Semua Bab The Billionaire’s Unexpected Love: Bab 61 - Bab 66

JohnThe morning light cut through the blinds in thin, golden slits. But there was nothing warm about it. John had barely slept. He sat in his office, elbows digging into the mahogany desk, phone on speaker as Elliot’s voice poured through the line.“I went deeper,” Elliot said. “Not just the leaked footage, but the original data. We’ve got a problem.”John’s heart tightened. “How bad?”Elliot didn’t answer immediately. The silence stretched long enough to sting.“It was tampered with. The metadata on the leak says it’s two weeks old, but it was actually created five months ago. Someone scrubbed and re-stamped it.”John’s fingers tapped against the desk. “So the leak was planned. Not accidental.”“Yes. And strategic.”He leaned back in his chair, mind racing. “How the hell did they even get the footage?”Elliot hesitated. “That’s where it gets uglier. I checked your internal surveillance archive. The file was never uploaded to any central cloud. But… your master server had an unlogged

May’s POV I didn’t expect to see his face again. Not on a Tuesday morning. Not on the corner TV mounted above a rusted fridge in the motel common room, flickering between fuzzy news reports and toothpaste ads. But there he was. John Bells, standing behind a podium with the company logo faint in the background. His hair was windswept like he hadn’t slept, suit pressed but eyes clouded. Not the usual titan. Not the billionaire powerhouse. Just a man. Haunted and hollow. The subtitles lagged behind, but I didn’t need them. I could hear him anyway—through the screen, through the ache. “A video surfaced two weeks ago involving myself and May Hemlings. I want to state clearly: May was not at fault. The footage was taken without our consent. We were both unaware of it, and its release was a violation of trust, privacy, and basic humanity.” I swallowed hard. People paused around me, unsure if it was entertainment or politics. To them, it was a headline. To me, it was a

May’s POV I didn’t expect the car. Let alone his driver. Or the fact that John Bells sent it without texting first. But there it was. Polished black with tinted windows and that too-silent hum of wealth, parked outside the motel’s fence like it had any business there. I hesitated with the gate open halfway, the early morning sun casting shadows I wasn’t sure I trusted yet. I could’ve shut the gate. Could’ve walked away. But then the driver stepped out and handed me a note. “It’s time we started again. No titles, no scandals—just you, where you belong. -J” No apology this time. Just… intention. I didn’t pack a bag. I’d barely unpacked here anyway. By the time we reached the city, my stomach twisted with nerves I couldn’t name. I wasn’t going back to the mansion as a nanny. Not even as the bruised girl who got swept into someone else’s mess. I didn’t know who I was walking back as. But I walked in anyway. The foyer was still that brand of cold and clean that made you forget