The Billionaire Married Me, Then Forgot How to Love Me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 221 - チャプター 230

(Serena)Heat flashes through me.I inhale through my nose and it passes like a wave smashing then sucking back.“Do not use that name,” I say. “Do not ever use that name. That was my name first.”She laughs, brittle and bright but tears still roll down her cheeks. “Oh, please. You named ghosts. I had a real child.”What did she just say?“And now I’ve moved on to a man who shares my real values. And you can’t stand it because you’re bitter and barren and—”I move before the last word. My hand lashes out at her cheek.The slap lands and the room goes silent.Her cheek flashes red and for a millisecond she looks at me. Then she collapses to the floor like the slap knocked her over.In a heartbeat both Nico and James are beside her. Crouching down.Her eyes flood with something hot and ancient and feral as she looks at me.I know what she’s saying, look at them both here for me.She’s right. James is by her side, not mine. Nothing has changed.Then James says, “Savannah, what the hell d

(Serena)Damon’s shouts still vibrate in the air.Savannah’s shrill sobs riding the edge of hysteria.My my, how the tables turn. I don’t smile but I want to.But all I can see is the man Damon floored.His jaw grotesquely swollen, blood streaking his mouth and chin. The side of his face is a mess and his eye is already blooming from the impact on his jaw.Everyone’s eyes are locked on Savannah and Nico, drinking in the scandal like it’s wine.“I called 911. Ambulance is on the way.” James says as he falls into step beside me.“Thanks.”He’s on it. He knew exactly what I was thinking.I drop to my knees and snatch a clean napkin from the nearest table.I press the folded cloth gently against the guard’s jaw. His groan rattles through him.“Stay with me,” I say firmly. “Ambulance is on the way. Just breathe.”His eyelids flutter, pupils sluggish. Shock.A young staffer kneels down beside me, pale and jittery. “Can I help?” She asks in a meek voice.I smile at her. “Grab me a blanket or

(James)Serena tips her flute against my glass. “Do not say anything motivational,” she warns, eyes bright. “It’ll ruin the vibe.”“I was going to say you look happy,” I answer.“That’s allowed. That’s observational.” She shifts closer on the velvet, knees angled toward me, shoulder easy against the backrest. “You know what I keep thinking about?”“Declaring a global embargo on my mother?”She laughs. “Tempting, but no. Lapland.”I groan-laugh into my whiskey. “Sven?”“Sven,” she repeats, savoring it like a dessert with an indecent center. “Do you remember the first three things he said to us?”“‘Yeah, pretty much everything or die.” I pitch my voice into granite. “You city folk, so jumpy… Damn-right we were jumpy… I mean… He had an axe.”“One…‘start fire or die’. Two…‘cloudberry spirit, drink for heat or die’. Three…‘if Sven want you dead, already crushed throats by now’,” Serena growls out.“Which, to be fair, is comprehensive hospitality for Northern Lapland.”Her grin goes sideway

(Serena)I wake up late. Who cares. Sunday is me day. I do whatever I want with whoever I want.I don’t even check my phone for the time when I roll over. Who cares? I just let myself stretch, stare at the ceiling, and know I don’t have to be anywhere.It feels good.When I finally get out of bed, I don’t bother getting dressed properly.Old shirt, hair tied back, bare feet against the floor. I grab my cell phone and shove it in my pocket.Sundays aren’t for rushing.The automatic coffee machine has a pot ready. The first sip is hot and strong, and I’m already thinking about how I can make this day as unmemorable as possible.My phone buzzes. I leave it until the machine is done and I’ve topped up my mug. Then I check.James.J: Need a favor. You free?Is he kidding me? Maybe I just don’t answer.J: I can see that you’ve seen the message…Dammit. I’ll probably regret this.S: Define favor.J: Conference next month. My tech company’s hosting. I’m presenting the chopper safety upgrades

(Serena)Haylee bursts out of her apartment building before I’ve even cut the engine.She freezes halfway down the steps, her eyes wide. For a second she doesn’t move, just stares.Then she shrieks, “No way!” and runs the rest of the way down the stairs.I laugh, already out of the car. “Way.”She puts both hands on the Civic’s hood like she’s found a lost pet. “You’re kidding me. It’s perfect. Look at this paint… oh my God, it looks brand new!”“Feels like it too.”She spins on me. “How? Where did you even find it? I thought it was long gone.”“I thought so too. James kept it. Had it repaired.”Her eyebrows shoot up, suspicion flashing. “James did this?”“Yeah.”She shakes her head, laughing under her breath, still running her palms across the hood, the roof, like she can’t stop touching it. “Unbelievable. Your Civic. I remember when you first got it. You were bragging for weeks.”“I earned being insufferable,” I say.“You did. And every time you drove us anywhere, you had to remind