All Chapters of Claiming the billionaire ceo genius baby: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Alistair stopped near a table and scanned the room, his gaze drawn to the worn chairs and chipped coffee mugs that felt both familiar and alien. "You're from her past," Alistair said in a hushed voice. The stranger smiled and sat down in a chair. "I come from a time you forgot." From a time that has been forgotten. Alistair stopped moving and his heart raced. He felt a cold shudder go down his back. "What are you talking about?" The visitor didn't say anything, but he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded picture. He put it on the table in front of Alistair. "Do you know her?" Alistair looked down at the picture, and his breath caught in his throat. The image was old and the edges were worn down. It was him, younger, next to Belle. They were smiling—really, truly, and almost unrecognisably happy. But it was them, and you could see their love in the moment they shared. His hands shook as he grabbed for the picture. "I don't remember this," he said in a voice that wa

"Belle..." he whispered, the name falling from his lips like a prayer, a desperate need that resonated in the room's silence. It was his face, but something was wrong with it. He felt like his memory was cloudy, like it had been wiped clean, but bits of a life he had long forgotten kept coming back to him. The sound of people laughing. The warmth of a touch. The smooth, unmistakable fact that she was there. A kiss. The recollection hit him hard, and his heart raced. He could practically feel her kisses on his, the way she held his hands, and the weight of the promises they made in the middle of the night. But then it was gone. Gone. A future taken away, either by time or something worse. He shook his head vigorously and said, "No." "I need to remember." He put his palm on the mirror, as if the surface could somehow bring her back to him. His heart raced and he started to panic. "Who are you?" he questioned, his voice strained and nearly begging. The mirror didn't give any answe

Alistair's heart raced as he stepped onto the huge platform, the gala's excitement fading to a hushed silence. The warm lighting made the room look golden, and the velvet curtains behind him hung like a veil. People that were there stood still with their eyes on him, waiting. Every part of him shouted "command," and every stride had a purpose. He saw Belle in the crowd, standing with her hands clasped in front of her and a weak grin on her lips. As soon as their eyes connected, he felt a rush of clarity wash over him. This was it. No more games, no more hiding. He cleared his throat, and the microphone made his voice louder. "Belle Kensington is my only wife tonight," I said. His words echoed in the room, and the air seemed to hold its breath. It was so quiet after that. Guests spoke like waves, but Alistair didn't move. He couldn't take his eyes off Belle, who seemed shocked and amazed at the same time. He could feel her heart beating in time with his. Lady Kensington's deadly gl

Alistair sat shifted over the old family archives, the musty odour of worn paper and ink permeating the poorly lighted room. He turned the yellowed pages quickly, his mind racing. The family's past was always a mix of riches, power, and tradition. But when he read the material, something didn't feel right—his stomach was uneasy. Alexander Kensington, his father, was always someone he thought was a good leader and a man of his word. But these records told a different story. He stopped on a page that had a symbol on it that he didn't know. He read the sentences out loud, and his eyes got bigger. His voice was just above a whisper. "Alexander Kensington... he's been in charge all along." His palm shook as he reached for the next page, and the pieces of a grim puzzle started to fit together. His father had planned more than simply their family's climb to prominence; he had controlled every move and every choice. Alistair could feel the weight of the news bearing down on him, making it h

"They make quite the pair," Bernard muttered, his gaze tightening as Alistair's arm wrapped protectively around Belle's shoulders. "How could I have let this happen?" The door behind him creaked open, and Julian, his trusted counsel, came in. He could feel the weight of his own anger settle in his chest, like a stone weighing down. "You're not going to win her heart, Bernard," Julian murmured, his voice tinted with the knowing that annoyed Bernard so much. "I didn't ask for your opinion," Bernard said angrily. He looked at the couple outside again. "But it's true, isn't it? They've already taken what was mine. Julian shrugged his shoulders. "You didn't fight for her when you had the chance." Alistair did. Bernard's fists clenched. "I can't win her over now, can I?" His voice was so low that it sounded like he was whispering, yet there was a hint of bitterness in it. He looked at them for a while longer, his eyes burning with an intensity that showed how determined he was. "But t