Semua Bab Married to my Arrogant Sponsor : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Ava sat on the terrace, her coffee untouched and cold. The letter from Elena rested in her lap, its edges worn from being opened and closed too many times. Morning fog still clung to the trees, and the silence felt heavier than usual like it was waiting for something to break.Footsteps.Marcus stepped onto the terrace, hoodie on, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He paused when he saw her expression.“You read it,” he said quietly.Ava didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lifted slowly, clouded with a strange mix of urgency and betrayal.“You said you didn’t hear from her again after she disappeared.”“I didn’t.”“Then what is this?” She held out the letter, the ink slightly smudged from her fingers.Marcus’s jaw clenched. He took the paper with care, scanned it once, then nodded slowly. “It’s her handwriting.”“I know,” Ava said. Her voice cracked. “She mentioned me. Me. Why?”

The knock on the door was soft. Almost uncertain. Grayson looked up from the pages he hadn’t really been reading. The fire crackled low in the library hearth, casting shadows against the dark wood shelves. His drink sat untouched on the table beside him. Then he heard it again. Another knock. Not demanding. Just… there. He rose and opened the door. Ava stood there. Hood pulled low over her head, rain speckled across her shoulders. She didn’t look angry. She didn’t look afraid. She looked tired. But her eyes were steady. “You’re soaked,” he said, quietly. She stepped in without waiting to be invited. “I didn’t come to fight,” she said. “I just came to talk.” He nodded. “Then let’s talk.” They sat in the quiet library, both too aware of the silence.

It was the quiet that unsettled her most.The kind of quiet that crept under your skin and sat heavy on your chest like something was coming but it didn’t say when.Ava tapped her pen against the side of her notebook as the lecturer’s voice faded into background noise. Her classmates laughed at something behind her. She didn’t turn around.Since returning to school, she’d worn her invisibility like armor. And somehow, being the girl married to a billionaire only made it easier. People either stayed back out of intimidation or pretended not to see her at all.But today, she felt seen. Not by her classmates by something else.Or someone.She’d spotted it again. That same black SUV parked near the campus gate, tucked between a laundry shop and a vending kiosk. It wasn’t unusual except it had been there three times this week. Same dark tint. Same stillness. No driver ever stepped out.Coincidence? She wasn’t sure she believed in those anymore.When class ended, Ava stepped into the sunlit

Ava hadn’t meant to return to Greyline Apartments.The building sat quietly in a forgotten corner of the city, surrounded by untrimmed hedges and leaning fences. Time didn’t move here it stalled, like it was waiting for someone to come back and finish the story. The windows were still smudged with the city’s breath, the same way they’d always been. The buzzing neon sign above the door still flickered, blinking like it couldn’t decide whether to live or die.Unit 3B.Her old apartment.The last place she’d been her, without contracts or titles or complicated love. The hallway smelled of old paint and something burnt maybe toast, maybe someone’s forgotten dreams. The dent in the door from the night she left Joe was still there, a shallow echo of a deeper wound.She wasn’t sure why she came. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe she just wanted to prove to herself that she had moved on.But the moment she stepped onto the worn welcome mat, her breath caught.There tucked just

The estate was nothing like Ava expected. It didn’t reek of old money the way she thought it would. No over polished silver, no waiters trailing behind with champagne on gold trays, no women draped in designer fabrics like war medals. Instead, the place smelled of aged wood and blooming roses, of stories passed down in leather-bound journals, not tabloids. A stone manor nestled into a hillside, lined with rose gardens so vivid it looked like nature had written a love letter to silence. It was Grayson’s world just not the version he usually showed her. She wore a champagne colored satin gown, the kind that kissed her shoulders and skimmed her waist like it was stitched to remember her. She didn’t choose it to impress anyone. She chose it because it made her feel powerful. Feminine, but not fragile. The kind of beautiful that didn’t ask for approval. Grayson, beside her, wore tailored charcoal. His tie undone just enough to remind the room that control was his accessory. As they st