All Chapters of The Billionaire Who Bought Me The Moon: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

She pushed herself up slowly, wincing at the dull ache in her ribs. Every bruise tugged at her movement, a reminder of the crash and of Jason's "punishment" the night before. She slipped out of bed, wrapped her robe around herself, and tried to shake off the unsettling heaviness that lingered on her skin. The doorbell chimed. Margaret called up the stairs a second later. "Miss Samantha? The doctor has arrived." Right. Jason's newest decree. She padded into one of the many guest rooms, deciding she would see the doctor there, and found him unpacking equipment on a small rolling tray. He was a wiry man in his fifties with wide, curious eyes that darted around the room, looking at this and that, as he'd walked into a museum instead of a house. "My goodness," he breathed, running a finger along the carved frame of an antique mirror. "You live here? No, sorry stay here? Extraordinary." Samantha blinked. "Um. Good morning?" He turned toward her abruptly, smiling so widely it almost

Samantha's fingers tightened on the edge of the bed. "What do you mean she approved of me? I've never even met her in my life."Doctor Bennett's smile flickered, becoming something strained and apologetic. He busied himself with closing his medical bag, the cheerful energy from moments ago draining away like water through a sieve."Well, well... You-you see—""Doctor Bennett." She leaned forward, ignoring the pull of her bruised ribs, focusing instead on his face. "What did you mean?""Bill," he corrected weakly. "Please, call me Bill.""Bill." She forced her voice to stay steady. "Tell me exactly what you meant by that."He hesitated, glancing toward the door as though calculating his escape route. "I really shouldn't have said anything. Medical professionals are meant to be discreet, you know. Very discreet. Discretion is practically in the Hippocratic Oath.""It's not.""Isn't it? I should check." He fumbled with the latch on his bag. "Look, Mrs Hale...""Miss Torres," she corrected

Samantha's heart hammered against her ribs as she spun around in the chair, her hand flying to the mouse. Jason stood in the doorway, perfectly still, his expression unreadable. He wasn't angry, at least, not visibly. His tie was loosened, and his jacket gone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms in that way that always made her pulse skip. The last thing she expected was him standing at the door, it was barely even 7pm, and yet he was home. She briefly wondered if something had happened to him at work, something that made him do something so unusual. "I—" she started, her voice breaking. "I was just—" "Looking for something?" he finished, stepping inside and closing the door behind him with a soft click. She quickly scrambled to her feet, nearly knocking the chair over in her haste. Beads of sweat started to form on her forehead, and her hands shook. She'd barely gotten out of the last scrape she had with him, who was he going to threaten this time? What new, incentive ways

It made no sense. These feelings she was having for him, that day, that week, none of it made any sense. First, he came home earlier than he'd ever done, with this soft look in his eyes from nowhere, he'd caught her in his study snooping away, then gave her gifts and then made love to her? Why was he acting so strange? Samantha asked herself, her eyes fluttering open an hour later. Sge stirred slowly, her body heavy with the languid satisfaction of their earlier lovemaking. The room had grown dimmer, shadows lengthening across the rumpled sheets as evening crept in. A faint rumble in her stomach reminded her of dinner, the simple need for food pulling her from the depths of sleep. But as she shifted, she felt the solid warmth of Jason behind her, his arm still draped possessively over her waist, his chest rising and falling against her back in steady rhythm. This made even less sense, the feeling she was starting to have for this man. This man who'd hurt her and helped he

Jason's POV Jason watched Samantha's face as the question hung between them, saw the determination in her eyes, the way her chin lifted with that stubborn tilt he'd come to know so well. Who told you about this? He should've known this moment would come eventually. The moment she started asking the right questions, digging into corners of his life he'd worked tirelessly to keep shadowed. But he hadn't expected it to hurt this much. "Jason," she said again, softer now. "Please. I'm not trying to cause problems. I just need to understand what I'm walking into." He wanted to tell her. God, how he wanted to tell her everything; the inheritance clause, the timeline, the impossible conditions his mother had set, the biological reports that had confirmed what he'd suspected for years. That Samantha Torres wasn't just compatible with him, she was perfect. But he couldn't. Because the moment he told her the truth, that she was part of a carefully orchestrated plan, that their reconcilia