The Billionaire's Sunshine のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Lillium RooseveltThe door shut behind us with a soft click, sealing in a cocoon of glass, warmth, and muted tension. James’s footsteps were quiet against the carpet, but mine echoed in my chest—heavy, unsure. The VIP lounge was sleek and quiet, outfitted with tall windows that offered a panoramic view of the drift track below. The whole circuit was bathed in sharp lights and shadowy curves, the smell of fuel barely muted by the thick walls. Beyond the glass, Adam's world roared to life.And he was somewhere down there in it.I walked straight to the window, drawn like a magnet. My hands pressed lightly against the cold pane as my eyes scanned the pits, the idle cars, the winding snake of asphalt wrapped in floodlights. I looked for black. For movement. For him.But I couldn’t see him yet.The pressure in my chest didn’t budge.“He’s fine,” a voice said beside me—calm, firm, lightly amused. “Adam knows what he’s doing.”I turned my head just enough to see Christopher standing there, h

Lillium RooseveltThe scent of antiseptic still clung to Adam like it refused to let go, as if even the sterile world didn’t want to release him too soon. He was sitting upright now, legs dangling off the edge of the bed, his fingers toying with the edge of his IV bandage as the doctor went over the discharge instructions.“Vitals are steady,” the doctor said, flipping the chart once more before signing something at the bottom. “CT and MRI scans are clean. No concussion, no internal bleeding, no broken bones. Just a bruised rib and stitches to the forehead. You’ll feel the soreness for a while—maybe a week or two—but that’s about it.”Adam just nodded, quiet.I stood near the wall, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my coat, watching him. He looked okay. Calm. Collected. Like the man I knew him to be. But there was something beneath the calmness—something I’d seen ever since they pulled him from that wreck.A shadow.Not fear

Adam Lewiston London in the morning had a way of looking almost too perfect—washed in pale gold light, the kind that softened the edges of its sharp, old-world architecture. The car was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional click of Ms. Chavez’s nails against her tablet screen in the front seat. She was murmuring through emails to herself, scanning numbers and schedules for when we landed. James drove with the calm efficiency of a man who could navigate these streets blindfolded. Beside me, Lu sat quietly, his gaze fixed out the tinted window. His profile caught the morning light, the faint curve of his cheekbone, the softness of his mouth at rest. His hand was in mine—light at first, almost tentative—until I began tracing my thumb along his knuckles. He didn’t pull away. I wasn’t sure how long we’d been holding hands. Maybe since we left the estate. Maybe since before

Dominus VaneThe hardwood floor was slick beneath my palms, my muscles burning as I forced myself down for another push-up. Every press upward, his name throbbed in my skull, a drumbeat that refused to fade. With a sharp grunt, I let myself fall flat to the ground, the floor beneath me was cool against my skin, though the sweat dripping down my temple made it slick. My chest rose and fell in ragged rhythm, the faint echo of my push-up still burning through my arms. I lay there, half sprawled, staring at the cracks in the old ceiling like they might have the answers I couldn’t find.They didn’t.No matter how many push-ups I punished myself with, no matter how many times I felt the sting of muscle and bone pulling against each other, he was still there. In my mind, like his face and name was engraved within.Lu.The bastard wasn’t even here, and still he managed to haunt me like a ghost.I dragged in a breath, pressing

Dominus VaneThe ceiling above me might as well have been a blank sheet, a cruel canvas for the thoughts that refused to leave me alone. Sirens wailed in the distance, their cries slipping through the thin cracks of the window. New York never slept. Tonight, neither did I.One arm was tucked beneath my head, the other pressed flat across my stomach, fingers tapping once, twice, restless. I should’ve been passed out by now. God knew I was tired. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw it again.That damned ring.Shining on his hand like a brand. Adam Lewiston’s claim.Lillium Roosevelt. My Lu. Engaged.The words kept circling in my skull, jagged and sharp. I wanted to tell myself it didn’t matter, that I had no right to care. But it mattered too much. It was eating me alive.I turned onto my side, jaw clenched, staring at the faint glow bleeding in from the city. It wasn’t just the ring. It was what came after.Th