All Chapters of Claimed by the billionaire : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Elizabeth POV The hiss of the espresso machine was the only thing I could hear over the hum of conversations. I adjusted the tray in my hands, balancing two steaming mugs as I wove between tables. Five months. Five months since my world collapsed. Five months since I went from being Christian Reed’s wife to the “fallen wife” everyone now whispered about. Since then, life had shifted into something ordinary and exhausting. I worked mornings at a small café downtown, afternoons helping at the bookstore, and nights wherever my grandmother could find a shift for me. My hands were always tired, my back ached more often than not, but I never complained. Not when Grandma Lily had carried us through the storm and still refused to stop. I had my daughter to think about. She was growing fast, asking harder questions, questions I could only half answer. Her laughter made the long hours worth it, but sometimes at night, when she was asleep beside me, the silence pressed too hard. And in

Elizabeth pov After a while, the hum of the room returned, laughter spilling over glasses of champagne, men in expensive suits shaking hands, women whispering behind jeweled fans. But I could still feel it—eyes on me. Every time I walked past with a tray balanced in my hands, I felt their stares, their whispers, the weight of their silent judgment pressing down on me. So I kept my head bowed, pretending the marble floor was the only thing worth looking at. Pretending their gazes didn’t burn holes into my skin. Pretending I wasn’t suffocating in humiliation. “Tonight, we want to extend our gratitude to our most generous benefactor,” the host’s voice rang out through the speakers, pulling everyone’s attention to the stage. “Though he couldn’t join us in person, Christian Reed, our biggest sponsor—has already made his contribution. His work in philanthropy and business continues to inspire…” My heart sank. The tray in my hands trembled. The name alone was enough to rip the ai

CHRISTIAN POV You know the kind of men who are obsessed with your life—who want everything you’ve built, every piece of what you are? That’s exactly what that creep is. He wanted my life. He’d been watching me from the shadows, studying, waiting. I know men like him. He isn’t the first. But this… this was different. There are a lot of things I can take from anybody. Betrayal. Envy. Even a knife in the back. But anyone laying a hand on Elizabeth? That was the height of it. That was the line no one would ever cross while I’m alive. That’s why I locked her in the restroom. She wouldn’t listen. Because she’d rather throw herself into the fire than accept I still had the power to put it out. I shouldn’t care. She doesn’t deserve it. That’s what I told myself. But the image of those bastards gawking at her, hungry, filthy eyes crawling over her like she was dirt had snapped something inside me. And when I came looking for her in that restroom, only to find that bastard’s hand c

ELIZABETH POV By the time the door finally creaked open, I’d already dozed off against the wall. I had begged Zac over and over, pleaded until my throat went dry, but he never so much as glanced at me. Dragging my legs off the floor, I stood with heavy, drowsy eyes. He looked at me stiffly. “You can leave now, Mrs. Reed.” “God! You’re all so cold-hearted. I hate you! I hate Christian more!” My voice rose, sharp and dramatic, because I couldn’t believe this. He had actually locked me in here for hours. Hours. And Zac hadn’t even flinched at my begging. “And it’s Elizabeth, not Mrs. Reed. Don’t mock me.” I rolled my eyes, though my chest still burned. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was following orders.” Of course he was. They all did. If he hadn’t, Christian probably would’ve done something despicable to him, too. I stormed into the changing room and ripped off the suffocating waitress uniform, replacing it with my normal clothes—a blue crop top and worn denim shorts. My hair went

CHRISTIAN POV The sharp clack of the cue ball echoed across the room as it struck a red, sending it rolling neatly into the corner pocket. I straightened, cue stick resting lightly against my palm, eyes fixed on the table though my mind was elsewhere. Playing alone had become a habit lately, it was easier to focus on the rhythm of the game than the silence of the house that used to hold Elizabeth’s chaos. “Where were you last night? You didn’t sleep at home,” Alex’s voice cut into the quiet, sharp and accusing. He sounded less like a friend and more like some clingy ex who couldn’t let go. I chalked the cue lazily, refusing to look at him. “And why should I tell you where I slept? Are you stalking me now?” I couldn’t admit the truth—that I hadn’t been sleeping here at all. That the thought of coming back to Elizabeth’s absence, to the untouched sheets and that hollow silence, felt like punishment. God, I missed her noise. “No, I wasn’t stalking you,” he shot back, irritation