The Billionaire Trap のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

Mr. Richards POV Two months have passed, and the walls still smell of rust and mold. The light that slips through the bars comes thin, almost embarrassed to touch me. I’ve stopped counting the days. In here, time isn’t a straight line — it’s a dull circle, dragging itself through the same dirt-stained hours. Morning means noise, afternoon means hunger, night means remembering.They gave us one meal a day, something gray that tastes of nothing. I used to complain about the food at my company dinners. Now I lick every trace from the tin bowl and still feel empty. The guards don’t speak much to me anymore. They look at me like a ghost that hasn’t realized it’s dead yet. Maybe they’re right.At night, when the lights go out and the shouts fade, I whisper her name.Sophia.The sound of it still hurts my throat, as if even the air refuses to forgive me. I see her in every dream. Not the child she once was, with ribbons in her hair and sugar on her cheeks, but the woman she became — tired,

Sophia’s POV The road was silent. Only the wind moved through the trees, carrying the sound of my footsteps as I walked up the narrow path that led to Mrs. Stevens’ house. It was small — pale walls, a faded porch, a lonely chair that creaked in the breeze. Nothing about it looked like the kind of place that could hold the answers I’d been chasing all my life.I hesitated at the door. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. I didn’t even know what I wanted from her — truth, comfort, maybe just a reason to believe that everything hadn’t been a waste.When she opened the door, she smiled — that kind of gentle, tired smile that felt like it had seen too much but still chose kindness.“You must be Sophia,” she said softly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”Her voice had a warmth reassurance I didn’t expect. I nodded, unsure how to start. She motioned for me to come in.Inside, the house smelled faintly of chamomile and old books. The furniture was worn but clean, and a little

Zack's POV The room stood quiet, too quiet. Only the fire spoke — the soft crackle of burning wood, the occasional hiss when a log split open. I sat there, half-buried in the leather chair, my hand wrapped around a glass of whisky that had long stopped warming me. The flames kept dancing, but they didn’t give any comfort. They just reminded me of what I’d lost. Sophia’s face lived inside that fire. Every flicker looked like the shape of her smile, and every spark dying out felt like one of her fading breaths. I didn’t blink. I couldn’t. The heat on my skin was the only thing that made me feel alive.I took another sip. It bit hard at my throat, sharp, punishing. Maybe I wanted that. Maybe pain was the only thing that made sense anymore. Two months. That’s how long it had been since everything collapsed — the mansion, the lies, her. Two months since I’d stopped sleeping properly, since I’d stopped trying to wash her scent out of my hands. My father’s parlor still smelled of old power

Sophia POVThe room froze the second I stepped in.Silence didn’t just fall — it crashed.Every eye turned to me as my heels clicked against the marble, echoing through the long, suffocating conference room. White suit. Straight posture. Controlled breath. My heart thundered beneath the calm mask, but my face? Cold. Sculpted. Unreadable.Alex’s smirk was the first thing to break through that still air. “Well, look who crawled out of the gutter! I didn't know rats were invited to this family meeting!” he said, his eyes trying to pierce through my soul like he owned my existence. “Sophia Buckleman, huh? You thought it'd be funny to come here with your pathetic suit and try to convince us all that you stole the name of the richest family on the West Side?! YOU'RE MORE STUPID THAN I THOUGHT AND I DON'T HAVE ANY TIME TO PLAY YOUR SHITTY GAMES.”I didn’t flinch. I walked right past Zack, right past the lawyer, and stopped at the head of the table — his seat. The one that used to belong to M

Sophia's POV The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the mansion like a thousand tiny fists, each drop a reminder of the storm raging outside, and the one brewing inside me. I paced the marble floors, my bare feet cold against the polished stone, my silk robe clinging to my skin in all the wrong ways. The mansion felt too big, too empty, the echoes of my footsteps swallowed by the high ceilings. My dad, Rae and my mom stayed at home while I was at one of my mansions out of town. My mind was a whirlwind of fury and need, a toxic cocktail that burned through my veins. Zack. Just thinking his name made my stomach twist, my thighs clench. I hated him. I wanted him. I couldn’t decide which was worse. The thunder cracked so violently the windows trembled, and I jumped, my breath hitching. My reflection in the glass was a ghost—wild hair, flushed cheeks, lips parted as if I’d been kissing someone. But there was no one here. Just me and the memory of his hands on my body, hi