All Chapters of The billionaire who couldn't steal my heart: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

RONAN POVThe silence after my mother’s threat is suffocating.She stands inches away from me, unflinching, perfectly composed as if she didn’t just imply that the woman I love could disappear simply because she exists. The fluorescent chandelier lights above us hum softly, mocking the storm boiling in my chest.“Get out,” I say quietly.My mother arches her brow, annoying me further. “Lower your voice, Ronan. The neighbors might hear.”“I don’t care,” I snap. “Leave. Now.”She studies me for a long moment, her gaze cool and dissecting, as if she’s deciding whether I’m still her son or just another obstacle to eliminate. Slowly, she smooths an invisible crease in her sleeve.“You’ve changed,” she says softly. “You used to be smarter.”I laugh, sharp and bitter. “You mean quieter. Easier to control.”Her lips curve faintly. “I mean loyal.”“Loyalty built on lies isn’t loyalty,” I fire back. “It’s captivity.”She sighs, as though I’m exhausting her. “You always did dramatize things.”“T

VICTORIA POVThe first thing I feel is not anger.It is disbelief.The kind that settles heavy in the chest, tightening slowly, as though the world has tilted and I am the only one still standing upright while everything else slides out of place.“Say it again.”My voice is calm. Perfectly even. Controlled.My personal assistant stiffens across from my desk, her fingers tightening around the tablet in her hands. She has worked for me for eight years. She knows better than to speak carelessly. She also knows that repeating bad news never softens it.“Annabelle Blackthorne is trending,” she says again, more carefully this time. “Across multiple platforms. Nationally.”The word echoes.Trending.I lean back in my chair slowly, folding my hands together in my lap, maintaining the posture I’ve perfected over decades. Power is as much about how you sit as it is about what you say.“That’s not possible,” I reply calmly. “She hasn’t spoken.”“She hasn’t,” my assistant agrees. “But the anticip

VICTORIA POVThe world had begun whispering against me again.Not loud enough to shatter my composure, not yet. But loud enough that I could feel it crawling under my skin, irritating every carefully curated layer of my power. The headlines, the social media chatter, the thinly veiled comments from people who once obeyed me without question and now they’ve become a current pulling at me, testing the walls I’d built.I stand by the window in my private suite, overlooking the city. The skyline glows in a thousand fractured lights. Each one feels like a spotlight on my failures. And yet, I don’t flinch. I never flinch.“Mrs Blackthorne,” a strong voice says behind me. Detective Walsh. Always alert. Always cautious. Always watching for cracks.I don’t turn. “What is it?” My tone is calm, but the words carry a weight that makes her hesitate.“Ronan called,” he says carefully, placing the tablet on the desk. “He’s… he’s been with her all day. The coverage is getting bigger. People are compa

ANNABELLE POVFear has a sound.I never knew that before today.It’s not a scream. Not footsteps in the dark. Not even the slam of a door.It’s silence—the kind that presses against your skin and makes every nerve stand on edge.I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, fully dressed even though it’s past midnight, staring at the door like it might suddenly open on its own. Sofia is asleep on the couch or at least pretending to be. I can hear her shifting every few minutes, restless just like me.The house feels too big tonight.Too quiet.Ronan’s words replay in my head over and over.Victoria doesn’t retreat. She strikes.I hug my knees to my chest, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. That’s what my therapist once told me years ago when anxiety from my mother’s illness tried to swallow me whole.But this fear is different.This isn’t imagined.This is earned.My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart pounds violen

RONAN POVI should have known it was coming.The moment my mother realized I was supporting Annabelle, she began her game. I just didn’t think she’d hit me this hard so soon.The conference room at the law firm smells sterile, too clean and too sharp. My hands are tight around the edge of the table. Marcus sits across from me, watching me carefully. The papers in front of us blur together; the legal strategy, the evidence, all of it is secondary to the storm building in my chest.My mother’s name and scheming ways echoes in my mind with every breath. Calculating, cold and untouchable.The door opens, and she walks in. Always perfectly dressed, always calm and always smiling, as if she owns not just this room but the air we breathe. I’m waiting for when her facade would crack though. “Ronan,” she says softly, almost sweetly but I know better. That tone, that smile it’s nothing but poison. “I hoped we could talk, privately.”“There’s nothing to talk about,” I grind out. Her smile does