Semua Bab Married To The Crippled Billionaire : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Dario POVSilence reverberates through the marble hallways of the estate, a chilly reminder of Layla's absence. She has been a ghost for a month, sneaking out at dawn to see Dave or working at Harmony Haven's miserable front desk, her trainers squeaking against the flooring to keep me at bay. Our conversations are brief, terse nods over breakfast, courteous whispers when Andrew takes her to the hospital, her eyes flitting from mine. Sometimes I see her in the corridor, a shadow, her hazel eyes wary, suspicions etched into her scowl. It pierces deeper than I acknowledge; she has created a wall that I am unable to overcome.With my hands holding the rims until my knuckles hurt, I wheel through the estate, the buzz of my chair a lonely rhythm. Her avoidance is a slow poison that erodes the tenuous bond we've held since our marriage, but I don't want to force her to face me out of pride or fear, I'm not sure which. My phone buzzes as I'm in my study, with contracts and a half-empty glass

Layla Pov To get to know him without fear, I wanted to go with the flow. So I thought we could start simply by having breakfast together. With sunlight pouring through large windows and warming the polished oak floor, the dining area felt like a welcoming haven. The aroma of a vase of lilies on the table blended with the richness of the freshly brewed coffee. Across from the dining room, a modern kitchen counter shined, a coffee maker, and a basket of croissants resting on its marble surface. With his wheelchair hidden away in a corner, its frame gleaming in the sun, Dario relaxed on a soft grey couch near the dining table. His wide shoulders were embraced by his classic navy shirt, which was genuine and not a copycat. The sleeves were pulled up, which lessened his often intense demeanor.My heart skipped a beat when his dark hair was a little disheveled, and his deep eyes scanned a tablet with quiet intent. As I walked across to the kitchen counter, I remarked, "Good morning," in a

As I stared into Dario's study's silent glow, my heart lurched as his eyes locked with mine. I had been preoccupied with him, not the Child Psychology book on my lap, but with his powerful jaw and the way his old grey shirt embraced his shoulders. I attempted to hide it, furrowing my forehead as though I was thinking deeply, but his gentle, playful tone broke through my armor. "Is that book difficult for you?" he inquired, examining my unread pages. "How about looking it up online?" I felt a heat crawl up my neck and my cheeks burned as his eyes twinkled, as if he knew I had been daydreaming. This man had exposed my deception, and my weak-to-strong arc was telling me to defend myself as my thoughts frantically searched for a way out.I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and mumbled, "Uh, yeah," speaking too quickly. It's a thick book. The Internet is most likely superior. Although it was clear that I was nervous, Dario's smile broadened and his laughter was sympathetic rather than mo

I awoke to the gentle hum of the estate while golden striations appeared on my quilted bedspread as sunshine filtered through the gauzy curtains. The sound of morning birds beckoned me to get out of bed, and I felt lighter today, with the comfort of breakfast and study sessions with Dario clinging to me like a silent pledge. As I stretched, my bare feet grazing the soft blanket, a mixture of excitement and scepticism flickered through my mind: Can I believe this sensation? In order to enhance my confidence, I wore tailored pants with a simple yet elegant fit and a cream shirt with a silky texture that felt good against my skin for Harmony Haven. My fingers were lingering over a hair tie when I stopped at the mirror. Although tying it felt secure and in control, I wanted to let things happen naturally and keep Dario's warmth. My weak-to-strong arc stirred as I wore my hair loose, its waves grazing my shoulders as a sign of openness. Under the large windows, the kitchen's spotless workt

I leaned back, a playful glint in my eye. “A celebrity, huh? Next time we’re in public, you’ll need shades,” I teased, giggling, picturing him in dark sunglasses, dodging fans. He raised an eyebrow, his smile sly. “Same with you now, Mrs. Harrison. You’re my wife—fame comes with the package.” I laughed, swatting his arm. “Oh, wow, silly me to forget!” The banter felt light, our connection deepening, my fear of public eyes softening in his humor.As we shared the bruschetta, his fingers brushed mine, a spark of warmth igniting. “You’re quick,” I said, popping it in my mouth, my laugh bubbling up, surprising me with its ease. This is me, laughing, I thought, my weak-to-strong arc shining. We talked more—Mia’s “math party” plans, my sushi love, his taco obsession, our late-night texts’ ease flowing. “Mia wants prize stickers,” I said, grinning. “Boardroom tips?” His “Bribe them with tacos” drew a giggle, his deep laugh filling the café.The world faded as the café's brightness and the hu