บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Maxwell’s POVThe papers lay scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. I crouched to gather them, my hands moving faster than my mind, as though if I stacked them neatly again, the world itself would fall back into order. But no matter how I smoothed the creases, the words felt thinner each time I read them. Ink and promises against something that didn’t belong in any courtroom.The lamp was dead, Amelia stood pale by the window, and the only sound in the room was the scratch of my breath. My chest rose and fell too quickly. I hated that she had seen it, my hands shaking, my voice breaking.I told myself it didn’t matter. That as long as I kept moving, as long as I kept trying, I could still find a way to protect her. Protect Lila. Protect all of us.But Victoria was right about one thing: paper burned easily.I stacked the custody documents in a pile, staring down at the thick black typeface. Plaintiff. Defendant. Child of the union. Words I thought could bind her to us. I press

Maxwell’s Pov The house was too quiet without Amelia. The silence wasn’t peaceful; it was heavy, pressing in from every corner like it wanted me to crumble.I sat at the desk, staring at the drawer where the custody papers hid. My hand hovered over the handle, but I couldn’t bring myself to open it again. Those pages mocked me now, ink, paper, and signatures pretending to be shields. I’d read them a hundred times, clung to them as if they were a fortress, but Victoria had slipped right through me anyway.For the first time, I wondered if running was the only answer. Taking Lila. Taking Amelia. Disappearing. No lawyers, no courts. Just gone. The thought burned in my head like a fever.But even as it formed, my thoughts pushed through.And how long before she finds you?My fists clenched. I hated how close I was to breaking.I stood, pacing the length of the office. The window reflected my face at me—pale, drawn, haunted. I almost didn’t recognize the man staring back. He looked beaten

Amelia POV Lila’s room was too neat. Too still.I sat on the edge of her bed, the pink blanket tucked perfectly where she’d left it, the dolls lined up in a row like quiet sentries. The air smelled faintly of her lavender lotion and crayons, as if her laughter might echo out of the walls if I just listened hard enough.But there was no laughter. Just silence. A silence that pressed into me until my chest felt tight, my throat raw.I reached for the little stuffed rabbit she always carried to sleep, smoothing my hand over its frayed ear. My fingers trembled. How long had it been since she curled up in this bed, whispering goodnight with her small, drowsy voice? Days? Weeks? Time blurred when every moment without her felt like an eternity.I missed her.I missed her so much it hollowed me out.I pressed the rabbit to my chest, rocking slightly. “Lila,” I whispered, like the name might pull her back to me.But the room stayed empty.And with the emptiness came the thoughts I couldn’t si

Maxwell POV Amelia thought I didn’t notice the way her eyes followed me lately, lingering too long when I slipped out of a room, narrowing when I came back late, searching me like she could read the secrets I refused to spill. She was right to doubt me—but for the wrong reasons.It wasn’t because I was wavering. It was because I was planning.And this time, Amelia couldn’t be part of it.I couldn’t risk her. Not when the weight of one mistake could shatter everything.The office felt like a redoubt now. Papers spread across the desk, scribbled notes, numbers, routes. Surveillance footage flickered across the screen, the angles grainy but enough to tell me one thing: Victoria’s reach was closer than ever.I leaned back, rubbing my temples. The silence in the house pressed in, heavy, accusing. Amelia probably thought I was pulling away, keeping her at arm’s length again. And she wasn’t wrong. But it wasn’t distance for the sake of pride this time—it was protection.If she knew the leng

Amelia POV The distance between us wasn’t measured in steps or walls. It was in silence. In the way Maxwell avoided my eyes, in the way he left the room just as I entered, in the way the air seemed to thicken whenever I reached for him and found only the shadow of the man I loved.I sat at the edge of the bed, twisting the hem of my shirt, waiting for his footsteps. The clock ticked louder than my breathing, each second dragging like an accusation. He’d been in his office again too long, too quiet. That office had become his fortress, and I was the intruder knocking at locked doors.When he finally appeared, his tie loosened, his jaw rigid, I felt my chest tighten. My hands curled into fists on my lap to keep them from trembling. I forced my voice steady. “Maxwell… we need to talk.”He paused at the doorway, wary, like I had laid a trap he wasn’t sure how to avoid. His gaze swept over me, but it was distant, guarded. “About what?”“Don’t,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.