Semua Bab Wicked Vows: The CEO'S Secret Heir: Bab 11 - Bab 20

That night, I rushed my mother home.The sky outside had turned the color of charcoal, the last traces of sunlight bleeding away into the darkness like spilled ink. The car ride was silent except for the steady sound of the tires slicing across the wet road and my mother’s shaky breaths beside me. Her hands trembled in her lap, fingers twisted tightly together as if she could squeeze the pain out of herself if she just held on hard enough. I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on us both—too heavy, too cruel, too fast.When we reached the apartment, she didn’t say a word. She just walked through the front door like she didn’t recognize it anymore. Like it wasn’t ours. Like home had become another stranger in a world full of betrayals.Her body sank onto the couch with a slow, dragging motion, every step taken as though her bones were made of glass. She sat there, completely still, her eyes wide open but staring at nothing. Not the wall. Not the photos. Not me. Just… noth

POV: Siena BlakeThe world narrowed to a single choice: fight or run, and I chose to run. I didn’t scream because screaming wouldn’t save me. I sprinted across the parking lot, ducking between two dumpsters with my heart pounding, lungs burning, and adrenaline surging like fire through my veins. I climbed the back fence, tore my jeans on the wire, and landed hard on the other side, forcing myself not to stop.I circled around the building and found the bathroom window I had noticed earlier, the one the housekeeper had left cracked open. I shoved it wider and climbed inside, slipping on the tile and crashing to the floor.“Mom,” I gasped, barely able to breathe.She sat up instantly, eyes wide, still half-asleep.“They found us,” I panted. “We have to go. Now.”She didn’t ask who or how. She simply moved.We abandoned everything—our bags, my laptop, her medicine. The only thing I grabbed was the scarf-wrapped bundle from the bottom of my bag, the one that held the ring, the chip, and

POV: Siena BlakeThe first few weeks at L&V Creative Studio moved by so fast, it felt like I had barely blinked and time had flown. But even in that blur, every second of it was real to me. Every thread, every spool of thread, every clipboard, every coffee run—it mattered. Because it meant I was surviving.There was something comforting about the constant activity. The buzz of sewing machines, the sound of scissors snipping through fabric, the light rustle of papers and patterns being laid out across long tables. The soft perfume that lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of hot coffee and fresh ink from printers. It wasn’t glamorous—not at my level—but it was real. It gave me something to hold onto. Something that was mine.I arrived earlier than everyone else, sometimes even before the lights were on. I’d unlock the doors, straighten the chairs, make coffee. No one asked me to. I just did it. I stayed long after my shift, too, offering to organize fabric samples, sweep the corne

POV: Siena BlakePregnancy didn’t come with a rulebook.No one told me how to do it—how to survive it—when my entire life was falling apart around me. There were no step-by-step guides on how to stay strong when your name was dragged through gossip, when your past haunted you like a shadow, and when the man who fathered your child didn’t even know you existed… or worse, didn’t care.But somehow, I made it through each day.Even when I could barely stand. Even when my legs trembled, my heart felt heavy, and my stomach turned in ways I didn’t understand. The morning sickness was worse than I’d ever imagined—it wasn’t just in the morning. It came like waves, cruel and uninvited, stealing my appetite and my energy. I threw up often, sometimes once a day, sometimes more. My back ached. My feet hurt. My neck would get stiff after sitting for too long, but I couldn’t lie down comfortably either. Some nights, I just sat by the window, too exhausted to sleep and too scared to think.But I stil

POV: Siena BlakeFive years ago, I left Weston without a single word.No letters. No explanations. No goodbyes.I didn’t even look back when the car pulled away from the city limits that night. I was numb, raw, and dragging behind me the broken pieces of everything I once cared about. My reputation was destroyed. My name had become a scandal. My family was torn apart. And the world that once opened doors for me had slammed every one of them shut.I disappeared like smoke in the wind. Quiet. Fast. Forgotten.But today—today, I returned.Not as the girl they once knew.Not as the broken, humiliated version of Siena Blake who had been chased out of her own life.Today, I came back in heels.High. Sharp. Loud.I stood in front of the towering skyscraper of Voss Global, the very heart of luxury fashion and one of the most powerful names in the industry. The glass glistened in the morning sun, rising above the city like a throne carved from ice. Every window reflected a version of the world