Redeemed by the billionaire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

The sky outside faded from lavender to deep indigo, stars beginning to puncture the darkness overhead. Inside the chalet, golden light pooled across the rustic wooden kitchen like melted butter. The space was quiet except for the soft clatter of cabinet doors and the subtle rhythm of jazz music curling from a speaker perched near the window.Sophie stood in front of the open refrigerator, arms folded, head tilted. "There's way too much food for just three days."Alexander leaned against the counter, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Camellia stocked it like we were prepping for winter.”She pulled out a head of garlic, a container of cherry tomatoes, and a bundle of fresh basil, setting them on the counter. “Pasta?”“Pasta,” he confirmed. “With an unnecessarily elegant salad.”Sophie glanced at him sideways. “How elegant are we talking?”“Let’s say—salad with pecans and that smug kind of cheese that crumbles dramatically.”She laughed and set to work

The hallway was hushed.Soft shadows danced along the stone floor, filtered through the tall, arched windows of the Burnett estate. The light outside had turned a golden amber, casting a warm hue over the portraits of long-gone ancestors and the white garden lilies blooming beneath the ledges.Inside the bridal corridor, time had slowed.Sophie stood just before the entrance to the east garden, a few feet from the ornate double doors that would open to reveal her to the world — and to him. She didn’t tremble. Didn’t shift her weight from one foot to the other. She stood steady, as if the moment had long belonged to her.Camellia crouched behind her, fixing a final angle of the train. With precision and silent focus, she lifted a layer, tucked an edge, and then rose. No words were needed. The moment was sacred now.Freya stood near the large side window, her reflection shimmering against the glass, watching her daughter quietly. Her hands were folded in front of her, fingers laced. The

The applause faded as Sophie and Alexander returned to their table.The first dance had left a hush hanging in the garden — not silence, but reverence. Something sacred had passed through the space, and now the world resumed in softer, slower rhythms.Guests returned to their conversations. The quartet shifted into a mellow tune, encouraging more couples onto the dance floor. Camellia, clipboard in hand, moved efficiently between tables, checking lighting angles and coordinating the next sequence with staff through her earpiece.Sophie took a small sip of champagne, her eyes following the flickering candlelight that danced across the glasses.Alexander sat beside her, one arm draped loosely over the back of her chair, his hand casually grazing her shoulder. She didn’t lean away.“Did it go how you imagined?” he asked.Sophie’s eyes stayed on the dance floor, watching as an older couple swayed gently in the corner.“Better,” she replied. “It felt… real. Like something that doesn’t need

The golden light had deepened.It wasn’t just morning now — it was late morning. The kind where the world outside had already begun its rhythm, but inside their villa, time seemed to obey a different pace.Sophie stretched out again on the bed, sheets brushing against her bare skin, the fabric cool and luxurious. Alexander had stepped away for just a moment — she could hear the soft sound of running water in the bathroom and the occasional shift of wood underfoot.The shirt she wore still smelled like him.A mix of cologne, salt from the ocean air, and something uniquely Alexander — warmth and cedar and the trace of last night’s closeness. She smoothed the cuff down her wrist and turned toward the terrace again.The view was no less stunning in daylight. A distant fishing boat moved slowly across the horizon, its white sail a small triangle against the vast stretch of blue. The water shimmered like glass, and far below, the cliffside garden bristled with pink bougainvillea.A door ope

The city woke slowly.Muted bells rang in the distance. Somewhere down the narrow street, a baker opened his shutters and arranged golden croissants in the window. Paris, in all its timeless rhythm, moved like a quiet breath through the streets below.Inside their suite, Sophie lay beneath a linen sheet, bathed in soft light. The warmth from the morning sun glowed across her skin as she blinked awake, her lashes fluttering against her cheek.She didn’t move immediately. She only stared at the ceiling and listened.There was something about mornings here — an elegance in the silence, like the world knew to be gentle. Beside her, Alexander was still asleep, arm draped across her waist, his breath steady and slow.She turned slightly to watch him.How strange, she thought, that the man who once existed on the edge of her life — cold, distant, unreachable — now lay inches from her, curled around her like he’d always belonged there.And maybe he had.Maybe they’d been writing toward this m