The Billionaire Runaway Heiress Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The cold air of Blackwell Enterprises’ towering skyscraper chilled Isabella Moretti to the bone as she stared at the contract before her. The legal papers were pristine, clinical, and impersonal. The ink on the pages was her fate, her legacy, and her life. She could feel the weight of her family’s expectations pressing down on her like a heavy shroud, but the cold man sitting across from her, Sebastian Blackwell, seemed unfazed.The room was silent except for the faint rustle of papers being shuffled as Sebastian read through the contract. He was perfect in every way—distant, composed, utterly untouchable. It was no wonder her father had chosen him for her. They were a perfect match in a world where emotions were mere distractions.Isabella glanced up at him, her fingers trembling as she reached for the pen. She had always known this day would come. A marriage of convenience. A business transaction disguised as a union. And yet, in this moment, her heart felt like it might break into

The room was bathed in a soft, silvery light, the moon hanging like a witness to the dark promises about to be made. Isabella stood still, her fingers trembling at the hem of her wedding gown, as if she could tear away the reality of what she had just entered. The weight of the dress felt suffocating, a reminder of vows that had been exchanged like currency, with no warmth behind them, only cold promises sealed with indifference.Sebastian hadn’t said much since they left the reception. The silence between them was heavy, unspoken, but palpable. He was a man of control, of dominance, and that tension—thick and suffocating—grew with each passing second. She had entered this room a bride, but she was leaving it something else entirely.His presence loomed in the shadows of the room, a quiet force that enveloped her. It was like he was everywhere, even in the corners of her mind.“You’re scared,” he said, his voice low, almost cruel in its calmness. There was a teasing edge to it, a remi

The rain came down in sheets—icy, merciless—as Isabella stood beneath the flickering light of an old payphone on 39th Street. Her wedding dress clung to her like wet silk, heavy with regret. Her bare feet were numb against the cracked concrete. The line went dead.She stood there, shivering in her soaked silk and secrets, trying not to fall apart. Her lips still tingled with Sebastian’s kiss. Her thighs ached with the ghost of his hands. Her heart screamed with confusion.She could barely feel her fingers as she punched in the number from memory—one she swore she’d forget, and never could.The line clicked.A pause.Then: “Isabella?”His voice was rough. Sleep-drugged. Confused. Still heartbreakingly familiar.She swallowed hard. “Luca…”A beat of silence. Then sharper, faster—“Where are you?”She glanced up at the faded green sign above the bodega across the street. “Corner of 39th and Granger. Near the old theater.”“What the hell—Isabella, are you okay?”“I ran,” she whispered. “I

The room was soaked in golden silence, that strange hush of early morning where everything feels suspended in time. The blinds filtered light in slanted beams, casting lines across the bed where tangled sheets and bodies lay in a fragile, exhausted embrace.Isabella stirred first.Her lashes fluttered. Her limbs were heavy. The weight of what she had done—of who she had chosen, if only for a night—settled over her chest like a stone. Her eyes drifted to the man sleeping beside her, and for a moment, the past and present twisted violently inside her.Luca.His face was peaceful in sleep. The hard lines of his jaw had softened, the furrow in his brow finally eased. He looked younger. Unburdened. Vulnerable, even. She could still feel his touch on her skin—ghostly fingerprints trailing heat down her spine, the memory of his mouth etched onto every curve of her body.But it wasn’t peace that twisted in her gut.It was nausea.Sudden. Violent.She bolted upright, heart hammering, throat ti

The mansion was silent, almost silent save for the steady pulse of the storm against the windows. The wind howled outside, the rain slashing at the glass like a thousand tiny daggers. Sebastian stood in his study, his back to the large wooden desk, staring at the photograph in his hand.It was a simple image, but it felt like a betrayal. Isabella’s lips were on Luca’s, her eyes closed as if she’d forgotten the world around her. She was smiling—something she hadn’t done in a long. time. And Luca. He stood there like he had every right to hold her, to claim her. The image mocked Sebastian. It mocked everything he had fought to build.His knuckles were white from the tight grip he had on the photo. He wasn’t sure if he was angry because of the picture itself or because it reminded him of everything he had lost. The past few weeks of tension and silence between him and Isabella had been unbearable, but he had refused to acknowledge it. He had refused to believe she could go so far.But