Semua Bab Contract Marriage with the Disabled Billionaire : Bab 71 - Bab 80

Isadora’s POVThe courtroom feels like a tomb now.Not in the way that death lingers.But in the way that silence presses against your lungs until breathing becomes an act of will.The jury has been dismissed. Deliberation has begun.And there is nothing else to do but wait.We’re not allowed in the jury room, of course. No one is. But somehow, I feel like I’m in there with them anyway—trapped in a box of my own making, staring at the same pieces of evidence, the same distorted fragments of Darren’s life.The scar.The bottle.The silence.The scar again.They’ll talk about his face. His missing hand. His lack of emotion.They’ll call it cold.They won’t understand it’s survival.Carrington warned us this moment would come quickly.“Once closing arguments are done, they’ll want out,” he said. “They’ve been saturated. Emotional fatigue will set in. They’ll go with what feels safest.”And what feels safest?A man who defended himself?Or the man who looks like he could do it again?I si

Darren’s POVThere’s a strange silence that comes after being told you’re free.It doesn’t feel like celebration.Not at first.It feels like a sudden void—like you’ve been walking for miles with a weight on your back, and someone lifts it without warning. Your spine still curls under the pressure that’s no longer there. You feel it like a ghost.I keep expecting someone to change their mind.To say, “Wait, we’ve made a mistake. We meant guilty.”But they don’t.Because for once, justice did what it was supposed to do.And yet I still don’t know how to be free.The ride away from the courthouse was a blur. Alex sat in the front with the driver. Isadora was beside me, her fingers wrapped so tightly around mine that I could feel her heartbeat through our joined palms. Neither of us spoke.I don’t think we needed to.The moment the verdict was read, I’d seen it in her eyes—relief, yes, but also something else. Something more fragile. A kind of disbelief. As if her soul hadn’t caught up t

Darren’s POVI thought freedom would come all at once.A gasp.A surge of breath.A room filled with light and possibility.But instead, it came in fragments.Moments stitched together by silence.I didn’t walk out of that courthouse a free man.I limped.Not physically.Spiritually.Like every step outside those walls was a question I hadn’t earned the right to answer.And now, two days later, I’m still answering it.With every breath.With every decision.With every choice not to disappear again.The reporters are still outside.Waiting for a soundbite.A confession.A sign that I’m either guilty and smug… or broken and humble.But I’ve decided I’m neither.I’m simply here.Not to please.Not to prove.Just to exist again, on my terms.The morning after the verdict, I woke up before Isadora.I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the lines on my palm. It’s an old habit—something I used to do before board meetings, before surgeries, before I lost my hand.The hand I still dream a

Darren’s POVI didn’t plan to play the piano.I walked past it, just like I’ve done every day since we came back.But today, something stopped me.A hum in the back of my mind.A need I couldn’t name.I lifted the cover without thinking and let my fingers hover over the keys.There was a time I played every night—after the house quieted, after the staff left, when the silence became too loud. Music gave me something to control. A place where every note had a home, and every dissonance resolved.The first note came hesitantly.Then another.Then a slow, fragile rhythm.It wasn’t perfect.But it was mine.When I felt her in the doorway, I didn’t stop.I just played.Let her hear the sound of something returning.Let her hear me—unfiltered, uncertain, but trying.When I finally turned around, she was already smiling.Not because of the music.Because I’d let myself make it again.“I want this to mean something,” I told her.She said it already did.But meaning isn’t given.It’s chosen.A

Isadora’s POVThe headline broke before I could pour a second cup of tea.“BARLOWE TRIAL TWIST: Subpoena Issued for Richard’s Brother in Alleged Murder Conspiracy”I stared at the screen, unable to move.There it was, in sharp black font and sharp-edged language: our worst memories, condensed into three paragraphs and a sensational lead. The article had a photo—an old image from the gala. Richard’s brother standing beside him, just over Darren’s shoulder. His eyes were blurred, but I remembered them clearly. Cold. Watchful. Empty.It didn’t feel real until I saw it in print.I didn’t call for Darren right away. He was still in the shower, and I wanted to spare him a few more moments of peace. God knew he’d earned them.Instead, I sat down at the dining table and read the article twice.Then a third time.Each pass made it worse.The article said “sources close to the case suggest a conspiracy involving multiple parties, including potential attempts to stage the murder as self-defense.