All Chapters of A NIGHT WITH MY BILLIONAIRE BOSS : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Lily’s POV…..If you had told me a few months ago that I’d be standing in a sunlit living room, surrounded by wedding invitations, passports, and half-packed suitcases—about to fly to Iceland to marry Andrew Sterling—I would’ve laughed in your face.Now here I was, barefoot on the rug, paper cuts on my fingers, heart too full to sit still.“Okay,” I muttered, lining up the ivory envelopes on the table again. “These are for Adrian, Sophia, the twins’ school administrator, the lawyer—why does getting married require notifying half the planet?”Andrew chuckled from the other side of the room, where he was carefully folding clothes with far more seriousness than necessary. “Because you’re marrying into chaos.”I glanced at him. “You are chaos.”“True,” he said easily. “But I’m well-dressed chaos.”I smiled despite myself.The penthouse looked different these days. Lived-in. Warm. There were flowers on the counter, travel guides stacked near the couch, and Aria’s sketchbook abandoned on a

Lily’s POV……The night before my wedding didn’t feel real.It felt like standing at the edge of something huge and quiet, like the world was holding its breath with me.Outside, Iceland stretched endlessly—snow glowing under the moonlight, the sky so clear it felt fragile. Inside the lodge, warmth wrapped around us, soft lights casting golden shadows on wood-paneled walls. The fire crackled gently, and somewhere in the distance, the wind howled like it was telling old stories.I sat cross-legged on the rug in oversized pajamas, my freshly cut black hair falling around my face. Every time I caught my reflection in the glass wall, I paused.I really did look like my mother.That thought still hurt—but it also made me feel brave.Sophia burst into the living room carrying a tray stacked dangerously high with snacks. “Okay, rule number one: tonight is about us. No Andrew. No Adrian. No stress. No tears—unless they’re happy ones.”Aria followed behind her, dragging a blanket and a bag of m

Lily’s POV….I took a deep breath and looked out the window one last time before stepping onto the snow-dusted aisle. The sunlight shimmered off the ice and snow, making the Icelandic landscape look like it had been plucked straight from a dream. My heart thudded wildly, a mix of nerves and excitement. Today… today I was going to marry Andrew Sterling. My Andrew.I smoothed the skirt of my gown one last time, fingers trembling, and glanced at Sophia, who gave me an encouraging wink. Aria tugged gently at my arm, whispering, “You look amazing, Lily. He’s going to lose it when he sees you.” I chuckled softly, a little embarrassed but filled with warmth.Then I saw him. Andrew. Standing at the altar, impossibly sharp in his tailored suit, his hair perfectly in place, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room—and the moment they landed on me, I felt my knees go weak. His gaze didn’t just look at me; it seemed to see into me, into every fear, every secret, every piece of my heart. And I kne

Andrew’s POV…..The world after the gunshot felt like chaos—like the air itself had fractured.Police lights washed the wedding hall in violent shades of red and blue, sirens wailing, officers shouting orders in sharp, clipped tones. The joy that had filled this place minutes ago was gone, replaced by panic and the metallic taste of fear at the back of my tongue.Lily was shaking.I had my hands on her shoulders, steadying her, anchoring myself to the warmth of her body because everything else felt too close to slipping out of control. Her dress—our wedding dress—was stained now, a thin red line where the sniper’s laser had burned into the fabric before the shot. I couldn’t stop staring at it.Her friends blood all over her dress.She should have been bleeding.She should have been the one on the stretcher.Instead, Sophia—I clenched my jaw hard enough that my teeth ached.“Andrew,” Lily whispered, fingers curling into my jacket like she was afraid I might disappear if she let go. He

Adrian’s POV………Hospitals have a smell.I never noticed it before—never really felt it—but now it’s everywhere. Sharp. Sterile. Too clean for the amount of blood it’s seen. It clings to my clothes, my skin, my lungs. Every breath tastes like fear and disinfectant.I’m pacing.Back and forth. Back and forth.The waiting room tiles are white, but in my head they’re stained red. I can still see it when I blink—Sophia’s blood soaking through her dress, her body going limp in my arms, her lips going pale as I begged her to stay with me.Stay with me.“Sir, you need to sit down,” a nurse says gently, like she’s afraid I might break.I turn on her so fast she flinches.“Don’t tell me to sit,” I snap. My voice cracks on the last word, raw and ugly. “She was shot. She was bleeding out in my arms. You people took her away and no one is telling me anything.”“I understand you’re upset—”“No, you don’t,” I cut in sharply. “If you understood, you’d be running instead of walking.”The nurse presses