Semua Bab The love that killed me, The Billionaire who saved me : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Backstory Part One — Jane’s POVThey say you remember pain like it’s branded onto your skin. That even when the wound heals, the memory of it lingers just beneath the surface. Mine wasn’t just a wound—it was a series of deep, invisible bruises that never really stopped aching. I remember the day everything began to spiral.It was raining. I remember that clearly.Not the light, misty kind, but the type that makes the earth shudder beneath it. The clouds were an ominous gray, cloaking our once-lively house in a film of gloom. The air felt too quiet, like the world was holding its breath.Back then, my name was Rose Stadler. I wore it with pride. I was the girl with the big dreams, the hopeful smile, the laughter that filled every corner of the house. People used to say I had a light in me. Maybe that was true—once.John was in the garage, fiddling with his old radio like he always did when he was anxious. Lucy was in her room, her favorite hoodie draped over her knees, eyes glued to so

Chapter 23 — Backstory Part Three — Jane’s POVThe summer I received my admission into law school should have been one of the happiest times of my life. It should have been the culmination of all the hard work, the late nights spent reading through case law, the relentless drive to prove to myself—and to the world—that I could do it. That I could be someone who mattered in the world of justice. A woman who could make her mark.But in reality, it was the beginning of the end.Everything that had been so perfectly aligned started to unravel in subtle ways. The cracks weren’t glaring at first—they were just little things. A sideways glance from Dad when I spoke of my future, as if he were trying to hide something behind his eyes. The way Mom stopped telling me stories of her past in Germany. The way Lucy started to come home later and later, always with an excuse about work, her internship, or her friends. And John—John had grown up so fast that it made my heart ache. He was no longer th

The day I turned 18 felt like the beginning of a new chapter, a fresh start. But I had no idea just how much it would change my life, how the decisions I would make in the next few weeks would irrevocably alter everything I had known.Daniel Crestwell was no stranger to me. He was known for his brilliance, his ability to resurrect dying companies and make them thrive again. At first, it seemed like the perfect match—he had a reputation for being a savior in the corporate world, a man with a vision and an iron will. The kind of person who didn’t back down from challenges. And for someone like me, who felt as if she were drowning in her family’s debts, the thought of being with someone like him seemed like the lifeline I so desperately needed.My parents, too, had been drawn to him. He had made them promises—promises that he could save their company, that he could restore their family’s legacy. In exchange for his efforts, they were willing to allow him into our lives, not just as a par

"You've been saying that for close to a year now. Tomorrow makes it exactly one year since you woke from that coma, but you still don't want to take that bold step." Diego’s voice cut through the silence, low and firm. He paused, his gaze locking onto Jane. "The other day when you went missing... you tried to harm yourself. You did things, Jane."Jane turned away, tears drying on her cheek as she rolled her eyes with a bitter scoff. "You think it's so easy, right? Some days I’m happy. Some days I just want to find them and kill them both. But then I think of my sister’s child—Nathan. And I can’t help but feel soft."Diego moved closer, his expression hard. “Did they think of you when they pushed you off that rooftop? Did they care then? You spent years lying in a hospital bed while your so-called mate fulfilled his dreams—his plans. While Lucy played the perfect assistant.” His voice cracked with restrained emotion. “And you’re talking about feeling soft?”Jane flinched at the truth o

The corridor leading to the public records office smelled of stale air and forgotten stories. Jane walked slowly, her steps measured, yet her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The fluorescent lights buzzed above her head. Each flicker echoed the pounding in her chest. Behind her, Jullie walked with a crisp, professional pace, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor like a metronome keeping time with Jane's dread.The receptionist barely looked up. “Name?”Jullie answered before Jane could. “Jane fransica Stadler.”There was a pause — not of recognition, but of confusion. The receptionist’s fingers stilled above the keyboard. “You must be mistaken.”“I’m her attorney,” Jullie said, sliding a folder across the counter. “We’re here to begin the process of correcting an erroneous death registration.”The woman stared at Jane. “That’s… not possible.”“It is,” Jullie replied coolly. “Rare, but not impossible.”They were sent to a back room, where a thin man with wire-rim glasses