The Billionaire's Substitute Bride のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 111 - チャプター 120

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

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

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

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

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