All Chapters of The Billionaire Who Bought Me The Moon: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

I had spent the last two hours pacing the length of the bedroom, my mind whirring faster than the simulation servers back at the university. Every time I passed the mirror, I saw a woman I barely recognized—pale, hollowed out, and wearing a sweater that cost more than my mother's car.I looked at the door. I knew who was on the other side. Franklin. He wasn't just a driver or a butler; he was the primary warden of my gilded prison.The nausea rolled through me again, a bitter reminder of the passenger I was carrying. I didn't reach for the ginger ale this time. I reached for my shoes.I walked to the door and gripped the handle. It didn't turn. Of course it didn't. I took a deep breath, smoothing my hair and trying to pull the "Future Mrs. Hale" mask over the "OG Samantha" rage.I knocked. Not a frantic pounding, but a firm, deliberate cadence.The lock clicked, and the door swung open just a few inches. Franklin stood there, his posture impeccable, his face a mask of professional neu

The rain started as a fine mist, the kind that didn't just dampen your clothes but seemed to soak straight into your marrow. I sat in my beat-up Honda, the engine idling with a rhythmic, rattling cough that sounded pathetic against the backdrop of the Hale estate’s south entrance.The gates were a monstrosity of black iron and arrogance, standing twenty feet tall and topped with spikes that looked like they belonged on a medieval fortress. Beyond them, the winding driveway disappeared into a wall of perfectly manicured trees. It wasn't a home; it was a sovereign nation.I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white. On the passenger seat lay the printouts of Clause 4B—the digital ghost Samantha had sent me. I had spent the last three hours in a caffeine-fueled haze, cross-referencing land deeds and old university payrolls.The truth was worse than a merger. It was a blood-debt. Nora wasn’t just a researcher’s daughter who happened to live on that land. Her mother, Maria, had been on

I was still staring at the ceiling when the heavy bolt on the door slid back. I didn't move. I didn't want to see which version of Jason was walking through that door—the man who had caught me in the garden with a heart full of terror, or the man who had locked me in a cage with a soul full of ice.The mattress dipped. I felt the heat of him before I felt his touch. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw with an agonizing slowness. I closed my eyes, my breath hitching."Open your eyes, Samantha," he whispered. It wasn't a request.I obeyed, finding him watching me with an expression that was terrifyingly tender. He had changed into a fresh suit—deep navy, perfectly tailored—but his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a man who hadn't slept, a man who had spent the night guarding his hoard."I brought the first-aid kit," he said, pulling my hands out from under the duvet. He didn't flinch at the sight of the raw, red welts from the oak bark. Instead, he began to clean t

Adrian stood under the flickering yellow halo of a rusted streetlamp at Pier 42, his Honda tucked behind a stack of shipping containers that smelled of salt and rotting timber. Every few seconds, he checked the screen of his phone.The photo Samantha had sent him—the letter from Eleanor—was burned into his retinas. It was the "smoking gun" they had been hunting for, a piece of evidence so volatile it made his hands shake."You're early, Professor."The voice came from the shadows between two industrial cranes. Adrian jumped, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. A woman stepped into the light. She was wrapped in a heavy, grease-stained parka, her hair tucked under a knit cap, but her eyes—dark, sharp, and weary—were unmistakably related to the ones he’d seen in the lab every day."Maria?" Adrian asked, stepping forward."The one and only," she said, her voice a raspy growl. She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on the folder in his hand. "You have the letter? The one Sam

The interior of the black SUV smelled of new leather and ozone. It was a sterile, suffocating scent that felt like a funeral shroud.Adrian sat in the back, his hands resting on his knees. He wasn't cuffed—Jason Hale didn't need steel to keep a man in place when he held the leash to his entire career—but the presence of the two guards flanking him was a physical weight. Opposite him, Maria leaned her head against the tinted window, watching the rain-slicked world blur into a smear of neon and shadow."Where are you taking us?" Adrian asked. His voice sounded thin, even to his own ears."A safe location," the guard on his right replied. He didn't turn his head. "Mr. Hale wants you away from the city until the wedding preparations are finalized.""You mean until the evidence is buried," Adrian countered, a spark of his old academic defiance flickering.Maria let out a dry, hacking laugh. "They don't bury evidence in this family, Professor. They incinerate it. Then they pave a parking lo