Semua Bab The Billionaire’s Erased Love: Bab 21 - Bab 30

The penthouse didn’t settle after the storm.Lila felt it in her bones as she moved through the living area, tidying without purpose, straightening pillows that didn’t need straightening.Dominic stood near the windows, arms folded, gaze fixed on the city. He hadn’t moved much since the revelation. Since the words that had cracked something open between them:He’s been watching you ever since.Eli sensed it. Lila knew before he said a word. Children always did.He sat cross-legged on the rug with his crayons spread in a careful semicircle, coloring slower than usual, pressing too hard. The wax squeaked faintly on the paper. He didn’t hum. He didn’t chatter. He didn’t look up when Lila passed.She crouched beside him. “Hey, bug. What’re you drawing?”He shrugged, eyes on the page. “The tower.”Her stomach tightened. “That’s a lot of windows.”“Some of them aren’t real,” he said.She stilled. “What do you mean?”He hesitated, then added quietly, “The dark ones.”Dominic turned from the

The idea that he had chosen to forget her sat between them like a third presence.Lila stood at the edge of Dominic’s office, arms wrapped around herself, eyes fixed on nothing. The morning light had fully arrived now, implying normalcy where none existed. The city outside the glass walls went about its business, unaware that six years ago, something had been quietly erased in one of its brightest towers.“You’re sure?” she asked at last.Dominic didn’t look up from the console. “As sure as I can be about something I don’t remember doing.”“That you consented,” she said. The word tasted wrong in her mouth. “That you signed away your memories.”He exhaled slowly. “Consent doesn’t always mean freedom. Sometimes it just means the absence of alternatives.”She turned to him then. “What were they holding over you?”He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to answer, but because the answer was still forming.“That’s what we’re about to find out.”He tapped a sequence into the console. The m

It was already morning. Light slid across the penthouse floor in pale strips, catching on glass and chrome, turning the space calm and ordinary in a way that felt like a lie. Lila stood near the windows, watching Eli kneel on the rug, carefully lining up his toy cars by color. He hummed under his breath: soft, tuneless, a sound that usually meant he felt safe.Dominic watched them from the doorway.“What happens now?” Lila asked quietly, without turning.Dominic didn’t answer at first. His eyes stayed on Eli. On the way, the boy paused before pushing one car forward, as if considering consequences before acting.Finally, Dominic said, “We stop reacting.”Lila looked at him. “And start doing what?”“Tracing,” he replied. “Every footprint they didn’t erase cleanly.”He moved past her, already pulling up his sleeves, the decision made. “There’s footage from the night of the breach. What’s left of it.”“I thought they wiped everything.”“They tried,” Dominic said. “But people who are cert

Lila didn’t sleep.She lay awake on the edge of the bed, staring at the faint reflection of the city in the glass wall opposite her, replaying the same few seconds over and over again; the argument, the silence, the kiss.The way it hadn’t been soft.The way it hadn’t been planned.The way it had felt like something breaking open.That was what terrified her most.The penthouse felt different now. Not safer. Not protective. Exposed. Every wall seemed thinner, every shadow too deliberate. The memory of Dominic’s mouth on hers lingered like heat under her skin, and she hated herself for how easily it had undone her.This was how it started.This was how she lost control.She slid quietly from the bed and crossed the room, careful not to wake Eli. He slept curled on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek, breathing slow and deep. For a moment, she just watched him.“I won’t let them take you,” she whispered.Staying meant danger.Staying meant patterns repeating.Staying meant feeling

The penthouse fell into a silence so complete it felt deliberate.Lila took Eli to bed without a word. She moved gently, efficiently, like someone afraid that if she slowed down even a little, everything would spill out of her. Dominic watched from the office doorway as she tucked their son in, brushed curls from his forehead, whispered something soft and private that didn’t reach the hall.Eli’s door closed with a quiet click.Dominic didn’t follow.He stayed where he was, the photograph still lying open on his desk, the single sentence on the back burning more than any memory ever could.If I forget everything else—don’t forget her.He reread it.And again.Not searching for recognition, but for intention. For the man he’d been when he wrote it. For the version of himself who had understood the cost and paid it anyway.His chest tightened, not sharply, not dramatically, but with a steady pressure that made it hard to breathe deeply. He rested his palms on the desk, fingers splayed,