Semua Bab Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Desmond’s POVHe asked me to stay behind, saying there was something he wanted to show me.I agreed without thinking much of it. At the time, it didn’t feel important. Yes, I was invested—curious, even—but I treated everything lightly, like none of it truly mattered. Like I could walk away whenever I wanted. That illusion didn’t last long. With each passing day, whatever this was started digging its claws into me, tightening its grip until I couldn’t tell when indifference turned into obsession.I stepped out of the guest room, my footsteps echoing faintly down the marble hallway. There were other rooms I could’ve stayed in—larger, more private, probably better—but I had chosen the guest room deliberately. It felt neutral. Temporary. Like a reminder that I didn’t belong here, no matter how much blood tied me to this place.My throat was dry, painfully so, and I headed toward the kitchen to get water. The house was unusually quiet. No maids in sight, no murmured conversations, no soft

Desmond’s POVMy phone rang again before I could convince myself to calm down.I really didn’t want to answer but I answered anyway.“Yes?” I said.“Where are you?” my father asked.His voice was even, unhurried—like he wasn’t calling to disrupt my entire night.“At the house,” I replied. “You told me to stay.”“And I still mean that,” he said. “But not in that room.”I straightened. “What does that mean?”“It means,” he continued calmly, “that I need you to come meet me.”I frowned. “Meet you where?”“A club.”The word sat wrong with me instantly.“A club?” I repeated. “You don’t do clubs.”A faint pause. Not hesitation—calculation.“I do,” he said, “when something important needs to be discussed.”My grip tightened around the phone. “Important how?”“You ask too many questions,” he replied mildly.“That’s because you never give answers.”Another pause. Longer this time.“This is not a conversation to have over the phone,” he said. “Come to the club.”I exhaled slowly. “You summoned

Sienna’s POVThe fashion house smelled like clean linen, espresso, and quiet ambition.It always grounded me.I stepped out of the elevator into controlled chaos—designers bent over tables, assistants gliding between racks with tablets pressed to their chests, the low murmur of fabric being discussed like it was alive. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with late-morning light, turning silk and satin into liquid gold.“Good morning, Mrs. Hale,” my receptionist said, already standing.“Sienna,” I corrected gently, as always. Titles made distance. I needed none of that here.She smiled. “Your office is ready.”I nodded and walked in, slipping into the version of myself that didn’t crack under unanswered calls. The CEO. The woman who signed contracts without shaking hands. The woman who knew how to command a room without raising her voice.I set my bag down, shrugged out of my coat, and stared at the city beyond the glass. Somewhere out there, my husband was either exactly where

Sienna’s POV My phone buzzed again in my hand. Kingsley’s name glowed on the screen, the three typing dots disappearing, replaced by a message. Desmond isn’t in UK. He’s in Italy. I stared at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something that made sense. Italy? My breath stuttered. That wasn’t just a weekend trip or a convenient excuse. That was distance. Planning. Secrecy. I looked up sharply at Gabriel, who was watching my face a little too closely, like he was reading reactions instead of expressions. “You okay?” he asked, concern slipping into his voice. “No,” I said honestly, my pulse pounding in my ears. My fingers moved before my brain caught up, typing back to Kingsley. Italy? Since when? The reply came almost immediately. Two days ago. He didn’t want it getting out yet. Didn’t want it getting out. The words echoed, stacking on top of the unease already coiled tight in my chest. Desmond didn’t disappear without a reason. And he defi

Sienna’s POVThe next morning, the sunlight spilled through the blinds, cutting across the kitchen floor in sharp stripes. I forced myself out of bed, even though the night had left my mind tangled and heavy. My phone sat on the counter, screen dark, but the weight of Desmond’s messages from last night lingered in my chest. Trust me. The words mocked me silently, twisting my stomach. Trust. That had once been easy, natural, unquestioned. Now it felt like a puzzle I couldn’t solve, like a rope I couldn’t hold onto.I shook my head, trying to clear it. I had to focus on something else. My triplets. That was something I could handle, something I could control, at least in part.After a quick shower and a hurried breakfast—toast for me, cereal and milk for the kids—I grabbed my bag and headed out. The school run was always hectic, but somehow, it grounded me.The car ride was quiet at first. Milo tapped his fingers on the dashboard, humming a little tune. Max was staring out the window, h