Semua Bab When Love Crosses the Line: Bab 201 - Bab 210

Liam didn’t say a word when he saw Amara enter his apartment, her coat slung over one arm, her fingers absently brushing the diamond that now felt heavier than ever on her hand. He had been pacing, a silent tempest confined within four walls, his jaw tight, fists clenched. The moment the door clicked shut, he turned, and she saw it, his eyes.The storm in them.It wasn’t the anger the way she had seen before, the kind that burned and passed like a fire. This was something more elemental, more consuming. His storm didn’t just threaten; it demanded attention, demanded truth. And Amara, standing frozen in the doorway, felt its pull immediately.“You saw him,” Liam said finally, his voice low, almost shaking with suppressed intensity.Amara nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Her throat felt dry, her chest tight. “He… he showed up at the restaurant.”Liam’s hands went to his hair, tugging at the dark strands in frustration, the storm in his eyes darkening with every word she spoke. “At your

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains of Amara’s flat, painting the room in warm, golden tones. The air smelled faintly of coffee, freshly brewed, and the faint aroma of the pastries Amara had grabbed from the corner bakery. For a brief moment, the world seemed calm, almost forgiving. But that calm was fragile, like glass, and she felt it cracking under the weight of what was to come.Her phone buzzed with a single notification: a message from her mother. Can I come by?Amara’s heart sank. She knew what this visit meant. Her mother, Mrs. Collins, had always had a sixth sense for storms brewing in her daughter’s life. And she never visited without purpose.Moments later, the soft knock at the door came. Amara opened it to find her mother standing there, perfectly composed in a crisp blouse and skirt, her eyes betraying a mixture of concern and subtle disapproval.“Morning, Mum,” Amara said, stepping aside to let her in.“Morning, darling,” her mother replied,

The apartment was quiet that evening, the kind of quiet that made every small sound feel magnified. Amara sat on the edge of her sofa, a cup of tea cooling in her hands, while the city outside glimmered in its familiar hum. The lights of London stretched endlessly, a sea of gold and silver that seemed both comforting and isolating.Her gaze drifted to the small envelope that had been slipped under her door earlier that day. She hadn’t touched it since discovering it, the sight of Darren’s unmistakable handwriting enough to make her heart stutter. The sharp angles of the letters, the bold loops, the casual yet deliberate scrawl, it was him. No mistaking it.The envelope sat there, pristine and untouched, a silent intruder in her home. It had been there for hours, staring at her like a challenge she wasn’t ready to meet. She knew, in her heart, what it was: a message, a provocation, a reminder that the past she thought she had left behind was still very much alive.Amara’s fingers itche

The night was long, and despite Liam’s vulnerability softening into the warmth of their shared embrace, sleep didn’t come easily for Amara. She lay awake in the penthouse bedroom, staring at the ceiling as the shadows shifted with every flicker of light from the city below. Beside her, Liam slept restlessly, turning now and again, as if even in dreams he wrestled with fears too great to silence.Amara traced the curve of his shoulder with her eyes, the strong lines of his back etched against the dim light. To the world, Liam was untouchable, yet here he was, curled around her like a man seeking shelter rather than offering it. Her heart clenched. He had confessed his deepest fear, and though she had promised him strength and loyalty, the weight of his words lingered heavily in her mind. Losing her wasn’t just his fear; it was hers, too.Her thoughts drifted back to Darren, the way his presence always disrupted their lives, his persistence in clawing back into her world. Darren was a g

The boardroom at Liam’s headquarters was sleek and imposing, a glass-and-steel monument to power and precision. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the London skyline, the city lights glimmering like stars against the inky night. The room was silent, almost unbearably so, as the executives gathered around the polished mahogany table.Liam sat at the head, fingers steepled, his usual calm and commanding presence slightly frayed at the edges. The day had been long, a relentless series of meetings and calls, but tonight’s discussion promised to be different; he could feel it. The undercurrent of tension in the air was palpable, and it carried a familiar, insidious scent: threat.Whispers.It had started subtly at first, an offhand comment from a competitor, a vague hint in a financial report, a minor investor expressing concern over “potential instability.” But over the past month, those whispers had grown louder, sharper, and more coordinated. Rumors of scandals, of mismanagement, of be