Все главы His Choice Wasn't Me: Глава 51 - Глава 60

Tiana was losing control. The silence from James, the tension in the house, the headlines screaming Sarah’s return — everything was pushing her to the edge. Fear clung to her like a shadow.Every step she took carried the same question: What if Sarah comes for everything?She had clawed her way into this life with lies and manipulation, and she wasn’t ready to watch it crumble. But no matter how much she tried to steady herself, she knew; the moment Sarah resurfaced, the ground shifted beneath her feet.Meanwhile, New York pulsed with new beginnings. Transcorp’s newest project; the massive headquarters on the Hudson Waterfront was already rising. Sarah had thrown full force behind it.The contractor, Martins Carter, had submitted a standard budget, but Sarah approved far beyond it. Speed mattered now. Precision mattered. She wanted the structure to stand faster than any of its competitors.The project was supervised by David Rowe, Transcorp’s Project Manager — meticulous, disciplined,

Sarah sat alone in the living room of her new Manhattan mansion, the quiet elegance of the space holding her like a cocoon.Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the night city, the lights below rising like sparks from a fire. A glass of wine rested in her hand as the anchor on the television repeated the triumph of her global summit.“For the fifth day, the world continues to applaud Transcorp’s fearless CEO—”Sarah barely listened. Her mind was elsewhere, simmering with plans, timelines, movements, all orbiting around one thing — Daniel.Despite how cruel the little boy had treated her five years ago, blood they say, is thicker than water. Her love for him never wavered. She had returned. And she’d come for him.The door opened softly. Her maid stepped in, head bowed.“Ma, there is a man outside requesting to see you.”Sarah didn’t turn immediately. “Who?”“He said his name is James Striker, ma.”Her hand froze mid-air. Her eyes shifted, slow and sharp, from the screen to the maid. For a

Sarah had just concluded a powerful press conference, the kind that left journalists scrambling and the world buzzing about Transcorp’s next global move.Cameras flashed as she stepped away from the podium, bodyguards forming a firm wall around her. She moved with her usual calm confidence, her assistant by her side updating her schedule for the rest of the day.But as they turned toward the exit, Sarah accidentally brushed against someone. A soft gasp followed.She looked up—And froze.“Martha?”Martha stood there, wide-eyed, her expression torn between disbelief and anger. She looked almost the same—soft curls, expressive eyes but there was a flicker of hurt in her gaze that was unmistakable.“Sarah?” Her voice trembled. “You’re… alive?”Sarah’s breath caught, guilt washing over her. She had imagined this moment many times, but not like this.Not in a crowded hall with reporters still lingering.Behind her, staff members, executives, and security watched silently. Martha’s eyes move

The courthouse was already surrounded by cameras long before the hearing began. News vans lined the street, reporters speaking with urgent excitement, photographers adjusting their lenses for the perfect angle.People gathered in clusters, whispering about the case that had set the city on fire — the battle for Daniel Striker.Inside the car pulling into the restricted court parking lot, Sarah sat quietly beside Barrister Nicolas. She looked calm, almost regal, dressed in a fitted black suit that carried her authority effortlessly.But beneath the surface, her heart beat with a mother’s fear — a fear she refused to let anyone see.As the driver parked, Nicolas turned to her suddenly, as though a thought had just landed sharply on his mind. “Madam, are we not forgetting something?”Sarah glanced at him. “What is it?”Nicolas hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice. “We already have the evidence about what happened five years ago… the warehouse incident. Your attempted murder. We

Sarah walked into the mansion with Daniel by her side, her hand wrapped firmly around his. She didn’t rush him. She didn’t drag him. She simply held him the way a mother holds something precious she has waited too long to touch again.Daniel looked around the massive living room, quiet, unsure, almost shrinking into himself.“You’re safe now,” she said softly, bending a little so he could see her face clearly. “Nobody will hurt you again.”Daniel nodded, but his grip tightened. The boy who once believed she didn’t want him now looked like someone afraid that if he blinked too long, she might vanish.She led him upstairs, stopping in front of a door she had kept locked for months — waiting for this day.“I made this for you,” she said. “But if you don’t like anything, we’ll change it.”Daniel pushed the door open slowly. His eyes widened as he stepped inside. The room wasn’t filled with expensive decorations.She had kept it warm, calm, and familiar; the exact kind of room a child who