Three Years With My Billionaire Husband のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

The countdown lived in my head even after the screens went dark.Not numbers.Not seconds.Pressure.A tightening coil wrapped around my ribs, squeezing a little harder every time I hesitated. The connection hadn’t shut off when the lights dimmed. It had sunk deeper, threading itself into places I didn’t have words for yet. Nerves. Instinct. Memory that wasn’t fully mine.“You’re bleeding,” Adrian said.I blinked. Looked down.Blood stained my palm, bright and startling against my skin. I hadn’t even felt it happen. My nails had bitten into my hand hard enough to break skin without my permission.“I’m fine,” I said automatically.Seraphine didn’t bother pretending she believed me. She grabbed my wrist, firm, grounding. “Pain later. Focus now.”The facility groaned again, a low complaint that rippled through the floor like something massive shifting its weight. Somewhere far above us, engines roared. Not aircraft. Ground movers. Heavy.“They’re repositioning,” Collins said. “Your mirro

The first shot wasn’t meant to kill me.That was the problem.It cracked through the air like the sky itself had snapped, a violent pressure wave that shattered the far wall of the medical bay and sent glass screaming across the room. The lights died instantly. The monitors flatlined into silence. Someone shouted my name. Someone else shouted orders. Everything collapsed into noise and motion and instinct.Adrian threw himself over me before I even understood what was happening.The second impact hit harder.The floor lurched. Metal groaned. Smoke poured in thick and hot, tasting like burned copper and chemicals that stung the back of my throat. My ears rang so loudly it drowned out thought. I felt Adrian’s weight, solid and real, his arm locked around my shoulders like he could shield me from the end of the world by force alone.“Move,” Seraphine roared. “Now.”Hands grabbed the gurney. We lurched forward. Wheels screamed in protest as we were shoved into the corridor just as another

The first thing I realized was that they had let us live on purpose.That thought hit harder than the explosions, harder than the guns, harder than the way my hands were still shaking even though the corridor had gone quiet. Silence pressed in from all sides, thick and unnatural, the kind that followed a deliberate choice, not a retreat.They could have finished it.They didn’t.Adrian’s palm was still locked around mine, warm, steady, anchoring me to the present. My ears rang faintly, like the aftermath of a scream I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back.“Medical teams are sweeping the lower levels,” Seraphine said, voice clipped, sharp with adrenaline that hadn’t burned off yet. “No hostiles detected. No residual tech signatures.”Collins stared at the scorched floor where the attackers had vanished. “They erased themselves.”I swallowed. My throat felt raw. “No. They stepped out of reach.”That distinction mattered. It tasted bitter.We moved again, slower this time, the tension s

The night air tasted like metal and rain and intention.I knew I was being measured before my second step hit the ground.Cold concrete pressed through the soles of my boots as the transport sealed behind me with a final hiss that sounded a lot like abandonment. Floodlights snapped on in staggered bursts, not all at once, like whoever controlled them wanted to see how I reacted to partial visibility. Shadows stretched long and wrong across the abandoned industrial yard, steel frames and rusted containers standing like witnesses that would never testify.I did not slow down.If they wanted hesitation, they picked the wrong night.Every muscle in my body hummed with leftover adrenaline, pain dulled into something sharp and useful. My ribs still ached. My head still throbbed. Good. Pain meant presence. It kept me anchored in myself instead of spiraling into whatever game they thought they were running.A voice drifted through the open space, calm, unhurried, everywhere and nowhere at onc

The sirens reached us before the truth did.They rose from the city in layers, distant at first, then multiplying, stacking on top of each other until the night vibrated with them. Police. Medical. Fire. News vans. Everything that came when something ugly refused to stay hidden.The decision heard it too.Their eyes flicked toward the torn bay doors, toward the glow bleeding in from the city beyond, and for the first time I saw something like urgency crack through the calm they wore so carefully.“You do not control what comes next,” they said.“No,” I replied. “Neither do you.”Seraphine’s people tightened the perimeter, boots scraping against concrete, weapons steady but not reckless. They were trained for this moment. Not the firefight. The aftermath. The part where things got messy and public and impossible to rewind.The screens kept streaming.That was the point.Angles multiplied, feeds branching out across networks that had never been invited to this conversation. Commentators