CEO Dante; The one for me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

The sun shone through the sheer curtains of my apartment, casting soft shadows across the room. Abigail’s coos stirred me from a light sleep, the kind that never really takes you under, just floats you somewhere between peace and persistent thought. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, wondering how I got here—how everything managed to fall apart so completely.It had been more than a week since I left Dante. Long days of silence from him. Not a text. Not a call. Not even a message passed through someone else. He had let me go, just like that. No fight. No attempt to understand or fix things. And maybe that should have made it easier. Maybe it should’ve been the closure I needed. But it wasn’t. It just hurt.I turned my head toward Abigail, who was lying in her bassinet beside me. Her tiny fists waved in the air, her lips puckered in an almost-smile. She was my anchor in all of this. My reason for holding it together.Marcus had been... present. Not in a suffocating way, not ye

I sat in the living room watching Abigail as she laid in her cot, saying cute baby words and mumbling with her tiny feet kicking in the air. The view was indeed satisfactory to me. I was seated across from her, watching her and reminiscing on the life I planned to give her and what she was getting now. ‘I would give her the best version of myself,’ I had said. But here I was, broken and barely holding myself together. I want the best for her, she definitely deserved the best version of myself. But I wasn't in control anymore. I couldn't control who I had turned into. I couldn't even control how I felt, but one thing was for sure, she deserved better.The door bell rang and my absent mind was brought back to reality.I already knew who it was.Marcus had been visiting more frequently, slowly trying to push his way back into the life we once shared. It was gentle at first. Small visits, walks to the park, meals together, and the likes. He’d been patient and careful not to overwhelm me.

I didn’t cry when I left Dante’s office. I didn’t let myself. Not on the elevator ride down. Not during the drive home. But the moment I saw Marcus standing by the door of my apartment, holding Abigail in his arms like some fragile treasure, something inside me just shattered.I stopped walking. My keys were in my hand, but I couldn’t move.Marcus looked up as if sensing me before I even made a sound. “Hey,” he said softly, eyes switching focus between the baby and I. Abigail was asleep against his chest, her tiny hand curled around the collar of his shirt. She looked so at peace and safe and a hundred percent unaware of the emotional minefield around her.“She was fussing,” he added quickly, almost like he needed to explain. “The nanny called and said she wouldn’t stop crying. I just thought I should step in.”I swallowed hard and nodded, stepping forward without a word. The keys trembled in my hand as I unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting them in. My chest ached with eve

The soft sound of labored breathing beside me woke me up and at first, I didn't think much of it. Abigail had been a little fussy the previous night, probably from teething again. But then I felt heat radiating from her body and my heart dropped. “Abby?” I whispered, sitting up quickly and cupping her flushed face. Her cheeks were burning, and her skin was damp with sweat. “Oh my God, my baby.”She whimpered and shifted in the sheets, as her tiny hand curled weakly around mine. I began to panic so much. I pressed the back of my hand to her forehead again, as if maybe it would feel different this time, but it didn’t. If anything, she felt warmer.I threw the blanket off us and climbed out of bed, my heart racing. I grabbed the thermometer and tried to calm her down enough to take her temperature. The moment the reading beeped, my stomach sank.39.4°C.I froze, staring at the number. My mind was in a lot of chaos already. That was too high.I held her closer, pacing the room while dial

It had been a little over a week since I gave Marcus the money. One million dollars.Sometimes I still couldn’t believe I actually did that. Not because I regretted it, but because it felt unreal. Like I’d just transferred that kind of money to the man who once walked away from me like I was nothing. But then, when it came to Abigail’s safety, there was no price too high. There never would be.That night, after I gave him the money, he cried. Not like loud, dramatic sobs, but that silent, broken kind of cry that feels too heavy for sound. I held him. I told him it was okay. He kept whispering “thank you” over and over again like it was the only thing he had left in him.I believed him when he said it was all going to be okay now. And for a few days, it actually was.The peace that followed was nothing but satisfying. No unknown numbers calling at 1AM. No nightmares of someone hurting our daughter. It felt like I could finally breathe again.But peace can be deceptive. It can trick you