All Chapters of Affair With My my Ex's Billionaire Father : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Time slowed the second Ivan raised the gun.He didn’t blink.Didn’t flinch.Just stared at me with a hollow kind of peace. Like this had always been the end of the story and I was the only one still pretending otherwise.“No…” I breathed, stepping forward.Too late. BOOM.The shot rang out like thunder bottled in steel. My scream chased it,but it came second.Always second.My baby jerked once in his arms.A small, startled twitch.Then, Still.No cry.No scream.No reaching arms.Just… stillness.The silence that followed was a kind of death all its own.Not loud.Not dramatic.Just a void that swallowed everything.I ran.I think I screamed again, but I couldn’t hear it.There was a high, ringing sound in my head, like a bomb had gone off inside me.Ivan let go.Arms limp.Gun sliding from his fingers to the floor with a dull, final clatter.He didn’t even kneel.He just… unhooked.I caught the baby before he hit the ground.Warm.Still warm.So small.So warm.I dropped to my knees

The light above flickered once.Just once.Like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to witness what came next.I didn’t blame it.This room had seen too much.It reeked of rust and rot and resignation, like the air itself had given up a long time ago.Concrete walls swallowed sound.The corners were damp.Every inch of space carried history in blood splatter patterns and peeling paint.It hadn’t changed.Not since the last time I stood here.When it was my son who bled.Not him.Not the man I once trusted to hold us both.Now?He was the one trembling.Ivan’s body sagged in the chair, slumped and sagging like a puppet with half its strings cut.Breath ragged.Muscles slack.Face torn between exhaustion and terror.I hadn’t cut him again. Not yet.Just that one slice across his thigh, deliberate, clean, a promise.

The dungeon was quiet.Not the kind of quiet that comforts.The kind that breathes. That spreads like damp through stone.It had an echo now. A pulse.I could feel it in the soles of my boots.Every step I took sounded like it was happening somewhere else, in a dream, or a memory, or a graveyard.Ivan looked smaller than I remembered.Hollowed out. Dehydrated.The bravado was gone.The madness, too.Just a man now. Or close enough.But when I entered, when he heard me,his chin lifted.“Emilie,” he rasped, with that half-broken voice I used to mistake for softness.I didn’t speak.I walked forward.The pistol in my hand felt heavier than I expected.Not because of what it meant.But because of what it no longer did.Redemption. Justice. Balance.None of those things lived here.Not anymore.His eyes meet the gun.He didn’t flinc

I didn’t move when the van pulled up. My arms locked over my chest, nails digging crescent moons into my sleeves. My jaw stayed clenched until the ache started to bloom behind my ears. It was either that,or let something leak out.The rear doors creaked open.Two men stepped forward, their movements stiff with quiet precision. No wasted motion. No words exchanged. They reached inside and lifted the casket like they’d done it a hundred times.It didn’t make a sound as they brought it down. No thud. No rattle. Just the whisper of polished wood against metal rails. I used to imagine holding him in my arms. A blanket. A lullaby. His father's eyes. My hands around his tiny body, warm and alive.But this was a different kind of cradle now.It didn’t make a sound as they brought it down. No thud. No rattle. Just the whisper of polished wood against metal rails.I stared at it, waiting for something,anything,to hit. A nois

I gripped the edge of the chair beside me and said the only thing I could. My voice wasn’t a whisper, but it wasn’t strong either. It hung in the air like breath before a scream. “You found me.” Milo didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. He took two steps in, slow and steady, the way you approach a ghost you still love. “You wanted to be found,” he said, voice low. “Even if you don’t want to admit it. Even if part of you still thinks you can outrun the ending.” I stared at him, chest tight. “Wanting to be found isn’t the same as being ready to be seen,” I said. And the silence that followed felt like it cut deeper than anything we’d said in months. I took a step forward. It hurt. Everything hurt,my legs, my back, my pride. But I stood tall anyway, like the ache was just part of the costume. “He was all I had left,” I said. The words felt scraped out of me. “Everyt