บททั้งหมดของ Surrendering to the Billionaire: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

The moment Amelia stepped into the server room, she knew something was wrong. The air inside the server room was colder than expected, refrigerated, dry, humming with quiet menace. The cold, metallic hum of machinery should have been the only sound, but her instincts screamed otherwise.  Amelia’s eyes swept the walls lined with steel racks and blinking blue lights. Every step forward felt like threading a needle through a tripwire. Adrian moved ahead, crouching at a terminal. “This is it,” he muttered, pulling a slim black device from his jacket pocket and inserting it into a port. “Marcus said we have three minutes, tops. This is too easy,” he murmured. “Exactly,” she whispered. 

The door burst open. Amelia flinched at the sound, heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her eyes strained in the low light, unsure if what she was seeing was real. Not Sophie. Not the guard. Adrian. His silhouette cut through the red haze like a blade. Tactical gear clung to his frame, eyes wild with fury, jaw clenched tight enough to crack. He stormed in, gun raised, and dropped the guard before the man could even react. The body hit the floor with a hollow thud. His chest heaved, eyes wild, frantic like a man starved for air who’d just broken the surface. "Amelia," Adrian said, the word rough and desperate, like it had been

The morning after was slow. The dream was soft at first.  Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden shadows across the hardwood floors of the penthouse. The city was already buzzing, but the world inside Adrian Black’s fortress of steel and glass remained quiet, insulated, cocooned. Amelia blinked awake to warmth, and the familiar scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets. Adrian wasn’t in the bed, but the dent in the mattress and the rumpled state of the pillows beside her said he hadn’t gone far. She sat up slowly, her body still aching in ways that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with memory. She wrapped herself in a silky robe, one of Adrian’s, of course, oversized and impossibly soft. Amelia walked barefo

The sun had barely crested over the horizon when the jet touched down on a private airstrip just outside Montauk. The sky was streaked with tangerine and rose, soft colors belying the tension that crackled between Amelia and Adrian like an invisible wire strung too tight. The air felt too still. The sound of the ocean was different here. It wasn’t wild or unruly like the crashing waves of the Pacific, nor soft and lulling like the gentle Mediterranean tides. It had a cadence, rhythmic and powerful, like a pulse just beneath the earth’s skin. Adrian stepped out first, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare. The ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he turned back to offer Amelia his hand. She took it, descending the jet stairs with her heels clicking softly against the metal. She looked impossibly elegant in a black wrap

Zurich was too clean for a battlefield. The air in Zurich was razor-thin and electric. That thought rang clear in Amelia’s mind as the plane descended. The city glittered below them like a jewel, crisp lines, snow-dusted rooftops, polished streets that whispered of order and discretion. But beneath it all was rot. Rot that wore bespoke suits and traded lives. Voss. Adrian didn’t speak much on the flight. He sat beside her, fingers steepled, eyes locked on a silent tablet streaming satellite feeds and intercepted radio chatter. Amelia didn’t need him to say anything. The silence between them now wasn’t absence, it was focus. They’d said all the things that mattered. The rest would be written in action.