Engaged To The Ruthless Billionaire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

Alexander's POV The iron gates of Pier 41 didn’t stand a chance.The lead SUV in our convoy—an armored escalade reinforced with steel plating—slammed into the chain-link barrier at sixty miles per hour. Metal shrieked and tore, sparks showering the wet asphalt like fireworks.We didn’t slow down. We roared onto the docks, tires skidding on the slick concrete.“Target structure ahead!” Christian shouted from the front seat, racking the slide of his rifle. “North side. Three hostiles visible on the perimeter.”I didn’t wait for the car to stop.“Go,” I ordered into my comms. “Clear a path.”The convoy screeched to a halt in a V-formation around the entrance of the canning warehouse. Before the wheels stopped turning, my team was out.Gunfire erupted instantly.It was deafening. The mercenaries guarding the door opened fire, bullets pinging

Alexander's POVThe sound of a heart breaking is quiet.It wasn’t a scream. It wasn’t a wail. It was a low, ragged sound that came from the back of Eliana’s throat—a sound of pure, unadulterated ruin.I sat in the plastic chair next to her hospital bed, my elbows on my knees, my hands clasped so tight the knuckles were white.I watched her fall apart.She was curled on her side, facing away from me, her knees pulled up to her chest in a fetal ball. Her shoulders shook with every sob. The hospital gown had slipped slightly, revealing the dark, ugly bruise blooming on her shoulder blade where Arnett had slammed her into the ground.Every tremor in her body felt like a physical blow to mine.“Eliana,” I whispered. My voice was wrecked. Useless.She didn’t answer. She just cried.It wasn’t the crying of a woman who was sad. It was the crying of a mother who was empty.I looked at the IV line snake into her hand. I looked at the sling immobilizing her arm. I looked at the flatness of her s

Eliana's “Just one bite, Eliana. Please.”I stared at the fork hovering in front of my lips. Scrambled eggs. Fluffy, yellow, steaming slightly. They looked perfect. Alexander had made them himself; I knew because I had heard the clatter of pans from the kitchen for the last hour, a domestic symphony that felt entirely at odds with the hollowness inside my chest.“I’m not hungry,” I whispered, turning my head away toward the rain-streaked window of the penthouse bedroom.“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. I asked you to eat.”His voice was gentle, but there was that underlying steel, the command that usually made my spine straighten. Today, it just made me tired.I felt the mattress dip as he sat closer. He set the fork down on the tray but didn’t move away. His hand—large, warm, and calloused—came up to cup my jaw, turning my face back toward him.“You lost a lot of blood,” Alexander said softly, his thumb brushing over the fading bruise on my cheekbone. “You need the protein. If you

Alexander's POV The bottle of Macallan 64 shattered against the far wall, spraying forty-thousand-dollar scotch and crystal shards over the framed accolades of my career.It didn’t make me feel better.I stood in the center of my office, chest heaving, tie undone, staring at the wet stain dripping down the plaster. It was 2:00 AM. The city below was a grid of electric veins, pulsing with life, but up here, in the glass tower I had built to prove I was a god, it was dead silent.I walked back to my desk.I didn’t look at the quarterly reports. I didn’t look at the acquisition files for the Tokyo merger.I looked at the iPad propped up against a stack of unread legal briefs.Grainy, black-and-white footage from a street camera in the West Village.There was nothing happening. Just a quiet street. A stoop with a chipped railing. Two black SUVs parked on the corner—my SUVs.I was watching a building. I was watching her building.I was a ghost haunting the woman I was supposed to have sav

Eliana's The first delivery arrived at 8:00 AM.It wasn’t a bouquet. It was a botanical garden.I walked out of the guest bedroom, rubbing sleep from my eyes, to find Katherine standing in the middle of her living room, hands on her hips, surrounded by white peonies. They were everywhere. They covered the coffee table, the floor, the TV stand, and the kitchen island. The scent was overwhelming—sweet, heavy, and suffocating.“I assume these aren’t from your secret admirer at the bodega,” I said, stepping over a crystal vase filled with blooms that probably cost more than my first car.“Unless Jose won the lottery overnight and developed a very specific obsession with imported Dutch peonies, no,” Katherine said, picking up a small card from the nearest arrangement.She handed it to me.It was heavy, cream-colored cardstock. The handwriting was sharp, angular, and familiar.I’m listening.- ATwo words. One initial.I stared at the card. My chest tightened, a mix of anger and a treacher