บททั้งหมดของ I Said Yes to My Ex's Enemy: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

　　The comment section under Emily’s latest post lit up like wildfire.　　Former colleagues from A Design—especially the design department—flooded in with supportive words:　　“This is stunning, Emily!”　　“Can’t wait to see the rest of your collection!”　　“So proud of you!”　　It was the kind of encouragement she hadn’t realized she missed.　　Meanwhile,　　Mike sat in the lounge of his hotel suite, a half-finished glass of whiskey in his hand and frustration brewing beneath his composed surface. His phone pressed to his ear as he waited for the production team to answer.　　“She hasn’t submitted any design,”came the nervous voice of the head jeweler.“Emily said the concept had been scrapped. She told us not to proceed.”　　Mike froze.　　“What do you mean scrapped?”he asked sharply.　　The voice on the other end hesitated.“She said the rings weren’t needed anymore.”　　Mike’s grip on th

　　He’d only met the mysterious backer once, years ago. The man had written a single check that saved Moon Visual from shutting down—and then vanished from the spotlight completely.　　No press. No photos. Just a single stipulation:keep the focus on the art.　　And now he was standing right in front of Leo, in a fitted charcoal coat, looking perfectly comfortable beside Emily.　　Emily, oblivious to the mental chaos unfolding in front of her, smiled brightly.“Leo, this is my husband, Adrian. Adrian, this is Leo—the co-founder of Moon Visual. We’ve known each other since high school.”　　Adrian offered his hand smoothly.“Pleasure to meet you, Leo.”　　His tone was calm, his expression unreadable.　　But Leo caught it.　　The brief glint in Adrian’s eyes. The unspoken warning.　　Don’t say a word.　　Leo blinked once, then quickly reached out to shake his hand.“Of course—great to meet you, too.”　　He laughed a little too loudly.“Wow, Emily, you really married well.”　　Emily raised a brow.“What’s

　　Adrian was still in his office when the last light of dusk spilled across the skyline, painting his floor-to-ceiling windows in soft amber. Papers were neatly stacked on the desk, one hand absently flipping through a contract—but his focus had long since dulled.　　His phone buzzed.　　It was a message from Emily.　　Emily:　　When you’re done with work, come find me.　　He sat up a little straighter.　　A moment later, another message popped up.　　Emily:　　When you step out of your company’s front doors…there’ll be a pumpkin carriage waiting to pick up the prince.　　Adrian froze.　　A slow beat of silence filled the room.　　Pumpkin…carriage?　　Something stirred in his chest. A wild, ridiculous, impossible suspicion.　　He didn’t even wait to respond.　　In one smooth motion, he stood, grabbed his coat, and pressed the elevator button for his private descent.

She let out a shaky breath as he opened the box and slid the ring onto his finger.Then he took her hand and carefully slipped the matching band onto hers.　　For a second,neither of them moved.　　And then—he leaned forward and kissed her hand,right over the metal she had forged for him.　　That was when the first firework bloomed in the sky behind them—soft gold against deep navy.Then another.And another.　　She blinked,startled,before remembering—she had planned this.She had booked a private team,set up the timing,even arranged for everything to be filmed quietly from a distance.　　But none of it felt staged now.　　Not when he was looking at her like that.　　Not when she could feel her heartbeat matching his.　　Adrian didn’t look away.　　He wasn’t thinking about the lights or the camera crew or the carefully orchestrated night.　　He was thinking about her.　　And if there was ever a moment in his life when he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be—it was now　　The ride home

　　The next morning, Emily stirred slowly under the soft sheets, her body aching in places she hadn’t expected. A deep, satisfied kind of soreness, the kind that reminded her just how thoroughly last night had unraveled her.　　She barely had time to shift before a warm hand found the curve of her lower back.　　Adrian’s voice was low, still laced with sleep.“Sore?”　　She let out a muffled sound, burying her face against his shoulder.“Like I ran a marathon I didn’t train for.”　　He chuckled, the sound sending a vibration through her ribs as he pulled her gently onto her stomach.“Stay still.”　　His fingers were warm and strong, pressing into her shoulders, her spine—slow, practiced strokes that somehow made the ache bloom and ease all at once. She melted beneath his touch, every knot of tension unwinding with every sweep of his hand.　　“You’re unfairly good at this,”she murmured.　　They stayed like that for a while—quiet, close, the air between them tender in a way that needed no words.