritation in his tone, moments of unexplained frustration. But over time, those small instances grew into something far more toxic. He became short-tempered, often lashing out over the smallest things. He would get angry when I questioned his decisions or suggested ideas for the restaurants. The man who once looked at me like I was his world now barely acknowledged me unless it was about work.And yet, here I am, still in a relationship with him. Still living in the same house we once called a home. I tell myself it’s because I owe him everything—the opportunities he gave me, the education I pursued, the career I’ve built. But deep down, I know that’s not the whole truth.A part of me still clings to the memory of the man he used to be. The Vincent who would surprise me with flowers just because. The Vincent who made me laugh until my stomach hurt. The Vincent who told me he would always protect me.But that man feels like a distant memory now.I

He never paid me for my work, never allowed me to earn anything of my own. Instead, he claimed it was his duty to provide. But his "providing" was just another way to control me, another way to keep me trapped in this toxic, suffocating relationship. Where could I possibly go now? How could I leave without a way to support myself? The question plagued my mind. Even if I found a way to escape, how would I survive? I was trapped, both physically and emotionally. I loved him so much, despite everything. How could I just walk away from the man I had spent so much time with, the man who had once made me feel cherished—even if his love now felt like a prison? The doubt gnawed at me, but so did the realization that I couldn’t keep living like this. I couldn’t keep suffocating under his control, feeling like I was nothing without him. I had given everything to this relationship, but in return, I had lost myself. The love I thought I had wasn’t love anymore. It was manipulation. But how coul

I hesitated in the doorway, clutching my bag tightly. “Vincent… maybe you should stop drinking tonight. We could… talk?”He laughed, the sound bitter and mocking. “Talk? About what? About how you’re avoiding me? Or maybe about how you’re secretly planning to leave me?”“I’m not planning to leave,” I said quickly, though my heart told me otherwise. “I just want us to… to fix this. To fix us.”“There’s nothing to fix, Kirsten,” he said, his voice rising. “You belong to me. You owe me. End of story.”The words hit me like a slap. I stood there, frozen, as he poured himself another drink. It was in that moment I realized that love alone wasn’t enough. Not when it came with chains. Not when it came with pain.I turned and walked to the bedroom, locking the door behind me. I didn’t cry. I just sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, wondering how much longer I could keep pretending everything was fine.That night, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the locked door. I could s

I buried myself in managing schedules, balancing budgets, and ensuring that every corner of the business ran smoothly. It was easier to focus on numbers and deadlines than to dwell on the emptiness Vincent had left behind. Later that day, I found myself alone in the office, poring over inventory reports in an attempt to distract myself from the chaos of my personal life. The silence in the room was broken by the creak of the door opening. I looked up and saw Jacob standing there, his expression uneasy. "Oh, Jacob?" I said with a small smile, trying to mask the weariness in my tone. He scratched the back of his head as he approached, his steps hesitant. “I just… I need to tell you something,” he began, his voice wavering. “Sure, what is it?” I asked, setting down the papers and giving him my full attention. Jacob shifted on his feet, as though weighing whether to continue. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Last Saturday, something happened… something I didn’t expect to see and didn

Part of me wanted to cling to the memories of the man he used to be, to hold onto the hope that he might change, that he might find his way back to the person I fell in love with. But the other part of me—the part that had endured his cruelty, his indifference, his toxic hold over me—knew better. I couldn’t deny it any longer: this was not love. This was control. This was manipulation. This was not the life I had dreamed of, and this was not the man I had thought I would spend my life with. Tears burned in my eyes as I struggled to keep my composure. In that moment, amidst the pain and the heartbreak, a small, defiant spark flickered within me. It whispered that I deserved better, that I deserved to be free, to be happy, to live a life that was truly mine. It was faint, but it was there—a glimmer of hope, a reminder that no matter how lost I felt, there was still a way out. I just had to find the strength to take it. I don’t know how I managed to survive the fierce argument. All I