Semua Bab Her Father’s Billionaire Best Friend : Bab 21 - Bab 30

Juliette’s hand slipped inside her jacket and came out with a small collapsible baton. She looked older in a way that made the room shimmy. “We’re not stupid,” she said. “Come out and we do this easy. Otherwise—”The metal gate groaned. Two figures pushed through, silhouettes cut against the weak light from the street. They wore dark coats and the kind of casual menace practiced by people who’d chosen intimidation as a career. They moved with the certainty of numbers on their side.“Drop the laptop now,” one said. “Careful with the theatrics, girl.” He had the kind of voice you heard in rooms where bad things were done under legalese.Juliette stood straighter. “Who sent you?” she demanded.The man chuckled. “Make it easy for everyone. Step away from the table with your hands up.”I felt suddenly transparent, like a sheet was over me and they could read the quivering of my limbs. The USB in my pocket gave the tiniest outline of heat. I looked at Juliette and she met my gaze with a bri

We moved like a weather front tearing through the night—fast, loud with intent, and impossible to ignore. Adrian drove like a man trying to outrun a prophecy, Juliette mapped the perimeter with a glance that seemed to count exits and threats the way some people count breaths, and my hands were in my pockets, clutching the USB as if the little plastic rectangle contained the last honest thing left in my life.The house sat under a halo of porch light, ordinary and wrong, the way a white dress looks wrong on someone who’s been buried. On the stoop, the men in suits were a chorus of control: voices low, shoes squeaking, heads bent in private conferences. One of them looked up as we pulled in and for an instant his face registered the tiny flash of recognition—Adrian’s profile, Juliette, a woman at his side with the face of a daughter who will not be protected forever.“Stay in the car,” Adrian hissed, and my body obeyed the way it had since the start—because his voice carried plans, beca

Juliette’s mouth set like a hinge. “We don’t have the luxury of playing defense. We go to their transport. We cut the line.”Adrian’s eyes glittered. “We intercept at the next checkpoint. We have ten minutes.”I wanted to scream. To throw the folder at them and make them show themselves. To run out in the street and demand the world see the truth in my hands. Instead I felt something steadier, colder: a resolve. I’d been unwilling in the morning and furious by evening. Now I was something else—dangerous in the way of people who have nothing left to lose.“Let’s go,” I said.We slid out into the night, a small, ragged party of intention. The house looked at us as if it had given birth. Behind us, the men rearranged themselves into positions of polite violence. Ahead, the road glittered like a promise. Somewhere in the dark, Marcus was being moved, and heaven help the people who had the audacity to think they could displace what had been built on loyalty, blood, and a voice that once to

She met his eyes with something that might have been remorse. “I created it,” she said quietly. “But not for Bellamy. For you.” The sentence was small and strange. “I was in too deep. I made choices. I did things I am ashamed of because someone bought my silence once. But I couldn’t let them do that to you. I fed them false channels, but I also kept a mirror. When it came time, I could break my cover and hand you the mirror.”There was a strange silence. I felt like I’d been given a piece of a strange jigsaw puzzle and the missing remaining pieces were the parts of her I didn’t know.“You lied to my father,” I said, low. “You lied to us.”She nodded. “I did. I am not innocent. But I’m giving you the thing that matters: proof that the smear was manufactured. I can walk away and let my world be destroyed if it gives you the leverage you need.”For a moment the room smelled like metal and possibility. Then she did something I did not expect—she knelt before Marcus and kissed his hand.It

We made it to a couch, limbs tangled, soft and steady. Marcus trailed his fingers along the inside of my wrist, as if memorizing the map of me. “Tell me a stupid thing,” he said suddenly, voice a conspiratorial whisper.“Like?” I asked, delight blooming because he’d found a little loophole to normal.“Tell me the hottest thing you thought about doing when you first realized you wanted me.” His grin was wicked, his tone an invitation.Heat licked at my cheeks. “I thought about stealing your watch.”He barked a laugh. “My watch?”“Yes. I thought if I had it, I could keep a piece of you that couldn’t be taken by headlines.” The absurdity of it made me giggle.He looked at me with a softness that felt like rain. “Then steal something that matters,” he said. “Steal me.”I pressed my mouth to his, slow and deliberate, because words had been dangerous and touch—touch was honest. We let the world fall into a low hum around us, relishing the pockets of quiet that were ours alone.But the fight