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《The Billionaire's Substitute Bride 》全部章節：第 111 章 - 第 120 章

120 章節

111

GERALD The house was too quiet when I returned from the board meeting. The kind of silence that wraps around your neck like a noose. Heavy and unsettling. I had no idea I'd walked straight into another kind of war.I loosened my tie and walked through the hallway. I could perceive the scent of Vivienne’s musky vanilla perfume I’d grown used to ignoring.Then I saw her.She was by the dresser, her back to me, shoulders squared, like she’d been carved out of stone. Her suitcase was open, a sleek maroon box on the floor, half-filled with dresses, jewelry, and her familiar gold makeup kit.“Vivienne. What are you doing?”She didn’t answer. Just calmly placed her eyeshadow palette into the kit, zipped it shut, and straightened.“I asked you a question,” I repeated, stepping closer.She then turned slowly, and locked eyes with me…. And then she smiled. But not the smile I used to know.This one was cruel….bent at the corners and empty in the middle.“What’s so funny, woman?” I snapped.“Fu

112

RICCI They always said monsters wore masks.But I didn’t think the mask would be a goddamn crucifix and a pressed white collar. I didn’t think it would be Williams—the stoic one, the one who rarely said more than a grunt. Always sitting stiffly at the edge of the room like our presence disgusted him. Like he was built from stone and regret.Turns out he was made of something worse.I sat there in the chillout room,nursing a bruised jaw and a headache that pulsed like it had its own heartbeat. My shirt collar was damp with sweat, even though the air conditioning blasted through the vents above. The room had gone quiet since everyone left, but it wasn’t peaceful. It was the aftermath.Revenge.It’s funny how they always make it sound so loud in movies—explosions, screaming, bullets, glass shattering. But the real thing? It was quiet.Too damn quiet.It’s just you, alone in a room, spinning in your chair with ghosts for company.Carmichael, Northwest—they were behind bars now. Like pigs

113

SOPHIA I was lost.Not the kind of lost where you ask someone for directions and find your way in ten minutes. No, this was different. I was lost in the kind of way that made your skin feel wrong.The city felt like it was swallowing me whole.Buildings leaned over like they were watching. The sidewalks stretched for miles, but none of them felt like they were leading anywhere real. It was like I'd just gotten myself stuck in a cursed labyrinth. I couldn't remember how far I’d walked—or why I was even still moving.“Sophia? Wait—Sophia!”He knew my name.He called it like he knew me…but what if he did?And then, just before I lost him in the crowd—he said it."Ricci sent me!"Ricci.Ricci.Ricci.I didn’t know who he was. Not really. But the name hit like a memory I didn’t have the strength to face. My brain couldn’t piece it together, but my body reacted like it had just been struck.My hands were trembling. My legs wouldn’t stop moving, wouldn’t let me rest. I think part of me thou

114

VIVIENNE I swear I could have stabbed him with the fork in my hands when he stared me straight in the eye back at the restaurant.“ Sophia might still be alive ”, he said wiping his lips with the napkin. Honestly, I didn't know how to react. Shocked? Because everyone, including me, thought she was dead. Happy? Maybe a glimpse of what you'll call hope….or maybe mad…coz oh man I'd reap this nigga guts from his system if he were having some silly jokes here.“ What did you say?” I asked just to be sure I heard correctly. He didn't even flinch…he just scooched the chair backwards and stood straight.“My detective said she was involved in an accident. Might’ve been shot. But she was taken to a hospital.”Shot?! I stopped breathing….. Hospital? What was all this…I still couldn't believe it.“ Where?”He turned, ready to leave me with that bomb in this goddamn restaurant.“ Connecticut ”.My heart sank. That was the exact place I'd asked Stanford to take her to. Did she really survive? If s

115

MABEL It had just been two days since Vivienne took Sophia back to New York.Two slow, dragging days.She said she had a company to oversee—some fashion thing or luxury firm or whatever rich people do when they’re not breaking hearts—and that Sophia being in the city might jog her memory. I didn’t argue, but Lord knows I wanted to.I didn’t want her to go.Not because I thought I knew best—no. But because that girl had curled herself into my home, into my routine, into my life. There was something tender about the way she folded laundry or stirred her tea or stared at the ceiling like she was searching for someone who never came.You don't watch a girl like that walk away and feel whole again.But what could I do? Say no to Vivienne Williams? That woman could put ice in a volcano and still walk out with her hair done.So now the apartment was quiet again. Not empty, but quieter in the saddest way. And here I was, on a Saturday, wiping down the same wooden table for the third time bec

116

SOPHIA It was quiet downstairs—too quiet, honestly. After a few days of being cooped up in my room like some fragile doll, I needed to feel something again. Movement perhaps….or maybe sound. I didn't really know. Even if it was just the hum of the refrigerator or the clinking of plates.We were back in New York now. And strangely, everything felt both familiar and distant, like a dream I kept dipping in and out of.But Mom was right—I was starting to remember things.Still, I won't deny it. I missed Mabel. A lot more than I expected to.Little flashes were coming back gradually. I remembered working for Mike to bring down someone whom I couldn't remember. I didn't know why Matilda helped me a lot in remembering Isabella, and I also remembered I loved dandelions. The way the living room light slanted in from the window around this hour. It didn’t always last, but it came in stronger waves these days.I wandered into the living room and paused near the side table. There was a photo fra

117

RICCI The scent of garlic and seared butter curled through the air like an invitation. I stood by the stove, apron tied lazily around my waist, stirring the Alfredo sauce with one hand while swaying a little to the soft jazz spilling from the speaker on the counter. It was one of those evenings that felt almost too quiet. The kind where the city pulsed beyond the window, but inside this house—our house—there was only warmth, flickering light, and the sound of something soft simmering.I had just reached for the pepper grinder when I heard the front door click open.Then… footsteps.“Bambina,” came his voice. Deep….Slightly hoarse. And a little tired.I didn’t turn around. “You’re late.”“Blame the board,” he said, his footsteps drawing closer, “and a thirty-minute call about something they could’ve emailed.”I heard the soft thud of his briefcase hitting the entryway bench, followed by the loosening of his tie. My heart beat just a little faster—stupidly so. Even now. Even after all

118

SOPHIA I tossed a towel at him and rolled my eyes, biting back a smile.Twenty minutes later, he returned—fresh, damp curls, cotton shirt hugging his arms. He kissed the top of her head before sitting down at the small dining table, picking up his fork.The food was plated perfectly. As if he hadn't eaten for days…he hurriedly took one bite.He froze.Then looked up, chewing slowly. “You… this is illegal.”I smirked, sipping from the wine. “That’s the sauce I nearly ruined, by the way.”“Tastes like heaven. Or maybe I’m just drunk on you,” he said.“To fire hazards and foreplay.”She tilted her glass toward him. “To you,” he murmured. “And every damn moment like this.”“ Sophia" I heard my name the first time—barely. I didn’t answer.“Sophia?”This time it came louder. Right after a loud clap of thunder that made the window panes tremble. I blinked, suddenly aware of the room around me again. The dining room. The smell of sauce in the air and the faint scent of mom's perfume. My ha

119

RICCI The storm hadn’t stopped since.It was still roaring outside, the thunder rolling low like a warning from some angry god, but none of that mattered. Not when she collapsed into my arms like that. “Sophia?! Sophia—look at me, please. Look at me—!” Her name tore from my mouth.She wasn’t answering. Her face was pale, and her breath was very shallow. Her body went limp against mine, and for a second—I swear—I thought I was losing her again. I had almost started crying tbh.I carried her. I didn’t care that my boots tracked mud across the hardwood or the carpet. I didn’t care that I could barely see straight through the panic fogging my vision. I just needed her somewhere safe... somewhere quiet.I laid her gently on the couch. Her mother followed behind. She was asking questions I couldn’t answer. And that made me more angry.... frustrated....tired? All of them...or none of them? I didn't know....I didn’t know what the hell just happened. I didn’t care about explanations. All I c

120

SOPHIA It had been three months since I remembered everything.It didn’t come back in a rush. It came in fragments. The scent of cigarette smoke on Ricci’s coat. The sound of my laugh echoed against the kitchen tiles in our mansion. The feeling of his hand sliding over mine in the dark....I hated myself for not remembering sooner.When the final piece fell into place, it wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t steal my breath or send me into a breakdown. It was quiet. Like unlocking a room inside myself I’d boarded up out of fear.Ricci didn’t say anything when he saw it happen. He just looked at me, waiting.And I whispered, “I remember, Ricci.”He didn’t move. Just one tear rolled down his cheek. One. And then he pulled me into his arms like he’d been holding his breath for years.Now, we were here.A quiet countryside villa outside Florence. No bodyguards. No board meetings. No whispers of Sara or Project Lucifer. The media had moved on. And Ricci… he had started breathing again. So had I.Tha

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