Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire Waitress : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Late July 2028 bathed Montclair, New Jersey, in golden light as I stood in my apartment, boxes stacked around me, my nurse’s scrubs folded on a chair after a hospital shift at Valley Hospital. Days had passed since Lila walked in on Justin and me in the Hamptons guest cottage, her shocked Oh, God! still ringing in my ears, followed by an X post: Kayla Reed and Justin Drake Caught in Montclair Love Nest! My jet-black hair was tied in a practical bob, my plus-sized curves in a loose T-shirt and jeans, a silver bracelet my only adornment. The sapphire engagement ring sat on my nightstand, its gem catching the light like a warning, the necklace locked in a jewelry box—a choice to guard my heart despite our rekindled love. I was no longer the waitress I’d been when we met at the Greenwich charity auction in October 2024, Justin’s $100,000 bid for the sapphire necklace sparking our love. After the Hamptons, Claire Voss’s exit, and Lila’s teasing support, Justin had asked me to move in tog

Early August 2028 pressed heavy on Montclair, New Jersey, the summer air thick with heat as I stood in Kayla’s apartment—our apartment—staring at the empty space where her nurse’s scrubs usually hung. Days had passed since Sophie’s confrontation in the Montclair café, her apology for leaking my 2027 Paris fling cutting Kayla deeper than I’d feared. The X post—Kayla Reed Confronts Justin Drake’s Paris Mistress in Montclair!—and comments screaming “Nurse Kayla’s drama never ends!” had piled onto the wounds I’d caused: the Claire Voss scandal, the pregnancy scare, Lila’s interruption in the Hamptons guest cottage, and now my hidden one-night mistake with Sophie. Kayla’s jet-black hair, her plus-sized curves, her quiet strength as a nurse—they haunted me, but she was gone. No note, no text, just the sapphire ring on her nightstand, its gem a silent accusation, the necklace untouched in its jewelry box. I was no longer the man who’d won her at the Greenwich charity auction in October 202

Early September 2028 roared through the Catskills, a storm’s wind howling, rain lashing the windshield of my rented SUV as I gripped the wheel, navigating a muddy mountain road. Days had passed since Kayla vanished from our Montclair apartment, her breakdown—triggered by my 2027 Paris fling with Sophie, the media’s relentless claws, and years of hurt—leaving only a scrawled note: Can’t keep breaking. My navy jacket was soaked, my dark hair plastered to my forehead, my hazel eyes scanning the blurred horizon for any sign of her. The sapphire ring and necklace, left on her Montclair nightstand and in her jewelry box, haunted me, symbols of a love I’d failed to protect. Her silver bracelet, abandoned on the counter, was tucked in my pocket, a lifeline to her nurse’s heart. I’d searched Montclair, Greenwich, Tod’s Point—nothing. A tip from Sarah, her nurse friend, pointed me here: a Catskills cabin, Kayla’s refuge. The storm raged, mirroring my guilt, but I’d find her, no matter the cost.

Late September 2028 shimmered over Montclair, New Jersey, the autumn air crisp as I stood in our apartment, my nurse’s scrubs folded after a Valley Hospital shift, my coffee mug warm in my hands. Days had passed since that chilling text—You’re not alone, Kayla—and the X post leaks pinpointing my hospital return, stirring my fear of a watcher. My jet-black hair was tied in a practical bob, my plus-sized curves in a sweater and jeans, my silver bracelet my only adornment—returned by Justin after my Catskills flight. The sapphire engagement ring sat on my nightstand, its gem a silent reminder, the necklace locked in a jewelry box—a choice to guard my still-healing heart. I was no longer the waitress I’d been when we met at the Greenwich charity auction in October 2024, where Justin’s $100,000 bid for the sapphire necklace sparked our love. Justin’s vow to trace the stalker, his woodsy cologne—cedar and bergamot—lingering, steadied me, but the leaks—Catskills drone shots, Montclair balcon

Late October 2028 shimmered over Barbados, the Caribbean moon casting molten silver across the ocean, its waves crashing in rhythm with my racing heart outside our beachfront villa at Sandy Lane resort. Our family vacation—Justin’s parents, Lila, my mom, Sarah—had pulled us from Montclair’s media storm, mere days after we bared our raw pasts: Justin’s reckless fling with Elise (the leaker known as Xiamond), my toxic ex, Derek. My jet-black hair spilled loose, damp from the humid air, my plus-sized curves barely contained by a sheer silk robe that clung to my skin, my silver bracelet—returned by Justin after my Catskills escape—glinting in the moonlight. The sapphire engagement ring and necklace, left on my Montclair nightstand and in my jewelry box, marked my guarded heart, still raw from Xiamond’s office seduction, her vicious fight, and her relentless leaks since 2025. Tonight, Justin’s touch reignited a primal fire between us, but a secret was about to surface, one that would shift