Semua Bab MARRIED TO THE BILLIONAIRE: ANDREW LUTHOR: Bab 1 - Bab 10

The word sounded like a sad joke.The ink had barely dried before Andrew turned and walked away.“Get ready,” he said over his shoulder. “The wedding is in an hour.”Sarah's eyes widened but she didn’t answer. Her hands were still on the table, and frozen. The room was cold. Her chest felt tighter than before. She didn’t move until Richard returned, holding a white dress in a plastic bag.“It’s simple,” he said. “No time for anything fancy.”She stared at it. It looked more like a uniform than a wedding dress. No lace. No warmth. Just fabric and silence.She stood, and collected the dress, and walked into the bathroom. Her fingers were numb and wobbled as she unzipped it. She slipped it over her head. It fit too perfectly. Like it had been measured long before today.There was No makeup,No flowers and No music. The only sound that was heard was only the sound of a clock ticking.When she stepped out, Richard nodded.“You look fine.”That was all he said before leading her out.The cou

Sarah didn’t sleep. She sat with the laptop on her lap, staring at the message. The screen glowed in the dark. “Your parents didn’t die by accident. And you’re next if you don’t stay silent.” Her heart pounded. Her breath came in short gasps. She shut the laptop. Locked it in a drawer. Then got up and went straight to Andrew’s room. She didn’t knock. She just pushed the door open. Andrew sat on the edge of his bed, shirtless, and holding a glass of whiskey again. His tie was still around his neck, loosened, and his hair messy. He looked annoyed. “What the hell?” She walked in, holding her phone. “Read this,” she said. “I don’t read things people throw in my face,” he said. “I’m not playing.” He grabbed the phone. Scanned the screen. His eyes darkened. “Who sent this?” “I don’t know,” she said. “It came from nowhere. No name. No number. Just that.” Andrew tossed the phone on the bed and Got up. “Is this some kind of game?” he asked. “What?” “You're faking this? Trying

Sarah's heart raced as she stood in the marble bathroom, staring at the tiny white stick that held her world in its grip. Two lines. Not one. Panic surged through her. "No. No, this can’t be true," she whispered, backing away as if the test might leap at her. "It has to be a false positive."Her hands shook, gripping the counter for stability. The air felt heavy, the walls closing in. She stumbled into her lavish bedroom, the cool hardwood floor anchoring her whirling thoughts.Get it together, Sarah. Breathe.She sank onto the velvet stool at her vanity, eyes wide and brimming with disbelief. “This isn’t happening,” she said to her reflection. “There’s no way I’m—”She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she’d go to the hospital, get a blood test, and confirm the truth. No jumping to conclusions.Her phone buzzed in her trembling hands. Should she call Mia? Her best friend? But how do you casually say, “Hey, I might be pregnant with my billionaire husband’s b

Next Morning Sarah shot upright in bed, her stomach twisting like a tightly pulled knot. In a panicked rush, she scrambled out of bed, her bare feet slapping against the icy marble floor. She barely made it to the bathroom before she collapsed to her knees, retching violently. The echo of her heaves bounced off the porcelain, her body revolting against her with unrelenting force. When it finally subsided, she slumped against the cool wall, gasping and drenched in sweat, her heart racing. What is happening to me? She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, forcing herself to look at her reflection in the mirror. The sight nearly made her recoil. Pale skin, dark circles etched under her eyes, cracked lips, red and weary; she looked like a woman on the brink of collapse. I need to get out of here. I need answers. With bile still lingering in her throat, she pushed

EVENING – LUTHER’S MANSION The chandeliers above cast a golden glow across the luxurious sitting room, but the atmosphere was ice-cold the moment Sarah stepped in. She halted mid-step when she saw Andrew sitting at the center like a king ready to sentence a traitor. His sharp, unreadable gaze cut through her like glass. “Good evening,” she said quietly, adjusting her purse and trying to move past him. But his voice struck like a whip. “Where are you coming from?” Andrew asked, low and dangerous. She turned slowly, confusion knitting her brow. “From my friend’s house.” He laughed. Cold. Mocking. Brutal. “Really? A friend’s house... or your lover’s?” Sarah blinked. “What?” “Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Sarah,” he snarled. Without warning, he flung a set of photos across the room. They scattered like sharp-edged confetti, s