Semua Bab The Billionaire's Hidden Vows: Bab 21 - Bab 30

The apartment was quiet—eerily so. No hum from the security panel, no distant click of Rhett’s boots against marble, no clinking of glasses from the wet bar. Savannah sat in the dark, illuminated only by the cold, silver flicker of the laptop screen. Her fingers were white against the keyboard, trembling with a tension that had nothing to do with caffeine.She watched the video again—frame by frame.Magnolia’s image was grainy, shrouded in static. But there was no mistaking her. Even with blood at the corner of her mouth and panic in her dark eyes, she moved with the delicate grace of someone trained to hide pain behind posture. The camera shook slightly, as if it had been placed somewhere unstable. Behind her, a metal chair leg cast a shadow on what appeared to be rough concrete. Pipes—rusted—maybe a basement, maybe industrial.Savannah leaned closer.There. In the upper left corner, a blur—a metal sign, maybe a serial plate. She paused the video, squinting, enhancing contrast. Lette

The storm had crept in on whispering feet, draping itself over the city like a shroud. It pressed heavy against the penthouse windows, its voice a lullaby of thunder and rain that bled into every wall of Colton's silent empire.Savannah walked into the study as if summoned by the very shadows. She didn’t knock. She didn’t announce herself. She entered like someone with a right to destroy.Colton was already there. Of course he was—coiled in stillness before the fireplace, a glass of untouched scotch in his hand. The flame lit his profile like a chiaroscuro portrait, angles and menace carved in quiet elegance.“I found it,” she said without preamble. Her voice cut through the hush like a match struck in a tomb.He didn’t turn.“Prenatal vitamins,” she continued. “Purchased last week. Your name. Your card.”Still, he was stone.Savannah stepped further in, the storm catching her hair and making it flicker like black fire. “You knew before I did. You knew I was pregnant and said nothing.

The rain hadn’t stopped for hours. It blurred the skyline, softened the jagged teeth of the city into watercolor smears. Savannah stood at the edge of the penthouse terrace, her arms wrapped around herself, the wind slapping wet strands of hair against her cheeks. The storm outside felt quieter than the one inside her.Then she felt him.Colton’s presence pressed into the air behind her like heat in a blackout. His steps were slow, cautious, and deliberate. For once, he didn’t announce himself with arrogance or authority—just silence and the scent of leather, salt, and something darker still.“I can’t lose you,” he said hoarsely.His voice cracked something open in her, but she didn’t turn. She didn’t move.“You never had me to lose,” she said softly, each word dragged through glass.Colton moved closer. He didn’t touch her. That was what made it worse. That restraint. That unbearable tension. The man who once claimed her body like it was a kingdom now stood trembling before her, no c

Savannah felt the weight of fate press against her as she entered the Mercy Medical Board’s private lounge. Rich mahogany walls reflected her wavering determination in fragmented shards, and the chandelier overhead scattered flecks of light across the sheer folds of her tailored dress. She sat poised in a sleek leather chair, knuckles white around an exposed contract folder—her heart thundering an averted pulse.Weston Monroe sat opposite her, an isle of calculated calm. He folded one slender wrist over the other, his fingers drumming out a rhythm she already knew by memory: power, control, restraint.“This is straightforward,” he offered. His voice slithered over her nerves like silk edged with poison. “One evening in my company. I restore your mother’s medical autonomy in full. Funds released. No board oversight. Your mother’s independence guaranteed.”Savannah bristled. “One night.” She watched each word weigh on the table between them, more substantial than trillions of dollars. “

The watch was small. Insignificant in size. But not in weight. It pressed into Savannah’s palm like a crucifixion nail—gleaming faintly beneath the courtroom lighting. Even in death, her father haunted this room. And now, in her fingers, was the artifact that tied Colton to the grave like a noose.The engraving shimmered like a secret uncoiling.C.S.C.Her voice was barely audible, but it cracked like thunder. “It was found buried near his grave. Weston had it tested. The initials match your name. Colton Sterling Crane.”Colton’s face remained maddeningly blank, a pale, elegant statue carved from frost. Behind him, the shadows of the courtroom blurred—judges, stenographers, opposing counsel—all reduced to silhouettes around this singular, bleeding moment.“That watch isn’t mine,” he said at last, voice low and dangerous. “It was planted.”“Planted?” Savannah hissed, stepping forward. “Colton, your father gave it to you. I’ve seen photos. You wore it when we first met. It’s yours.”His