Semua Bab Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother: Bab 81 - Bab 90

The night air was cool, quieter now.Cillian hadn’t driven far. Just enough to be out of sight of Benita’s house. He parked on a side street under a flickering lamppost, engine ticking softly in the silence. Hands still curled around the wheel, he could feel her arms around him—like she’d imprinted on his bones.He’d meant to stay five minutes. Hand her the statement, confirm she was okay, and go.But then she’d said she was proud of him.And that—somehow—meant more than the police dropping the charges, more than Belle’s silence, more than Kent saying, You’ve got people now.The name change had felt like erasing history. A quiet rebellion against the decades shaped by Dawson power. But when Benita said it… For letting go of Dawson… it sounded like becoming someone. Not shedding something.His phone buzzed in the cup holder. A text from Kent.KENT:You made her night. Come by tomorrow. Syl’s making pancakes. She’s smiling for real.Cillian didn’t reply. He stared at the message, thumb

CillianHe woke up before his alarm, the taste of her kiss still ghosting his mouth.It had been hours. Enough time to let it fade, enough distance to convince himself it didn’t matter. But it hadn’t. It hadn’t faded, and it did matter.Benita had looked at him like she hadn’t expected him—but hoped, maybe. Her voice had said his name like she used to, soft and unguarded. And then she kissed him.A mistake. He told himself that. A lapse. They couldn’t go back, not to what they were.But God, he wanted to see her again.He sat up, dragging a hand through his hair. His suit jacket was still tossed over the chair. He hadn’t even changed when he got home. Just collapsed into bed like someone hit him with a memory and a longing all at once.Roo.Cillian exhaled through his nose, just picturing that ridiculous puffball curling up beside her, nose twitching, paws in the air. Already sleeping next to her like he belonged.Lucky dog.He dressed quickly, kept his tie loose. There was too much h

BenitaShe didn’t hear her phone buzzing until the sixth vibration.Benita blinked at the ceiling, the room washed in the pale, cloud-thick morning. Her phone kept humming against the nightstand, relentless now.She finally reached for it, eyes still unfocused, and tapped the screen.Her inbox had exploded. Mentions, messages, headlines. A single link stared back at her—clipped from an entertainment segment and forwarded six times from six different people she hadn’t spoken to in months.She played it.Belle, pristine in a winter-white coat and oversized sunglasses, stood outside some high-end restaurant, backlit by a chorus of cameras.“It’s such a shame my daughter’s not interested in him. He’s a promising young man,”Belle said smoothly,“I’m happy to have helped elevate his career.”Benita sat up slowly.Played it again. She replayed it over and over until the words settled somewhere behind her ribs, clawing.Why did she say that?Why now?“What’s wrong with my mother?” She mumble

The noise of the office didn’t bother her today.Phones ringing. A printer chewing paper in the hallway. Lola rearranging stacks of documents.It all folded into a dull, manageable hum—one that was just enough to keep her thoughts from drifting toward the things she couldn’t fix.Benita sat at her desk, hands motionless on the keyboard, eyes unfocused on the email she’d opened five minutes ago and never read.She hadn’t spoken to Cillian since… everything.Since Isla.Since every tabloid headline decided her heartbreak was old news.There was a framed photo on her bookshelf—her photo of herself and Gaby. Benita got up and turned it face-down without a word.Her phone buzzed once.Kent.I’m downstairs. You free for a minute?Benita stared at the screen. Considered ignoring it. Then typed:Come up.A moment later, a soft knock at her door. Then Kent stepped in, dressed like he was dropping by from a quick office run. He held up two coffee cups.“Figured caffeine was safer at ten a.m.”

Cillian didn’t sleep much.Not because she was there, but because she was.At some point after two, he heard the soft creak of the stairs and the door to the guest room click shut. Roo had already abandoned his usual spot by Cillian’s feet and followed her out like it was the most natural thing in the world.Traitor.Now the sun had the nerve to rise, and he was standing in the kitchen about to play wife.Benita blinked awake to a shaft of morning light slicing through half-closed blinds.It took her a moment to place the room—not hers, but strangely more familiar than the house she lived in now. Cillian’s guest room. Crisp linen sheets. A dresser still full of teas and towels. Those brightly colored curtains she used to hate.She shifted under the covers, stretching slowly, and turned toward the window. Her eyes landed on the old hoodie draped over the chair—navy blue, frayed cuffs.Next to it, a pair of grey joggers. Folded too neatly for Cillian to have done it recently.She didn’t