Semua Bab The Billionaire Married Me, Then Forgot How to Love Me: Bab 231 - Bab 240

(Serena)The Civic hums all the way out of the suburbs, steady under my hands, the wheel light and familiar.It’s late afternoon when I turn down the tree-lined street to my parents’ house.The house I came back to when James and I split. Familiar bricks, white shutters, the wraparound porch. Trees reserve out the back.I park out front, cut the engine, and just sit a second. Then I honk the horn until they rush out.“Well, I’ll be.” Dad says with a grin. Hands on his hips. “You found a car the same?”Mom is wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “It is the same car, Jacob. Same license plates.”I climb out waving my keys. “It is my car, yes. James surprised me with it today.”“How lovely. You here for dinner?”“I guess. I asked Haylee to have dinner with me, but she already had a date.”We walk up the verandah stairs into he house and along the hallway to the kitchen.The smell of garlic and rosemary hits me. “Roast lamb? Yum.”Mom turns to me. “Oh, it’s so good to see you here again.”

(James)“James.” Her tone is even, not sharp, not warm. Guarded.“Serena,” I answer. My chest tightens because every time I see her like this… simple, unguarded… I’m reminded of what we had before the world crashed in.She doesn’t ask why I’m here. She just opens the door wider, steps back. “Come in.”We had lunch yesterday, I gave her the car back. I never expected to be on her doorstep today. I do not want to seem pushy in any way.But I have no choice. I need to be here right now.I cross the threshold, my eyes flicking before I can stop them… straight to the kitchen.The island bench is there, white marble gleaming under pendant lights.My need for her surges with the memory before I can shove it away.Her divorce party night, the two of us colliding there in the dark.Wild, reckless, the kind of sex that wasn’t about love or hate but survival. She kissed me like she wanted to erase the pain, and I let her.And then she pushed me out, told me to leave, and I did.My mouth goes dry

(Savannah)Nico is at my apartment door.I lean towards him to kiss his cheek, and he pulls back and walks past me.“Damon Cross filed suit against you. Defamation. Emotional distress. Claiming he’s reformed and he was cut out of the chance to be a father to his son.”“What? Can he do that?”“He can try,” Nico says, steady. “Depositions. Subpoenas for testimony against your character and mental state at the time you adopted the baby. Opposing counsel will try to make every private thing you’ve done look like a public crime.”“Shit, why? Why would he? He does not want that baby. He can’t get him can he?”“Doubtful. But it depends on his end game.”“What witnesses?” I ask, though I already know.“James,” Nico says, and my stomach drops. “Serena. Margot. Anyone who intersected with you before and after the pregnancy.”There it is. The panic swerves hard, then straightens like a race car that nearly flipped. “If James and Serena are asked about me, it won’t be pretty.”“I need to know eve

(Serena)Back home, my apartment feels too quiet after Haylee’s laughter.I stretch across the bed, phone in hand, staring at the last thread I have with James.My civic jumps into my head. That was really the nicest gesture anyone has done for me. It felt so genuine.I shouldn’t text him. Not tonight. Not when I just admitted what he does to me. But the need outweighs the caution right now.My thumbs move before I can stop them.S: Haylee told me you asked her to check on me. Thank you.The reply comes instantly, like he was holding his phone waiting for me.J: I’ll always make sure you’re okay. Even if you don’t want me to.I press a hand over my mouth, like that will stop the rush in my belly. It’s so James… infuriating, protective, unfiltered.And even now, I don’t hate it. I never did. Only when it wasn’t authentic. When he wasn’t being honest with me or himself.S: It’s ok. You’ve seen the worst and best of me.There’s a pause, then:J: I wish I could go back and fix things.S:

(Serena)The last notes of James’s piano attempt fade into silence.For a while, neither of us moves. He sits there with his sleeves rolled, shoulders relaxed, watching me on the sofa.I try to act unaffected, but my mind and body are in turmoil, my hands restless in my lap.I know what this moment is.A line.If I get up, if I walk across to him, then I’m crossing it.If I don’t stop him coming to me, I’m crossing it.He leans back on the bench, tilts his head. “You’re quiet.”“I’m thinking.”“About what?”I hesitate. About how badly I want you. About how dangerous that is.But what comes out is only, “that I shouldn’t be here.”His expression shifts, softens. “Then why are you?”My voice wavers a little. “Because I wanted to be.”It feels like a confession.He stands, slow, deliberate. Each step he takes toward me pulls the air tighter.When he stops in front of me, I tilt my head back to look up at him. There’s no arrogance in his face, no calculation. Just James, raw, unguarded.J