Semua Bab Tempting A Billionaire : Bab 61 - Bab 66

Stacey The sun is warm on my skin, filtering softly through the tall trees that surround my grandparents’ garden. I sit on a white iron bench next to Grandma, a knitted shawl draped over my shoulders, even though the afternoon breeze is gentle. My grandfather, always precise with his hands, tends to the roses in the corner with patient focus, humming some old tune I recognize but can’t name.I close my eyes for a moment and breathe it all in—fresh-cut grass, rosemary in the herb beds, the faint clink of a wind chime dangling from the arbor. It’s peaceful here, in a way I haven’t felt in weeks. Maybe months. I open my eyes again and glance at Grandma. She watches me with her usual warm smile, the kind that reaches her eyes, no matter how tired she is.“You’ve come a lon

Juan Pain.That’s the first thing I register when my eyes crack open. The kind that doesn’t scream—it pulses. Deep. Bone-deep. I can’t breathe at first. Smoke, blood, and the sharp sting of twisted metal fill my lungs. Everything around me is dark. My head slams back against the seat, and when I try to move, pain explodes up my leg like someone’s lit it on fire.The airbag is deflated. The windshield—gone. The front of the car looks like it folded in half. I can hear the distant creak of metal, groaning with the weight of gravity and wreckage. I survived the fall.Barely.“Stacey…” I croak out, but my throat is dry. My lips are cracked.

Stacey The cold cuffs bite into my wrists, the metal pressing against skin already bruised by grief. I sit in the back of the police car, rain streaking across the window like the tears I can’t stop shedding. My body trembles, but not from the cold. This can’t be happening.They're accusing me of murdering Juan. My husband. My life. The only man I’ve ever truly loved. How could they even say such a thing? “I didn’t kill him,” I whisper to no one. “I could never...” The officers in the front say nothing. Their silence is louder than any accusation.My mind races with images—Juan smiling at me across our bed, his hand cupping my cheek as he promised to be back early. That soft kiss before he left for the office. His voice on the phone just before the line went dead.He told me he might be late. And then the storm. The crash site. The void.Please don’t be dead, I beg silently. Please, God, don’t take him from me. Not him too. The grief is so raw, I can't breathe through it. I raise my