Semua Bab Protecting the Billionaire’s Daughter: Bab 111 - Bab 120

My cousin had been crashing at our place for exactly forty-eight hours, and somehow, in that short span, he had become the neighborhood’s unofficial glitch in the matrix.Noah—twenty, effortlessly handsome, with this aura of “I do what I want and the universe better adjust”—was dangerous.Not because he was violent or anything, but because he didn’t even try. He didn’t have to. His energy was a magnet, and everyone within a three-block radius seemed to know it. Including the girls.I was perched on the porch, nursing a lukewarm coffee, and watching what could only be described as chaos with a side of absurdity.On our sidewalk, the entire female population had apparently discovered a newfound love for jogging. They were dressed in neon spandex, headphones blasting something that probably counted as “motivational,” and they were jogging—well, jogging-walki

The morning after Lynn’s eighteenth birthday felt like the heavy, breathless pause before a thunderstorm. I sat at the kitchen island, nursing a third cup of coffee, watching the sunlight crawl across the linoleum. Everything looked normal. The twins were occupied with their cereal, Damon was already on a conference call in his home office, and the neighborhood was waking up with its usual suburban yawn.But I couldn't stop looking at the guest room door. Noah was still dead to the world, likely dreaming of his midnight heist.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the two of them on that bike—a pastor’s daughter and a wild-hearted volunteer, blurred into the darkness. I had a knot in my stomach that wouldn't untie. In this neighborhood, secrets didn't stay buried; they rotted under the surface until they exploded.I was startled out of my thoughts by a sound from next door.It wasn't a scream. It wa

They say you shouldn’t play with fire, but they never tell you how warm it feels right before you get burned.For two weeks, I had been living a double life that would make a spy sweat. By day, I was the helpful cousin, the volunteer at the community center, the guy washing his car and giving the neighborhood girls a polite nod. But every other hour of the day, my mind was thirty feet to the right, locked inside a brick house with a girl who was becoming my entire world.The tension was peaking. Every vibration of the burner phone in my pocket felt like an electric shock.“She saw it,” the text had come in three days ago. “The mark on my chest. She saw the hickey when I was changing for bed.”My heart had nearly stopped. “What did you tell her?”“I told her it was a spider bite. An insect from the garden. She stared at it for ten minutes, Noah. She didn't

The air in our living room was so thick with tension I felt like I was breathing through a wet blanket. Noah sat on the edge of the velvet armchair, his face buried in his hands, his body vibrating with a frantic, restless energy. Beside him, Lynn looked like a porcelain doll that had been shattered and glued back together too many times. Her backpack—the one containing her entire life and those three life-altering strips of plastic—sat at her feet like a ticking bomb.I stood by the window, my eyes scanning the dark driveway next door. The Pastor’s house was a silent silhouette against the moon, oblivious to the fact that its foundation had just turned to dust.Then, I heard the heavy, familiar tread of Damon’s boots on the hardwood.My heart hammered against my ribs. Damon had been the rock I clung to through every storm of the last year. We had finally reached the shore. We had finally found peace.

Aria's POVThe three days following the clinic were a descent into a kind of silence I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Our house, once a place of celebration and new beginnings, felt like it was holding its breath. Noah hadn't eaten. He hadn't showered. He just sat in the guest room, staring at the wall, a hollowed-out version of the vibrant guy who had arrived two weeks ago.Next door, the Pastor’s house was a tomb of high-gloss brick. We saw the "private nurse" arrive and leave. We saw Timon leave for his mid-week Bible study, his head held high, waving to neighbors as if he hadn't just orchestrated a kidnapping and a forced procedure.I felt a cold, sharp rage every time I saw his silhouette through the window. It wasn't just anger; it was a fundamental shift in my soul. I had spent my life trying to be "good," trying to be the person who took the high road. But as I watched Noah wither away, I realized the high ro