บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride: บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

Ethan povI buried myself in work like it was the only thing keeping me upright. Meetings blurred into calls, calls into numbers, numbers into strategies I refined with ruthless precision. If I stayed focused, if I stayed sharp, I didn’t have to think about Claire’s distant eyes or the hollow space beside me in bed. Work was clean. Predictable. It didn’t recoil when I reached for it.I was reviewing quarterly projections when my office door slammed open so hard the glass rattled.I didn’t have time to look up before hands closed around my collar, fingers digging into my throat.Sylvester.My father’s face was twisted with fury, veins bulging as he slammed me back against the desk. Pain exploded through my shoulders, but I didn’t fight him. I just smiled.The first punch landed square on my jaw.My head snapped to the side, copper flooding my mouth. The second punch came fast, cracking against my cheekbone. The room spun, but I laughed—a low, breathless sound that only enraged him more

Amelia POVThe next morning unfolded like every other, painfully ordinary. I moved through the kitchen on autopilot, cracking eggs, flipping pancakes, slicing fruit, pretending routine could stitch together what was unraveling. The smell of coffee filled the air, rich and familiar, and for a brief moment I let myself believe today could be different. That maybe last night had been a crack, not a break.“Breakfast’s ready,” I called softly as I set plates on the table.No answer.I wiped my hands on a towel and walked down the hallway, pausing outside the bedroom. Ethan was already dressed, tugging on his jacket with sharp, hurried movements.“I made your favorite,” I said carefully.He didn’t look at me. “I’m not hungry.”“You barely ate yesterday.”“I’m late,” he replied, voice clipped. He reached for his keys, already halfway out the door.“Ethan,” I tried again, my chest tightening. “Can we talk later?”He hesitated, just for a second, then nodded without meeting my eyes. “We’ll se

Ethan POVThe trip was Claire’s idea.That alone should’ve told me how much it meant.As the plane touched down and the familiar city lights spread beneath us, a quiet sense of contentment settled in my chest. I hadn’t realized how much tension I’d been carrying until it eased, just a little, the moment I looked over at her and saw that soft, tentative smile she reserved for moments when she was trying—really trying.She had planned everything. The location. The schedule. Even the little details she knew I liked but rarely mentioned. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was thoughtful, deliberate. Personal.And to me, that meant more than any grand gesture ever could.I’d been angry before the trip. Not the explosive kind—Claire and I hadn’t been that kind of couple in years—but the quiet, simmering kind. The kind that lived in pauses, in half-finished conversations, in the space between us at night. I’d felt her pulling away, even when she was right beside me. Felt the hesitation every time

Maxwell POVClaire’s words followed me long after her car disappeared from view, echoing in my head with a cruel persistence I couldn’t silence. Please. Move on. They weren’t shouted, weren’t dramatic, yet they cut deeper than anything she could have said in anger. I stood there like an idiot, hands at my sides, staring at the empty stretch of road where she’d been moments ago, feeling as though something vital had been ripped out of my chest and left bleeding in the open.I had known it was coming. Or at least, I told myself I had. When she started ignoring my messages, replying days later with clipped, polite responses, something in me had already begun to sink. Claire was many things, but careless wasn’t one of them. Her silence wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate, controlled, and that made it hurt more. Every unread message felt like a door quietly locking, one after the other.I tried to be reasonable. I told myself she was busy. Luke, work, wedding preparations—there were a tho

Amelia povThe house was unusually quiet that morning, the kind of quiet that pressed against my ears and made every thought louder than it should be. Two days. That was all that stood between me and the wedding. Two days until vows, smiles, photographs, and a future I kept insisting was the right one. I moved through the living room with a clipboard tucked under my arm, checking off tasks—flowers confirmed, seating chart finalized, caterer paid. Normal things. Safe things. Things that didn’t ask questions.Ethan’s study door was closed, muted voices drifting through as he spoke on a call. Luke’s laughter echoed faintly from the backyard where the nanny was keeping him busy. Everything was under control. That was what I told myself as I wiped down the kitchen counter for the third time.Then it hit me.The gown.My chest tightened. I froze, fingers gripping the edge of the counter as the realization settled heavily in my stomach. I hadn’t gone for the final fitting. With everything ha