Все главы Mr Billionaire's Regret: Ex-wife Returns With His Triplets.: Глава 191 - Глава 200

“Mason,” I said into the phone, “tell me you’ve got eyes on him.”“I’ve got more than eyes,” Mason replied, his voice a low growl under the hum of a car engine. “I’ve got a visual, a location, and a cup of bad coffee that’s doing a great job at keeping me awake. Your boy Keats is at a little safehouse off Route 47. The place looks like a forgotten hunting lodge. Curtains drawn. No movement except him and—”He paused.“And what?” I pushed.“And a shadow in the upstairs window that isn’t his. Could be nothing. Could be trouble.”I leaned back in my chair, staring at the faint reflection of myself in the office window. The skyline behind me was losing its light, turning into black shapes against an orange sky. “Stay on him. Don’t spook him. I’m heading out.”“Are you sure about that?” Mason asked. “Guy’s cagey. If he thinks we’re moving in, he might bolt.”“I’m sure,” I answered. “Keats has been running long enough. Time to put a leash on him.”By the time I reached Mason’s location, th

“Where did you hear that?” I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles hurt.Caleb’s voice crackled through the line, low and urgent. “A source says Keats is being moved tonight. No idea where, or who’s moving him, but it’s happening now.”“Being moved where?” I asked, already grabbing my coat.“That’s the part they didn’t stick around to tell me. Helen… this isn’t a game. Whoever’s got him doesn’t want him talking to you, to the press, or to anyone else.”“Which is exactly why I need to get to him first,” I shot back.There was a pause, then Caleb’s sigh. “At least tell me you’re not going alone.”I hung up before I could lie.The safehouse was in one of those parts of the city where streetlights flickered like they were tired of their own job, and the only open businesses were liquor stores with metal grates. The building Caleb had pinned for Keats looked like it had been abandoned twice — once by its tenants, then by the landlord.I kept to the shadows, my hood up, the air thick wi

I waited for Jace in the quiet corner of the café, my fingers drumming against the ceramic mug I hadn’t touched. My stomach was twisted tight, half nerves, half dread. He hadn’t answered my calls for days. The only reason he agreed to meet now was because I’d cornered him with a text that sounded almost like begging.The door chimed, and there he was — baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses even though the place was dim, hoodie zipped up like he wanted to vanish. He didn’t look at me right away, just scanned the room, his jaw set, like someone walking into an interrogation.When his eyes finally landed on me, there was no warmth. No trace of the guy who used to make me laugh even when everything else in my life was falling apart.He slid into the booth across from me without a word.“Hi,” I said softly, testing the air between us.His answer was a flat, “Let’s make this quick.”My chest tightened. “Jace…”He cut me off, voice low but sharp. “Do you even realize what you’ve done to me?”

The room smelled like leather and old wood polish, the kind of place where secrets thrived. Jack always chose settings like this—dimly lit, private, designed to remind me who held the power. His office wasn’t grand, not in the way Ashton’s was. No glass walls or skyline views, but of course, Jack didn’t need them. His strength wasn’t on display, it was in the shadows.I sat across from him, spine straight, fingers knotted in my lap. Every time I saw him, I swore I wouldn’t let him rattle me. Every time, he managed to anyway.He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the faint glow of the lamp. “You’ve been quiet,” he said finally, his voice calm. Too calm. “Not like you.”“I’ve been managing things,” I replied carefully.“Managing?” He raised a brow, almost amused. “Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m sitting, Ashton looks… distracted. Slipping. And you? You don’t seem to have quite the same grip on him as you used to.”Heat rose in my chest. “Ashton still tru

The words felt solid. Final.For the first time in months, I didn’t feel powerless, I felt dangerous.And that was the beginning of Rose’s end.******The living room was quiet except for the soft hum of the lamp and the steady rustle of papers beneath my hands. The wall I’d built with Caleb’s help was growing, photos, receipts, scribbled notes connected by red lines, forming a messy spiderweb of Rose’s secrets.I was halfway through cross-checking travel records when my daughter’s small voice cut through the silence.“Mommy?”I barely looked up. “Hmm?”Kate stood at the doorway, her little face scrunched in that stubborn pout she’d inherited from me. Her brown hair was a tangled halo around her head, pajamas wrinkled, clutching a pink stuffed rabbit in one hand.“Blake took my toy. The blue truck. He won’t give it back.”I exhaled, rubbing my temple. “Not now, Kate.”“But Mommy—” She walked closer, her tiny bare feet pattering against the hardwood — “he said it’s his now. But it’s m