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Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire's Hidden Vows: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

200 Kabanata

Chapter 11

The next morning, Savannah woke to the sound of muffled voices behind her door. She sat up slowly, nausea curling in her gut like a fist. The flutter she'd felt inside her belly the night before still echoed in her mind—faint, unreal. She pressed a palm to her abdomen, a silent question blooming behind her ribs. But she wasn’t ready to speak it into the world. Not yet.Her door opened with the familiar soft hiss of hydraulics. Colton entered first, his expression unreadable, a fortress behind his sharp cheekbones and tailored black suit. Behind him stood a woman in a white coat with ironed lapels and a briefcase in hand. Her hair was scraped back in a severe bun, and her shoes clicked against the marble as she walked.“This is Dr Halberd,” Colton said. “You collapsed. You’ll be examined.”Savannah blinked at her, then narrowed her eyes at Colton. “I didn’t ask for this.”Colton's mouth flattened. “You don’t need to. You live here. You’re under my protection.”“Protection”, she echoed

Chapter 12

The lights of the ballroom glittered like diamonds scattered across a velvet sky. Every chandelier shimmered with gold, every corner of the grand hall bursting with wealth and status. Savannah stood in the marble entryway, her fingers trembling around the clutch Colton had chosen for her.He stood behind her, adjusting the clasp on her necklace—the very one Magnolia had worn in the photograph she’d found. The same necklace, paired with the same dress.“I look like her,” Savannah said softly, her voice bitter.Colton’s breath touched her neck. “You’re better.”She turned to look at him, but his expression was already shuttered, distant. He offered his arm like a gentleman from a gilded cage.The car ride to the charity ball had been silent and tense. Now, as they crossed the polished floors and into a room full of wolves in tuxedos and diamonds, Savannah’s spine straightened. Her steps fell into rhythm with Colton’s. She wore the mask he expected: perfect wife, elegant, untouchable.Bu

Chapter 13

The storm didn’t come from outside—it brewed between them.Savannah stood at the threshold of Colton’s bedroom, chest heaving, heart racing. Her fingers still tingled from where he’d touched her, from the way his mouth had claimed hers with a desperation that frightened and thrilled her in equal measure.He hadn’t said a word since. He just stood there, barefoot on the polished floor, eyes dark and stormy, watching her like she was something fragile—and dangerous.“I’m not yours,” she whispered, though even to her own ears it sounded weak.He took a step closer. “You’ve been mine since the moment you said yes.”The space between them dissolved. There was no warning. No slow build.They collided.Clothes vanished like smoke. Buttons popped and skittered across the marble floor. Her dress crumpled at her feet like fallen grace. He pressed her back against the cold wall and kissed her as if he were drowning and she were the air.His mouth was fire, his hands rough, almost desperate. Sava

Chapter 14

The spa Colton had arranged for Savannah reeked of lavender and control. Everything about it—private, luxurious, and watched—felt like a cage with silk cushions. She sat stiffly in the massage chair, pretending to enjoy it while her mind churned. Her heart wasn’t calm; it beat in rapid thuds that no warm towel or soothing music could erase.Then she saw Delaney.Her old roommate stood in the doorway to the lounge, dressed as a staff assistant, her blonde curls tucked under a cap. Her eyes caught Savannah’s for a split second, and in that single glance, Savannah felt a jolt—an understanding, an urgent warning.Delaney moved forward briskly with a folded towel and murmured just loud enough, "Excuse me, ma’am," as she slipped the towel under Savannah’s arm.Something thin and plastic pressed against her palm.Savannah didn’t look down. She smiled instead, a tremor in her lips, and gave a tiny nod. Delaney turned on her heel and vanished like a ghost slipping back through walls.The rest

Chapter 15

The crash of glass shattered the penthouse silence like a bullet through still air.Savannah jerked upright from the couch, startled by the sound reverberating through the marbled halls. Her heart galloped inside her chest, every beat louder than the last. Dread curled in her stomach as she tiptoed barefoot across the cold floor, her silk robe fluttering around her ankles. The trail of sound led her to the west corridor—the surveillance wing Colton had strictly forbidden her to enter.But tonight, that rule felt like a whisper against the roar of chaos.She peered around the edge of the doorway.Colton was inside the control room.The screens that once buzzed with high-definition feeds now blinked erratically. Several were shattered, spiderwebbed with impact, black with sparks fizzing along exposed wires. An overturned chair lay beside a cracked console. He had ripped the cables from the walls. A desk lay broken in two under the heavy tread of his boot.Colton stood at the center like

Chapter 16

The third-floor library was the only place in the penthouse that felt untouched by steel and surveillance. It smelt of aged paper and old secrets. Savannah wandered through it restlessly, fingers trailing along the leather-bound spines. Her skin itched with unease, and her thoughts wouldn’t quiet. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet sounded like the whisper of ghosts.Books lined every wall, floor to ceiling, some pristine, others warped from humidity. There was a silence here that felt ancient. Unlike the cold precision of the rest of the penthouse, this room held emotion—haunting and strangely sacred.She hadn’t been back to this floor since she’d first seen the locked door. But now, something compelled her to return—not just curiosity, but a hunch, like something was waiting. A whisper beneath the silence, a tug behind her ribs. Something unsaid. Something unfinished.She passed a dusty globe, paused beside an old chaise longue, her eyes scanning the built-in shelves li

Chapter 17

The morning sun clawed its way through the tinted glass windows of Colton Briggs’ penthouse, painting Savannah’s skin in pale gold and amber. She stood at the edge of the living room, silent, the open journal weighing heavy in her hands like a loaded gun. The silence of the room, broken only by the ticking of an antique grandfather clock in the corner, matched the storm brewing inside her.She had read it—every word Magnolia Quinn scrawled in ink. Desperate, frantic handwriting danced across the blood-smeared pages like ghostly cries. Magnolia wasn’t just a memory. She was a warning.The entries had shifted Savannah’s foundation. Every assumption, every careful step she’d taken to survive this strange marriage was now cracked beneath her. Magnolia had fought. Magnolia had lost. But not before uncovering something dangerous. Something Savannah had to face now, or it would consume her too.She looked up from the journal. Her eyes settled on the massive oil painting above the fireplace—C

Chapter 18

The city hadn’t yet shaken off the storm. Rain still dripped from trees like tears, and the sky clung to a damp, brooding gray. Savannah sat beneath the canopy of a quiet café tucked inside Crestwood Park. Her hood was up, sunglasses masking her tired eyes. Around her, the world moved gently—clinking dishes, low murmurs—but inside her chest, there was only thunder.She kept stirring her tea long after the sugar had dissolved. Her fingers trembled slightly. The bruise on her wrist—Colton’s doing—peeked from her coat sleeve.Across from her sat Sawyer Langston.The same boy who once wrote her poems on the back of diner napkins was now a man worn by secrets. His golden hair, soaked at the edges, curled above eyes more serious than she remembered. His leather jacket, damp and creased, clung to his broad frame like a second skin.“You look tired,” he said softly.“I am,” Savannah answered without looking at him.He shifted in his seat, resting both elbows on the table like he might reach a

Chapter 19

The vault’s door whispered shut behind her like a final breath, locking Savannah in with the dead.The light overhead was cold and clinical, humming with the low, mechanical pulse of a mausoleum disguised as a room. The air was faintly metallic, sterile—too clean, as if death itself had been scrubbed from the surfaces, but not from the soul of the place. Savannah stood at the threshold, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, a subconscious shield.Before her, a glass display case gleamed beneath a spotlight. Magnolia Quinn’s life—or what little of it remained—was encased behind thick panes. Artifacts of a woman erased.There was lipstick the color of dried cherries, worn down to a stub. Pink ballet slippers, their tips softened from years of use and stained with something brownish and long dried. A necklace—pearls strung with silver thread—cracked at the clasp, one bead missing, like a smile interrupted. But the centerpiece was the wedding dress.Magnolia’s wedding dress.It hung

Chapter 20

The private clinic smelled of sterile floors and hidden money.Savannah moved silently down the corridor, her heels clicking softly against marble tiles. The walls were painted in warm beige tones, artwork lining them in carefully selected frames—a false sense of comfort, masking the fact that this was no ordinary hospital. Her mother had been transferred here two weeks ago, she’d been told. Transferred without Savannah’s permission. Without a name.Something wasn’t right.She passed the nurse’s station, eyes scanning for cameras. There was one above the breakroom entrance and another pointed at the elevator—silent witnesses. Savannah’s hand slid into her coat pocket where Rhett had slipped her the temporary admin access keycard, his voice a low whisper in her memory: “Five minutes. That’s all you get.”She slid the card into the security panel. The monitor lit up.The last three weeks of hallway footage played in accelerated motion: nurses walking, patients rolling, faceless in hospi

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