Todos os capítulos de The Billionaire Legacy : Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

John’s Pov.The day’s been too damn long.Since their absence, it had always been long, way long and boring.I’m driving home from the office, the city half-asleep in the orange dusk. My jacket’s off, tie loose, one hand on the wheel, the other rubbing the back of my neck. All I can think about is a shower, a drink, and silence.Then I see it.A man sitting by my gate.He’s old, older than me, at least with graying hair and a face that looks like it’s seen too many winters. The security guards are already there, two of them, trying to make him leave. One gestures sharply toward the street. The other folds his arms, waiting.Normally, I’d drive right past, hit the button, and let the gates close behind me. I don’t do visitors. Not here. Especially not strangers.But tonight… I don’t know. Something makes me stop.Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting. Not angry, not desperate just tired. Like a man who’s been fighting something invisible for too long and finally gave up.“Sir, please,” one o

Charlse Pov.John didn’t say a word. He just sat there, the firelight dancing across his face. So I kept talking because if I stopped, I’d never be able to say it again.“I thought I was already dead, John,” I began, voice shaking a little. “They kept us in an underground place… a basement, deep below a building. No windows, no air, just that smell of damp and iron. I don’t even remember how many days passed. Could’ve been weeks. I lost count.”He said nothing, just watched me.“They tied me to a chair. My hands, my legs… the ropes cut deep into my skin. Every time I tried to move, it burned. They fed me once a day, sometimes not at all. Just enough to keep me breathing. And Peter” I swallowed hard, my voice breaking. “Peter would cry, John. All the time. He’d cry until his voice gave out. They forced him to eat when he wouldn’t. Said if he didn’t eat, they’d stop bringing food altogether. He was just a child, John. Just a little boy.”My eyes blurred, but I kept talking. “Sometimes

Charlse Pov.The food went down too easily.I hadn’t eaten properly in days, maybe longer, and my body didn’t know what to do with something warm that actually tasted like food. The maid didn’t ask many questions just came in with a tray, said, “You should eat, sir,” and left quietly.I sat at the small table near the window, spoon scraping against the bowl. I didn’t even ask what kind of soup it was. Maybe chicken. Maybe vegetables. It didn’t matter. It was warm, salty, and real. My hands trembled a little as I lifted the spoon. I tried to steady them, but they wouldn’t stop shaking.I could hear my stomach making noises as if it was reminding me how long I’d neglected it. I finished everything, down to the last drop, and tore the bread apart with my hands like I was afraid someone might take it away.When the tray was empty, I sat back in the chair, breathing slow. The warmth spread through my chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel cold. I didn’t fee

Charlse Pov.I’d been awake long before dawn.The sky was still a bruised gray when I gave up on pretending to sleep and got out of bed. The sheets were warm and soft, but my body wouldn’t stay still. My mind kept replaying John’s words from last night. She’s at the hospital… she’s coping.Coping.That single word kept echoing like a cough in an empty room. It didn’t sound like living; it sounded like someone holding on by a thread.By the time the first light slipped through the window, I was already dressed, sitting stiffly in the parlor downstairs. The house was quiet, too quiet. Somewhere in the distance a kettle whistled, and a maid’s soft footsteps moved across the tiled floor.I waited.I’d been waiting for years, it felt like waiting for a second chance, waiting to be forgiven, waiting to see her again.When I heard the creak of the staircase, my head jerked up.John McQueen descended step by step, steady and deliberate, dressed in a dark navy suit that looked pressed straight

Charles Pov.The first thing I felt was the weight in my arm. A dull ache, like something had been pushed into me and forgotten there. Then the cold. Not sharp or painful just this slow, crawling chill spreading through my veins.I blinked. The world swam back in blurry shapes. White ceiling. Dim fluorescent lights. The steady, soft beeping of a monitor.For a second, I didn’t know where I was. Then it hit me the hospital, the machines, her.I tried to move, but my body didn’t respond right away. Everything felt heavy, like I was waking up underwater. My tongue was dry. My throat burned.I swallowed, tried to speak, but what came out was barely a whisper.“Where… where is she?”A nurse turned from a nearby counter. I didn’t recognize her younger, maybe mid-twenties, kind eyes. She put down a clipboard and came closer.“Mr. Charles, you’re awake,” she said softly. “Please don’t move too quickly. You had a reaction earlier we had to calm you down.”Calm me down.The words slid throu