บททั้งหมดของ Trapped In The Billionaire's Web: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

I stood by the window for hours that night. The city was quiet from up here, far below the penthouse. Cars passed like ghosts. Lives continued. People laughed, slept, and dreamed without knowing that just thirty floors above them, two people were unraveling a web spun long before either of them saw it coming. Adrian hadn’t said a word since Elena’s confession. His brother. Alive. The words didn’t even make sense in my head. I wanted to ask questions, demand answers — but part of me already knew. This wasn’t just a story of a jealous ex or a twisted lover. It was deeper. Older. And more dangerous than anything I had imagined. At exactly 3:12 a.m., the power flickered again. I didn’t move. This time, I waited. And sure enough… a message buzzed into my phone. A text. No number. "You're not his prisoner, Ivy. You're mine." My hands trembled, but I didn’t scream. I walked straight to Adrian’s office. He was still there, staring at an old envelope like it held the

I stared at the photo in my hand — a snapshot of me outside my old apartment. A year ago. Smiling, unaware, frozen in a memory I never knew someone else was watching.“Why would Lucas be watching me back then?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.Valentina poured herself another glass of wine, her hand steady.“Because you look like her,” she said without hesitation.I blinked. “Like who?”She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached into a worn leather folder and pulled out another photograph.When she laid it on the table, the air shifted.The woman in the picture looked almost exactly like me — same eyes, same hair, same shape of face. Not identical, but close enough that I felt like I was looking at a strange reflection.“Her name was Lila,” Valentina said softly. “She was his wife.”My chest tightened. “Wife?”“She died five years ago. Or rather, Lucas says she was ‘taken from him.’ He blamed Adrian. He blamed the world. But mostly… he blamed anyone who reminded him of

For a second, time didn’t move.Adrian stared at Lucas like he couldn’t believe his eyes — like some part of him had clung to the hope that this was all just a game, a ghost playing tricks.But Lucas wasn’t a ghost.He was real. Flesh and blood. Standing just a few feet away, wearing a dark tailored coat and that same crooked smirk Adrian wore when he wanted to win an argument.The only difference was the emptiness in his eyes.Adrian raised the gun slowly, steady. “Don’t move.”Lucas didn’t even blink. “You always bring a gun to family reunions?”“You’re not family anymore,” Adrian said, his voice tight.Lucas chuckled. “Funny. You said the same thing the night you left me in flames.”Adrian’s jaw clenched.“I didn’t light that fire.”“No,” Lucas said, stepping forward, “but you watched it burn. And that makes you worse.”I felt the tension between them like electricity — alive, ready to snap.I stood frozen, heart racing, unsure what to do or say. One wrong word, and either man coul

The room held its breath.Lucas stood under the chandelier like a conductor waiting to cue the final note. Adrian held the gun in his hand, but for the first time, it looked heavier than it should. And I… I was in the middle of it all. Not a spectator anymore, but a target. A weapon. A consequence.“You don’t have to do this,” I said, stepping forward.Lucas looked at me with amusement. “That’s the problem, Ivy. I already did. Years ago.”“You’re not proving anything by dragging us back here.”He took a step toward me.“Oh, but I am. I’m proving that no matter how far he runs, no matter who he hides behind, Adrian can’t erase what he built. He made me. He taught me everything. And then he threw me away.”“I tried to save you!” Adrian shouted, his voice raw.Lucas turned, eyes blazing. “You saved yourself. You always do.”The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full. Of anger. Of history. Of pain so old it had turned to bone.“I loved you,” Adrian said, softer now. “Even when yo

Adrian held the card like it might vanish if he blinked.“The web was never just his,” he read aloud again, voice low. “It’s ours now. – M.”He turned it over. Nothing on the back. No fingerprints. No smudges. Just clean, sharp ink on matte black.He looked at me, jaw tight. “This wasn’t a message. It was a warning.”“From who?” I asked, though the chill in my spine already knew we were dealing with something bigger than Lucas.Adrian walked to the bookshelf in the villa’s study — not for a book, but for a hidden safe behind it. He opened it and pulled out an old leather file. Dusty. Untouched for years.He laid it on the table, unzipped it slowly.Inside: photos. Old ones. Faded documents. A list of names. Some crossed out.At the top of the page, underlined in red ink, was a single letter.M.He tapped the paper once. “This… this was my father’s list.”“Your father?”Adrian nodded. “He wasn’t just a businessman. He had enemies. He built things most people weren’t supposed to find. S