Semua Bab Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns: Bab 121 - Bab 130

Sienna’s POVThe penthouse was unusually quiet when I finally got a moment to speak to Desmond. The kids were occupied with their toys, quietly playing under the watchful eye of the cameras I had installed in every corner for emergencies. My heart was still racing from Sophia’s visit, and the weight of her warning pressed down on me like a stone.I found him in the living room, pacing slowly as though the tension in the air didn’t exist. His expression was calm—too calm, as if he already knew what I was going to say.“Desmond,” I began, my voice careful but firm. “We need to talk. Now.”He stopped pacing and looked at me, tilting his head slightly. “What’s going on, Sienna?” His voice was calm, almost casual, but I could see the flicker of curiosity in his eyes.I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay steady. “Sophia came here today. She… she tried to warn me to stay away from you.”His brows lifted slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Warn you? Really?” He

Sienna’s POV The moment Desmond’s words settled between us, the house felt quieter than it had any right to be.Too quiet.The children’s laughter drifted in from the living room, bright and innocent, and it twisted something deep in my chest. They had no idea how close danger was circling us. No idea that their safety was being discussed like a chess move.I watched Desmond for a long second after he finished speaking, searching his face for hesitation. For doubt. For that familiar shadow of divided loyalty.But all I saw was resolve.It should’ve comforted me more than it did.“I want to believe you,” I said finally, pulling my hand from his gently, not angrily. “I really do. But belief isn’t what keeps us alive, Desmond. Preparation does.”His jaw tightened. “Then we prepare.”I nodded, stepping away to lean against the kitchen counter. My pulse was still racing, my mind replaying Sophia’s visit again and again—her measured tone, her polite smile, the sharp threat hidden beneath c

Desmond’s POVThe feed froze on the front door.My heart slammed so hard it hurt.“Switch cameras,” I barked, already pulling my phone. No signal. Of course. Whoever planned this had thought of everything—layers upon layers of isolation, precision disguised as patience.Sienna was breathing too fast. I reached for her hand without looking, grounding both of us. “They’re not alone,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “Security protocol doesn’t fail that easily.”But even as I said it, the screen glitched again.The feed changed.Our youngest’s room.Empty.The bedspread rumpled. Curtains swaying slightly, as if someone had just passed through.Sienna made a sound—sharp, broken—but she didn’t cry. She straightened, spine rigid, eyes blazing with something far more dangerous than fear.“Open the door,” she said to the camera. To them.The familiar voice chuckled softly. “Still negotiating. That’s why you lose.”“Where are my children?” she demanded.A pause. Just long enough to be delib

Desmond’s POVThe right corridor swallowed me whole.The moment I stepped onto the ramp, the temperature dropped—cooler, damper, carrying the faint metallic scent of concrete that hadn’t seen daylight in years. The lights here were older, harsher, buzzing faintly overhead like they resented being woken up. My footsteps echoed louder than I liked, each one announcing me to whatever—or whoever—waited below.The alarm above grew distant as the ramp curved downward, replaced by a low, throbbing hum. Generators. Backup systems. This place was supposed to be dead. “Offline,” they’d called it. Nothing about the sound vibrating through my bones felt offline.My phone vibrated again.07:01No new message. Just the timer, glaring at me like an accusation.I broke into a run.The ramp leveled out into the underground garage, vast and dim, rows of concrete pillars stretching into shadows. Most of the spaces were empty, but not abandoned. Fresh tire marks cut across the dust. Footprints. Recent.T

She shouldn’t exist.That was my first thought as she stepped fully into the light—calm, composed, wearing my face like it belonged to her more than it ever had to me.Same height. Same dark hair pulled back the way I always forgot to fix properly. Same scar near the jawline that I’d earned from a stupid fall years ago. Even the way she held herself—slightly tilted, as if she were always listening for something beneath the noise—was wrong in how familiar it felt.A mirror with intent.My breath left me in a slow, shaking exhale. “That’s not possible.”Desmond’s hand tightened around mine, grounding, protective. I could feel the barely restrained violence coiled beneath his skin, the way it always surfaced when something threatened to touch what was his. His eyes flicked between me and her, already calculating angles, exits, outcomes.“She’s bait,” he said quietly. “Don’t engage.”But the woman—my woman—smiled wider, as if she’d heard him anyway.“Sienna,” she said. My voice. Perfectly