บททั้งหมดของ Betrayed By Husband And Son: Rise Of A Billionaire Wife : บทที่ 161 - บทที่ 170

Adele~Well, they wouldn't tell me who she was, which meant that I'd only see her once Ethan was discharged. As for the Open Week Festival, I was looking forward to it, I swear, I was, but unfortunately I missed it. But we could host any other one again in the future, considering that this one was a massive success.The Open Week Festival had boosted our resort beyond anything we'd ever dared to dream. Emily and Sarah said the guests we hosted were more than a hundred thousand. The resort and its surroundings weren't enough to accommodate them, but with my assistant’s quick thinking, we managed to arrange lodging for the international guests who flew in, in nearby towns and even rented cruise liners to dock along the coast. It turned into something bigger than anyone had imagined.Emily said the entire weekend felt like a dream with music, color, art, food, laughter. Cultures colliding, businesses shaking hands, memories being made. She said our name was being spoken in languages I c

Adele~Mia’s smile shifted then, no longer soft, no longer veiled in false kindness. It hardened, sharpened, until the cafeteria itself seemed to bend around her presence. This was the Mia Harrington everyone bowed to, the untouchable heiress who’d been born with the world at her feet.“I knew you were stubborn,” she said smoothly, her voice now edged with steel. “But your stubbornness has already put your son in the ground—or close to it. And now, you want to drag Leigh down like you did that boy and your ex-husband?”The words pierced me before I could even build a wall. My throat closed, and for a breath, my chest hollowed like she’d scooped the air out of me.She saw it. She knew she’d struck blood. I shouldn't give her the pleasure of seeing me cracking but I couldn't do it. “You know nothing about me.” My voice hardened, and my eyes flared, fierce and unyielding. “You think you can scare me with threats, with whispers of danger, with your perfect little stories? I’ve stared dea

Adele~ Towards evening, I received a parcel from St. Claire hospital in regards to Silver and Detroit's DNA test. Staring down at the brown envelope, I was tempted to open it, but it wasn't mine to open, so I left it on my seat and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. ‘So now what, Adele?’ I asked myself. What's the best way to make Julia and Ryan suffer without having blood on my hands? It was easier to send a hitman after them, extract information from them through torture and blow their brains out. I swear, it was tempting. But God forbid I stain my hands with their blood. God forbid I give them a quick death. I want them to suffer. I mean really suffer. Not the kind of suffering that comes from pain that fades in hours, but the kind that eats into their marrow, day after day, until they wish death would take them, and still, it doesn’t. So, what should I do? Hmm…get Roman to divorce Julia? Of course I would. Whether they liked it or not, they must get divorced. I refus

Trigger Warning: These chapter is messy. Read with care. ***Detroit~The West main mansion was vast with tens of bedrooms, mini living rooms for each wing, and a massive major living room, mostly occupied by maids cleaning or Silver painting, but at this hour of the night, not a single buzz could be heard, let alone a soul wandering.Yet, at a time like this, when evil spirits were roaming the kitchen searching for leftovers, Detroit West was seated in a dark room, merging with the darkness.Click!The lighter flicked open. Flame sparked to life, dancing against the shadows, illuminating the sharp edges of his face.The flames died when he released his thumb.Click!It came back alive once more, brightening his profile. The sound of the clicking lighter in a deadly quiet and dark room was enough to squeeze fear out of even the bravest soul, let alone someone who just stirred awake from her sleep. The bedside light snapped on, her hand simultaneously reaching under her pillow. In a

Detroit~ Minutes later, after cleaning her wound, Detroit finally saw the level of damage he had inflicted. The cut ran jagged and deep across her cheek, raw enough that infection would set in if left alone. It needed stitches badly. Yet he refused to send her to the hospital. There were too many inconveniences involved in that. Firstly, it was too public. Reporters camped around the West name like vultures, and the slightest whisper of ‘Mrs. Lorraine West hospitalized’ would stir the markets, rattle the board, and wake his lying enemies, who'd think he was too distracted ‘seeking justice’ for his mother. Secondly, he didn’t trust a single doctor not to run their mouth. And lastly… he didn’t want anyone else’s hands on her wound. So, he threaded the needle himself. Mrs. Lorraine stiffened when she saw the glint of steel between his fingers. “Leighton, don’t you—” “Hold still.” His tone was even, steady as his grip on her jaw. “I won’t repeat myself.” The needle pierced her sk