Alle Kapitel von Claimed by the billionaire : Kapitel 121 – Kapitel 130

ELIZABETH POV Christian’s words hit like a bomb. I sat in his car, my hands shaking, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. His eyes were dark, heavy, watching me as I tried to process what he’d just said about his mom, my dad, the abuse. Then he kept going, his voice low, rough. “My father. Your father, Harper. Peter. Adrian’s father. And Morgan, who’s dead now.” My head spun, my breath stuck in my throat. All those men? The names piled up, each one heavier than the last. my father being part of this sick mess. Peter. Adrian’s dad. Morgan. It was too much, like trying to swallow broken glass. I gripped my knees, my nails digging in, my mind racing to keep up. What is this? “Did you kill Morgan?” I blurted, my voice shaky. “Like… Adrian’s father?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, my heart pounding. Christian scoffed, his lips twisting, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “I didn’t kill Morgan,” he said, his voice sharp, bitter. “My dad did. Morgan t

ELIZABETH POV I walked into my dad’s house, my head high, ready to play this game. He’d called me to talk about the trial, and I’d agreed to come, keeping my secrets tight—Dad had no clue I’d moved back in with. And that’s why I didn’t pick Hope up from my grandmother’s place, he might notice. He’s not finding out shit. The place was a wreck, worse every time I saw it. Peeling paint hung like dead skin, the floor groaned under my boots, and the air smelled like mold and bad choices. Christian really fucked him up. I bit back a smirk, knowing Dad couldn’t afford to fix this dump, let alone get a new one. “Elizabeth, good to see you,” my father said, stepping into view, his voice dripping with fake warmth. He plopped onto the sagging couch, his eyes scanning me like he was looking for a crack to pry open. Good to see me? My ass. I flashed a tight, fake smile, my stomach steady, my guard ironclad. “Hey, Dad,” I said, dropping into a creaky chair, my hands loose on my lap,

ELIZABETH POV I got home, my blood pumping from outsmarting Father, his desperate pleas still ringing in my ears. I headed straight to Christian’s study, I pushed the door open, and there he was—lounging in his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, dark hair messy over his eyes, all sharp edges and quiet heat. He looked up, his gaze locking onto mine, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. “Baby,” he said, his voice low, rough, like it could unravel me right there. I moved toward him, my steps slow, my eyes never leaving his. He stood, closing the gap fast, his hands grabbing my waist, pulling me against him with a firm, hungry tug. Before I could speak, he spun me, pinning me gently against the desk, his body close, his hips pressing into mine. His fingers slid under my shirt, grazing the bare skin of my lower back, warm and deliberate, sending a shiver straight through me. “You good?” he murmured, his voice thick, his lips brushing the edge of my jaw, teasing, making

ELIZABETH POV Two months had passed since my father was locked away. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t satisfied. After what he did to Christian’s mother, I saw him as nothing but evil. If Christian had killed him, I wouldn’t have been mad—just didn’t want that blood on his hands. The funniest part? Society painted Christian as a monster—ruthless, cold, dangerous. They never saw this: him in the kitchen, apron tied loose, dishing Hope’s scrambled eggs while she chattered about her toy dinosaur’s “superpowers.” He listened like it was the most important briefing of his life, nodding, asking, “So the T-Rex could fly now?” Hope giggled, mouth full. The sight melted me. He was freaking adorable. I had hated him when I first moved in, I hated the walls, the rules, the man. Now? I was completely whipped. I had pulled out the soft in him, the part buried under years of armor. And he had done the same for me. I’m utterly in love with him. “Can you pass the butter?” Christia

ELIZABETH POV “Christian, for fuck’s sake, can you not do this right now?” I grunted as his lips found my neck, nibbling that sensitive spot that always made my knees weak. My body arched into him anyway, heat pooling low, but we were already thirty minutes late for Tessa and Alexander’s wedding. This was not the time. “It won’t take long,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Just five minutes.” His hands were already sliding inside my Dior custom silver dress, fingers greedy, pushing the fabric up my thighs. I had just put the dress on, and somehow my husband couldn’t keep his hands off me. Tessa was finally marrying her forever crush, and we were about to miss it because Christian couldn’t behave. “Christian, we are not—” My words cut off in a moan when his fingers found my panties, stroking my already wet pussy through the lace. Four years married and this man still set me on fire every single time. “Fucking hell, you’re so wet, wife,” he hissed. In one swift mo