All Chapters of Claimed by the billionaire : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Elizabeth’s POV After what happened yesterday at the event, I dragged myself to the café the next morning. Work was better than sitting at home thinking about everything I couldn’t change. Christian was never going to see me for who I really was, and he’d never understand me. Alex’s words from last night kept circling in my head… or maybe it was the way he’d looked at Hope when he saw her. He knew something. I just didn’t know what. The thought made my stomach twist. I slipped two cups under the coffee machine, watching the dark liquid pour in. Once they filled, I set them on a tray and turned—only to nearly crash right into him. A loud gasp tore out of me. My grip faltered, the tray wobbling, but Christian’s hand shot out and caught it. He set it down firmly on the counter. “Careful,” he said, motioning to the plain white t-shirt stretched across his chest. “I’d hate to have to throw this out.” My chest tightened. What the hell was he doing here? How did he ev

CHRISTIAN POV The glass hit the counter harder than I meant, amber liquid splashing over my fingers. I didn’t even bother wiping it away. My chest felt like it was caving in, every breath jagged, useless. I downed the whiskey in one swallow. It burned, but nowhere near enough. Nothing ever could. Her tears. Her voice breaking when she told me to go. The way she looked at me like I was the very thing that destroyed her… it was worse than any bullet to the chest. I never begged anyone since I turned twenty, no one. But in that moment, with her tears cutting me open like blades, I would’ve dropped to my knees and begged if it meant undoing the damage I’d caused. The glass was too small for the storm inside me. I tossed it aside and seized the bottle of whiskey, pressing it to my lips and drinking until fire scorched my throat. Still, the pain in my chest refused to fade. Nothing dulled it. Nothing could. God, I wished the ground would split open and swallow me whole. She was

ELIZABETH POV It’s been a month and five days since I told Christian to stay away from me. And this time, he actually listened. No shadow lurking in the corners, no sudden visits, no arrogant voice calling me Red when I least expected it. Just silence. I should be relieved. I should be able to breathe again. But instead, I find myself missing him. Missing the chaos, the heat, the way his presence filled every space in my life whether I wanted it or not. And even when I fight it, a part of me wonders how he’s doing. Is he drowning himself in whiskey again? Is he thinking about me? About… us? I forced the thoughts down. I couldn’t let myself drown in that spiral again. So today, I decided to go out. Clear my head. The little bookstore in town had always been my safe place. Quiet. Steady. Somewhere I could hide inside stories that weren’t mine. I asked the café manager for a break, and he didn’t hesitate. Lately, he’s been unusually kind, he raised my pay, cut down my shifts. I k

Elizabeth’s POV I had finally reached out to Christian through one of his ever-faithful workers, the same ones he kept sending to deliver gifts I hadn’t asked for. A few days ago, he sent me fifty pre-release books. Romance novels, of course. Top-notch titles that weren’t supposed to hit shelves for months, yet somehow Christian had gotten them early. I’d binged through almost every single one. They gave me a peace I hadn’t felt in weeks, curling up in their stories, forgetting my own. But what unsettled me more was how he knew exactly the kind of books I loved. That man noticed everything, even the details I thought no one else did. Then yesterday, I woke up to roses. Not a dozen. Not a hundred. Fifteen hundred. My entire doorstep had been swallowed by red. There was a note tucked between the stems. “I miss you, Red. I still wake up reaching for you, and it’s hell when you’re not there.” My heart clenched so tight reading those words I nearly tore the paper in half. I could

Elizabeth POV “Wait—hold on,” I said, my eyes darting between the two of them. “Why would you call my daughter ice cream girl? And you—” I turned to Hope, still wide-eyed and pink-cheeked. “Why would you call him Mr. Grumpy?” Hope fidgeted with the hem of her strawberry dress, her tiny voice barely above a whisper. “I met Mr. Grumpy with Grandma.” My jaw dropped. “Wait, what?” Christian half-laughed, disbelief etched into his sharp features. “No wonder the DNA authentication door opened for her. Once again, I’ve been blind all along.” “You’ve met her before?” I demanded, whipping my gaze between them, my heart pounding like it wanted to escape my chest. Christian gave a small nod, his voice lower now, almost thoughtful. “Yes. I was at work… she came into the building without an access card. An old woman was with her, your grandmother, I assume.” My mouth parted. The ground beneath me felt like it was tilting. “Hope, you didn’t tell me,” I said, my voice sharper than I