Semua Bab HIS BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET {MxM}: Bab 51 - Bab 60

Noah’s pov The morning after Adrian slipped that ring on my finger, I woke up with sunlight streaming in through the curtains, warm and gentle against my face. My eyes blinked open slowly, and there he was, lying beside me, propped on his elbow, staring like I was some kind of miracle. His lips curved into that slow smile I loved so much, the one that always made my chest tighten. My hand lifted unconsciously, the cool metal of the ring brushing my cheek as I touched him. The reality of what had happened the night before kept hitting me in waves. I had said yes. I hadn’t just said yes, I had meant it with every part of me, with every scar, every piece of brokenness I had ever carried. “Good morning, fiancé,” Adrian murmured, his voice still rough from sleep. I laughed, feeling the joy bloom inside me all over again. “Good morning,” I whispered back. My chest tightened as his fingers brushed mine, tracing the ring, as though he couldn’t stop reassuring himself it was still there. W

Adrian’s POV The days after the whirlwind of reunions and reconciliations felt strangely soft, as though the world itself had taken a breath and decided to hand us peace. I woke each morning to quiet sunlight pooling across the bedroom floor, the sheets warm with Noah curled against me, his hair always a mess, his breathing steady and familiar. The sharp edges of our lives had smoothed out into something gentle. Coffee brewing in the kitchen, the faint sound of him humming to himself while he moved about the house, evenings spent on the couch with our legs tangled, talking about everything and nothing, this was what I had once thought I could never have. I caught myself staring at him too often. He would tilt his head back laughing at something simple, and I would feel my chest pull tight with a gratitude that nearly overwhelmed me. Life had been cruel to him, cruel to us both, but here he was, still open to love, still willing to let me in. Every quiet hour felt like a gift I wante

Adrian’s pov The days leading up to the wedding blurred together in a flurry of checklists, appointments, and last-minute decisions, but beneath all the joy was a pulse of unease. Noah tried his best to pretend the threat did not hang over us, and I tried even harder to shield him from the weight of it, yet the truth lingered in the air like smoke. Jasper’s message, the blood-marked invitation, had unsettled everyone. The house felt tighter, the laughter shorter, and each step outside made me hyperaware of eyes that might be watching. Security became our new rhythm. Guards were doubled, gates reinforced, schedules altered. Even friends who came to visit were checked thoroughly before they stepped foot inside. It should have felt oppressive, but instead it was a reminder of how fragile the joy we were trying to protect was. Every layer of protection meant one more chance that Noah’s smile would not be dimmed. That alone made me willing to tolerate anything. Yet in private moments, w

Noah’s POV The morning light spilled through the curtains, soft and golden, the kind of light that seemed too perfect to be real. I woke with a mixture of nerves and excitement thrumming through my veins, the realization settling in that this wasn’t just another day, it was the day. My wedding day. The day I would stand in front of everyone, but most importantly in front of Adrian, and promise him forever. My heart hammered as I sat up in bed. I had dreamed of this moment, but nothing compared to the reality of it pressing down on me. My hands shook as I pressed them together, not from fear of marrying him. I had never been more certain of anything, but from the sheer weight of it all. This was the culmination of everything we had fought for, everything we had endured to find our way here. I showered, dressed, and let the stylists fuss over my hair and clothes. I barely registered half of what they said, their voices blurred by the pounding in my chest. I caught my reflection in th

Noah's POV The sun spilled across the tarmac as we walked hand in hand toward the sleek jet Adrian had arranged. The warmth of the day seemed to match the glow in my chest. Everything about this moment, our fingers intertwined, the promise of days ahead with no interruptions, no threats hanging directly overhead, felt like a dream that had taken too long to reach. After everything we had endured, after every wound, every sleepless night, every brush with fear, we finally had this: time for ourselves. I glanced at Adrian, his sharp suit traded for something lighter, more casual, but still carrying that air of control he could never quite shed. He caught me staring, smiled, and tugged me closer, his lips brushing against my temple. “You’re staring again,” he teased. “I’ve earned the right,” I murmured, leaning into him as the engines hummed in preparation. The jet represented freedom, but the truer liberation was in knowing that, for once, survival was not the only thing dictating o