Semua Bab Betrayed by Blood, Saved by a Billionaire: Bab 21 - Bab 30

The lecture I’d expected from Alexander after my paparazzi adventure never really materialized. Instead, there was that strange, intense conversation in his study, the one where he’d looked less like a global tycoon and more like a man genuinely worried about my safety. His "rules" still felt like restrictions, but his concern had been disarming. Unexpected.Life in the penthouse settled back into its weird, luxurious rhythm. Alexander was often gone, consumed by Sterling Industries, but when he was home, things felt subtly different. The air between us was still charged, but it wasn't just the tension of our bizarre contract anymore. There was something else, a new awareness, a kind of fragile understanding that had been born out of that shared moment of near-panic.He kept his word about my art. The next day, several large boxes of art supplies arrived, a ridiculous assortment of everything I could possibly need – canvases of all sizes, every shade of oil paint imaginable (including

The name Cassandra Thorne hung in the air between Alexander and me like an unspoken threat. He didn’t mention her again in the days that followed, burying himself even deeper in the fight against her brother’s corporate attacks. But I couldn’t get her out of my head. Beautiful, intelligent, ambitious, and, worst of all, approved by Genevieve Sterling. She was everything I wasn’t. And I had a horrible feeling that Alexander’s "delicate strategy" regarding her might soon involve me being made to feel even more like an imposter.I didn’t have to wait long.A few days later, an engraved invitation arrived. Not via Amelia Thorne’s efficient emails, but hand-delivered, on thick, creamy cardstock that screamed old money and exclusivity. It was from Genevieve Sterling herself, requesting – or rather, summoning – Alexander and me to an "intimate family dinner" at the Sterling ancestral estate, a place I hadn’t even known existed.“Family dinner?” I’d said to Alexander, holding the ostentatious

Meeting Dylan had stirred up a whole mess of emotions I’d been trying to keep buried. Guilt, sadness, a weird kind of nostalgia for a simpler life that was now totally out of reach. I got back to the penthouse just before my security detail probably would have escalated things to DEFCON 1, and managed to look suitably "serene" (thanks, Evangeline) when one of the household staff asked if I needed anything.I retreated to my studio, but painting felt impossible. Dylan’s worried face, Hailey’s venom, Genevieve’s icy disapproval – it was all swirling in my head like a toxic paint spill. I felt more alone than ever, adrift in this sea of billionaires, betrayals, and ridiculously expensive throw pillows.I ended up in the penthouse’s massive library. It was one of the few rooms that didn’t feel completely sterile. It was lined floor-to-ceiling with actual books, not just decorative ones, and there were comfy leather armchairs that looked like they’d actually been sat in. Alexander, for all

The image of Alexander, weary and burdened by the weight of his corporate war, stayed with me. It made the endless fittings with Evangeline and the thought of more public appearances feel… well, still annoying, but somehow less like the most important problem in the universe. He was fighting actual dragons, or at least, corporate raiders who were probably just as scaly. I was just trying to figure out how to walk in heels without looking like a newborn giraffe.A few days later, Amelia Thorne’s familiar, crisp text pinged on my phone.“Ms. Miller, Mr. Sterling has arranged for a private viewing for you at the Harrison Gallery tomorrow afternoon. They are showcasing a new collection of contemporary impressionists. He thought you might find it… stimulating. Your usual security will accompany you. – A.T.”The Harrison Gallery. It was one of the most prestigious contemporary art galleries in the city. A place I’d only ever dreamed of visiting, let alone getting a private viewing at. Alexa

I practically sprinted back to my suite – because calling it just a "bedroom" felt like a massive understatement – my heart still doing a nervous tap dance against my ribs. Genevieve and Cassandra. Together. In Alexander’s living room. It was like a tag team of perfectly dressed, Chanel-scented doom. The thought of Alexander walking in on that scene… I wasn’t sure if I was relieved he’d missed it or terrified of what his mother might have said to him if she’d caught him before I did.I had about fifteen minutes before his ETA. Not enough time to magically transform into the serene, confident fiancée Evangeline was trying to sculpt me into, but enough to splash some cold water on my face and try to look like I hadn’t just been mentally sparring with two queen bees.When I heard the distinct sound of the private elevator doors opening down the hall, followed by Alexander’s low, authoritative voice speaking to what sounded like Amelia Thorne, my stomach did another nervous flip. He was b