Semua Bab The Stranger My Heart Belonged To: Bab 31 - Bab 40

SADIE’S POVThe phone buzzed weakly against my palm, the screen still lit with Casey’s name even though I’d let it ring twice before answering.My voice was hoarse from crying, raw from silence, and barely alive when I whispered, “Hey.”“Sadie?” Casey’s voice was careful. Too careful. “How are you there?”I hesitated.The truth clung to my throat like smoke. I didn’t want to lie. But the truth felt too fragile to say out loud, like if I spoke it, it would grow teeth and rip me open all over again.“I’m… okay,” I said softly, trying to sound stronger than I felt. I didn’t know what okay meant anymore.It just sounded better than the truth: I’d been crying alone in a luxury suite, dressed in someone else’s clothes, clutching my knees to my chest like a scared child.There was a pause. Then Casey’s voice returned, more serious now.“I didn’t want to drop bad news on you, but—someone broke into your apartment. The building called me. Said the door was forced open. The place is a mess.”Fo

SADIE’S POV“Maybe I was wrong, but from the look of this video… It seems like you actually like Damon.”The voice echoed in my ears as I stared at the sleek tablet resting on the table between us, the screen still dark from when I’d flipped it face down. Like hiding it could erase what I’d just seen. What they had just seen.I should’ve never opened that video. I should’ve left it untouched. Should’ve walked out of this room the moment I was handed the damn thing.Because five seconds—five seconds were all it took to shake the foundation of everything I thought I knew about myself.Me, standing outside Damon’s suite door. Me, laughing. Flushed cheeks. My hand pressed against his chest. My fingers curling in his collar like I belonged there. My mouth moving too close to his ear.No audio. Just images.And they were enough to damn me.I blinked hard, trying to wash the sting from my eyes, but it didn’t help. I pushed the tablet away like it burned. Then sat back down, quietly, carefull

SADIE’S POVDamon’s driver dropped us off just after sunset. The London sky still clung to my skin—gray, heavy, full of things unsaid. Damon didn’t say much the entire ride home. Just a brief nod to the chauffeur, a stiffer one to me. Like the silence between us was safer than any words could ever be.I stepped into his residence, and it hit me.Glass walls. Marble floors. Everything polished until it looked like it cost more than my entire past. I didn’t even know what part of the city we were in. It felt like another world—cold, sterile, untouchable.Some kind of butler—I didn’t catch his name, too overwhelmed—met us at the door and started explaining the basics. The house had wings. Wings. Like a museum. Like a place that never expected to feel like home.He turned to me, still polite. “This way, Miss,” he said, already walking ahead, voice formal and rehearsed. “You’ll be staying in the east guest suite until the wedding. Then, of course, you’ll move into the master. We’ll also be

SADIE’S POVIt had been a few weeks since that day—The day Bella showed up and everything cracked a little deeper.Since then, a lot had happened. Quiet things. Heavy things. Things I didn’t talk about.I finally managed to go back to my old apartment, just once, just long enough to salvage what was left of my life there. Though “salvage” is generous. Most of it was already gone. What remained looked like it had survived a war.The place was ransacked—drawers pulled out and flung across the floor, picture frames shattered, furniture overturned. Someone had slashed my clothes open with a knife. Like they wanted me to feel unsafe in my own skin, not just my own home.Damon had been right. I hated that he had been right—that going alone, at night, would’ve been dangerous. But admitting that, even to myself, felt like giving him too much power. So I buried the thought, deep.I also visited the orphanage where I was raised, and started helping out there as a part-time volunteer.I told Cas

SADIE’S POVThe ballroom was too bright.The mirrors stretched too high. The chandeliers shimmered like they were mocking me—perfect, poised, out of reach.I tried to mimic the instructor’s steps. Tried to stay graceful. Balanced. Tried not to trip over the kind of shoes girls like me were never meant to wear.But I wasn’t used to this.Not the dance. Not the rhythm. Not the way Damon’s hand felt against my spine, cold and firm and steady like he hated holding me but refused to let me fall.Again.It was the third time I’d tripped that day. And it wasn’t the worst one.My heel snagged. My foot twisted. The floor tilted—And then I was in his arms.Breath gone. Pulse spiked.His hand was locked around my waist. His chest solid against mine. Too solid. His scent—clean, masculine, expensive—washed over me like something I wasn’t supposed to miss.I didn’t want to look up.Because I knew what I’d see.And I wasn’t wrong.His eyes were on me. Cold, unreadable, but burning underneath. Just