Semua Bab The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress : Bab 51 - Bab 60

Sophie's pov **The Ultrasound Room** The gel squelches cold against Sophie's abdomen, the transducer pressing deep enough to make her flinch. "Sorry," murmurs Dr. Chen, her brow furrowing at the screen. The Doppler whooshes too fast, too erratic as the image resolves into a grainy silhouette. “Our baby.”Damien's hand tightens around mine. His signet ring the one he'd melted down and reforged without the Blackstone crest digs into my fingers. "See these shadows here?" Dr. Chen freezes the image, circling anomalies with a trembling cursor. "These protein markers... they're atypical for 22 weeks." The numbers flash red on the secondary monitor: **AFP: 8.7 MoM (Normal: 0.5)** Damien goes statue-still. I know that look the prelude to violence*. "Run it again." His voice is Arctic calm. The doctor's throat bobs. "Mr. Blackstone, these results are consistent across three " "Run. It. Again." The

Sophie's pov ** The Visitor's Room** The vial of blood glows ruby-red under prison fluorescents, rolling between Damien's fingers as he waits. The scent of industrial cleaner can't mask the underlying stench of sweat and hopelessness that permeates Blackstone Maximum Security's visitation block. A steel door clangs open. Arthur Blackstone enters with the causal grace of a man still accustomed to boardrooms rather than prison jumpsuits. The orange fabric hangs loose on his frame he's lost weight but his eyes remain sharp as scalpels. "Son." Arthur settles across from the bulletproof glass, amusement curling his lips. "Come to gloat?" Damien says nothing. Simply presses the vial against the divider, watching his father's pupils dilate at the label: **D.B. - GENERATION 18 - CONTAMINATED** Arthur throws back his head and laughs, the sound echoing off cinder block walls. "Took you long enough." His fingernails still manicured, somehow tap the glass. "Your mother begge

Sophie's pov ** The Exhibition Opening** The gallery hums with the kind of electricity only money and malice can generate. Crystal glasses clink beneath the vaulted ceilings of the renovated Blackstone Gallery now rebranded as the “Laurent Collective” where my latest collection hangs like open wounds disguised as art. I adjust my earpiece, catching Elena's security update: "All exits covered. Three plainclothes near the champagne." Then “she” enters. Lucina Moretti glides through the crowd in a dress that costs more than most attendees' annual salaries, scarlet silk that clings like blood on snow. Her stilettos click a predatory rhythm across the marble as she zeroes in on Damien near the centerpiece installation. "Ah, the infamous Mr. Blackstone." Her Italian accent curls around his name like smoke. "I've been dying to see what kind of man inspires such... passionate brushstrokes." Her fingers long, manicured, dangerous trail across the placard beneath my largest paintin

Sophie's pov The conference room smells of freshly printed contracts and barely contains rage. Twelve Blackstone lawyers line the mahogany table like a firing squad, their pens poised over the thickest prenuptial agreement I've ever seen. Damien leans back in his chair, fingers steepled the picture of calm, if you ignore the vein throbbing at his temple. "Standard revisions," he lies smoothly. I flick open the document to Clause 17(b): "In the event of spousal deception regarding matters materially affecting marital assets, all Blackstone Holdings intellectual property rights shall" The pen snaps in my hand, splattering ink across the page like blood. "Let me simplify this." My voice cuts through the air-conditioned chill. "Fifty percent of everything. Including the patents. Every time you lie to me." The youngest lawyer chokes on his mineral water. Damien's eyes darken to stormcloud green. "That would bankrupt me in a week." I smile sweetly. "Then stop lying." **FI

Sophie's pov The vase explodes against the marble floor with the force of a detonating heart. His mother's Ming dynasty treasure. The one that had survived five generations of Blackstones. The one he'd carried through fire and bloodshed to place in our penthouse as a silent vow: “This is yours now too.” Porcelain shards skitter across the floor like broken promises, catching the light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Manhattan glitters below us a kingdom we'd conquered together, now just another battlefield. "You are encouraging her Sophie." Damien's voice isn't raised. That's how I know this is nuclear. The quieter he gets, the more dangerous the storm. His hands hang loose at his sides, but I see the way his fingers twitch the same micro-movement he makes before reaching for a weapon. I step deliberately onto the largest fragment, letting it bite into my bare heel. The pain is clean, sharp, nothing like the jagged mess in my chest. "And if I did?" The security syst