TEMPTING THE TYCOON のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Aria’s POVThe Langston Foundation Gala had always been the event of the year. A place where fortunes were made with handshakes and reputations destroyed with whispers. Tonight, it wasn’t just about dazzling lights and gowns glittering under chandeliers — it was about me.The irony wasn’t lost on me. Months ago, I’d been Ethan’s wife, tolerated but never loved, displayed when it suited him, discarded when it didn’t. His mother and sister had hounded me, mocked me, reminded me I’d never belong. And in the end, he’d thrown me out like trash.Now, dressed in emerald silk that hugged every curve, I was about to walk back into his world — but not as his wife. Not as his victim. This time, as his weapon.Julian’s reflection loomed behind me in the mirror, broad-shouldered and storm-eyed. His tie hung undone, his usual composure fractured by the fury simmering just beneath.“You don’t have to do this,” he said, voice low, as though the walls themselves might betray us.“Yes, I do.” I fastene

The headlines came faster than the sunrise.By the time I woke the next morning, New York was already buzzing with my humiliation.“Ex-Wife Returns: Ethan Langston and Aria Brooks Reignite Romance at Gala!”“The Love Triangle of the Year: Billionaire Rivalry Takes Center Stage.”“Julian Huxley Humiliated as Wife Declares Allegiance to Her First Love.”Each headline was paired with glossy photographs — me on Ethan’s arm, his hand on my waist, his smile sharp enough to slice through marble. Me looking caught, cornered, silent. Julian in the background, his fury written all over his face.It didn’t matter that I hadn’t spoken. My silence had become their story.“Turn that off.” Julian’s voice was raw, frayed.I hadn’t even realized the television was still blaring until his hand closed over the remote, the screen flickering to black. He stood there in the living room, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie abandoned, his hair disheveled in a way that betrayed a sleepless night.“Julian—”“Don’t.”

Aria’s POVMy phone nearly slipped from my hands. The photo glared up at me, Gabriella curled peacefully in her bed, her stuffed panda tucked under her chin. The timestamp was from minutes ago.Beneath it, Ethan’s words bled into my vision: She’s safer with me. Always was. Always will be.My chest seized. My legs buckled. “Julian.” My voice cracked, thin and jagged.He crossed the balcony in two strides, eyes darting to the screen. The color drained from his face. His hand clenched so tightly around the railing I heard the metal groan.“He was here,” I whispered, horror strangling me. “Julian, he was *inside the penthouse.*”Julian’s face hardened, every muscle tensing. He stormed inside, barking orders into his phone. “Lock down the building. Check every camera. No one leaves, no one enters.”I followed, my heart pounding. “How did he get in? You doubled security!”“He bribed them.” His voice was raw with fury. “Or he replaced them. I don’t know.” He snapped to the guards stationed a

Aria's PovThe first call came at dawn.No greeting. No voice. Only silence and the faint sound of someone breathing on the other end.I hung up, convinced it was a wrong number—until it rang again.Same pause. Same breath.Then a whisper so soft it scraped like sandpaper.“HE KNOWS.”I froze. My pulse thundered in my ears. “Who is this?”The line went dead.Outside, New York was waking—sirens, traffic, the hum of a city that never cared about individual fear. But inside the penthouse, the world had gone still. I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach. Ethan knew.Julian was already dressed when I reached the kitchen, tie knotted, expression carved from stone. He’d been up all night again, the faint stubble on his jaw a reminder that even billionaires could unravel.“You should eat something,” he said without looking at me.“I’m not hungry.”“You need to keep your strength up.” His eyes flicked briefly to my abdomen—then away, as if the word PREGNANT might summon catastrophe.I slid i

Aria’s POVMorning light had never felt so cruel. It cut through the curtains like shards of glass, spilling across the floor where last night’s newspapers lay in ruins.Julian hadn’t come to bed. His side was cold, untouched. I found him hours later in the study, sitting in the dark, the glow of the TV painting his face in harsh blues.He didn’t need to say a word. The headline on-screen said it all:“EXCLUSIVE: Ethan Langston Claims Fatherhood Live on National Television.”The footage played again—Ethan seated in a sleek studio, perfectly groomed, his expression solemn. “It’s time I tell the truth,” he’d said, hand pressed to his chest like a martyr. “I made mistakes, but the child Aria carries is mine. And I will love that baby regardless of what Julian Huxley’s money or lawyers say.”My stomach turned.Julian muted the screen, his voice low and rough. “He just declared war.”I sank into the chair opposite him, hands trembling. “The world believes him, doesn’t it?”He didn’t answer