Claimed by the billionaire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Christian POV The whiskey sat untouched beside me, the ice clinking quietly against the glass. My glass was half-full, the sharp burn of whiskey doing nothing to cut through the irritation gnawing at me. Not from Adrian Lockwood's spiral earlier in my office, he was a laughable pest at this point—but from the spiraling disorder I could no longer ignore. I had come home from work because I couldn’t keep my head straight from the same spiraling disorder. Ever since Red—four years ago—I hadn’t kissed a woman or fucked them face to face. I had a way I did things. Detached. Cold. I fucked from behind because it was easier. No eye contact. No intimacy. Just pleasure, brutal and simple. No one could handle what I liked in bed, and I didn’t care enough to soften it. But the rules… started breaking when a certain blonde walked into my life. Elizabeth Harper. Or should I say Elizabeth Reed? She was cracking my walls, every damn day, without even realizing it. I’d kissed her. Fu

Christian POV “Is your brother aware of what you have planned for your father?” Matthew Davenport — my lawyer, and the only person I trust with blood on my hands — leaned back in his seat, watching me closely. “Why the hell should he be?” I replied coldly. “Maybe because he’s his father too. And maybe… just maybe there’s still a part of him that wants to forgive him.” Alex cut in, swirling the dark liquor in his glass like it could change the subject. I scoffed, sharp and bitter. “He’s not going anywhere near that fucker. And I’m making damn sure of that.” We were sitting in the VIP section of Euphoria — one of Alex’s many nightclubs, all chrome, shadows, and sin. On the surface, it looked like three rich men getting drunk on a Thursday night. In reality, we were plotting my father’s final downfall. “He’s served his time,” Matthew said, more measured this time. “Christian, maybe it’s time to let this go.” Let it go? I poured myself another drink. The whiskey burne

Christian POV “Get on your knees,” I commanded, my voice flat and cold. Jessica, Elizabeth’s desperate, attention,starved sister obeyed like the fucking slut she was. She had slipped a note into my jacket the last time she cornered Elizabeth, trying to be subtle. She wasn’t. She wanted a taste. Some of the guys had said she was wild in bed — a wolf. They lied. I’d spent hours fucking her. Buried my cock inside her over and over, used her however I wanted and still couldn’t cum. Not once. Because every time I touched her, I was thinking of someone else. I gripped her pink hair, but imagined blonde. I cupped her hips, full and soft, but they didn’t feel right. Even when she moaned my name, it wasn’t the voice I craved. What a shame. “I’m not one of your sluts,” she muttered, lips trembling even those weren’t the right lips. I stared down at her, my expression blank. I didn’t care.“Then get on your knees,” I said coldly. “Or get the fuck out.” She dropped to

Elizabeth POV I can’t believe I’m here again. 
The same gate, same walls, and that same suffocating silence in the air. 
Everything looks the same, but I’m not the same. Living with my devil husband has rebuilt me. When I was here, I was afraid of everything my father does—his voice, his footsteps, the sound of the lock clicking shut. I used to count the days by how many times he yelled. Or how long the bruises took to fade. 
God… I can still hear him sometimes, in my head. 
Telling me I was worthless. A burden. Something to be hidden and controlled. That I should have died with my mother. But now I’m married, even if it’s a contract. Even if it’s complicated. 
I’m not under his roof anymore. I have my own voice now. Even if it shakes. 
Christian may be cold, cruel, infuriating—but he never made me feel invisible. I stepped out of the G-Wagon slowly, the heels of my shoes clicking against the marble driveway like warning bells. The door opened before I even

Elizabeth POV I woke up feeling… lighter. Not happy, not really. But not crushed either. Just strangely calm, like my body had finally exhaled after holding its breath all night. Maybe it was because Christian was in my room when I got back. I’d passed out on his leg like some emotionally unstable cat, heels still on, dress digging into my ribs. And yet, when I woke up, both were gone. Wait— 
Who the hell took off my clothes? I looked down at myself in nothing but my underwear, I blinked and rolled my eyes. “Figures,” I muttered. “He didn’t care enough to wake me. Just stripped me and vanished like Batman.” I kicked the covers off, the air sharp against my legs as I got up and swept my hair into a loose, messy bun. I walked over to the window, and flung the curtains open. And nearly screamed. Parked just beside the fountain, bold and impossible to ignore, was a Rolls-Royce Cullinan Black Badge. But not just any Black Badge. Red. A d