Semua Bab THE BILLIONAIRE LAST LIE : Bab 11 - Bab 20

"Eva Monroe's Point Of View'' The nurses let me stay for an hour.One hour. I spent what felt like an eternity—sixty agonizing minutes—behind a hospital curtain, watching my little brother lie there, unconscious and connected to machines that beeped like a relentless countdown I couldn’t stop. His skin seemed almost transparent under the harsh fluorescent lights, his lips cracked and parched, and his lashes barely fluttered with any sign of life.I sat quietly by his side, holding a hand that didn’t respond to mine.The disguise Cassian had forced on me felt like it was chafing my skin raw under my chin. The cheap black wig, the oversized hoodie. No one would recognize me—just some grieving ghost visiting ICU. That was the idea.Liam never opened his eyes. I whispered things he couldn’t hear. There are so many things I kept to myself while he was awake. I did apologize for pulling him into my chaos. For trusting the wrong people. For being the reason he was here.Then the nurse retur

Cassian's Point of View She didn't expect me to say yes.The doctor had barely finished listing the side effects when I leaned back in the stiff vinyl chair and said, “Do it.” No fanfare. No second thoughts. I didn’t even glance at Eva.She should’ve looked proud. Vindicated. Instead, she just looked tired. Like she'd been bracing for something else.But I wasn't being brave. I was just done pretending.I signed the forms with the same hand I used to close nine-figure deals across glass-topped tables. That hand used to be steady. Now, it shook.By the second day, the treatment started to hit. First came the nausea. Then the fever. Every sound felt too loud. My own skin felt like it didn’t fit right.Eva stayed.I never asked her to.She just kept showing up. Wearing old sweaters, hair tied back, a book always in hand. She didn’t try to fix it. Didn’t push. She just sat beside me like it was the most normal thing in the world.“Chapter six?” she asked one morning, her voice soft but s

Vivienne’s POV → Cassian’s POVI hadn’t seen him in years. Not like this.The moment I walked into the hospital room, I felt my breath hitch in my throat. The sterile air stung my lungs, but it wasn’t just the antiseptic smell or the metallic whir of machines that overwhelmed me—it was him.Cassian.My son.He lay there, motionless beneath the thin white sheets, tangled in a web of wires, bruises, and a fading pallor. The strong, vibrant boy I once held now seemed so small, a mere shadow of his former self. Monitors blinked beside him, their quiet beeps counting the regrets I could never undo.I stood frozen a few feet from his bedside, unable to take another step closer. The sound of my heels clicking against the tile floor felt too loud, too intrusive. I despised it. I hated how out of place I felt in this room, in his life.My arms ached to reach out—to smooth his hair, to hold his hand. But I didn’t move. I didn’t touch him.I no longer knew if I had the right.He looked older. No

Cassian—First Person, Past Tense I knew something was wrong the moment Eva stopped looking me in the eye. At first, I thought it was stress. The pressure of the agreement. The lingering fallout from the hospital scare with Liam. But no—this was different. She was withdrawing, piece by piece. Folding into herself like someone preparing to disappear. I saw her one afternoon packing sweaters in the guest room—mine. Not hers. A quiet precision in her hands, the kind of folding you only do when you’re organizing your exit. I leaned against the doorframe. What’s going on with you? She didn’t bat an eye, not even bothering to act surprised. “Just tidying up. It’s almost time, right?” There it was again. That phrase. I crossed my arms. “Time for what?” She gave me a soft smile, the kind meant to pacify. “You said it was only a year, didn’t you?” I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. My stomach twisted in knots. Her voice was airy, yet I could sense the underlying tension—the silent, urgent st

"Eva's Monroe Point Of View'' I walked—nowhere in particular. Just wandering like a lost dog... one who’d just lost its owner.” The pavement stretched out beneath me like a blur. I couldn’t feel my feet. Just the burning in my throat and the sting in my eyes. My coat was half-buttoned, hair stuck to my cheek, and I knew I looked like someone on the edge. I was someone on the edge. People stared. Or maybe they didn’t. I couldn’t tell anymore. Every face looked like suspicion, every car horn like a warning. My fingers trembled. My breathing sounded too loud in my ears. Herper’s harsh words kept ringing in my ears. Tears ran down my cheek… where am I going to see that huge amount of money? I was so distracted, I didn’t see the car until it was nearly brushing against my side. Then I heard music. Blaring through car speakers. A song I hadn’t heard in years. I blinked, trying to locate the sound. A car pulled up slowly to the curb. I looked up, squinting through the haze o