Three Years With My Billionaire Husband의 모든 챕터: 챕터 61 - 챕터 70

They did not knock.The first thing that broke was the sound. Metal screaming as the gate buckled inward, a violent shriek that tore through the wet morning and slammed straight into my nerves. People screamed. Someone shouted my name. The world lurched forward like it had lost its balance and decided to fall anyway.I stood there with my hands still raised, rain dripping off my fingers, thinking stupidly that daylight was supposed to make things clearer. Safer. That whatever happened in the dark at least had the decency to stay hidden.That was a lie.Armored boots flooded the concrete, heavy and synchronized, water splashing with each step. Their weapons were up now. Not aimed yet. Not quite. That small mercy felt fragile, like glass already cracked.Adrian moved in front of me without thinking.“Stop,” he shouted. “You don’t get to just take her.”A voice barked back through a loudspeaker, flat and practiced. “Sir, step aside.”I grabbed Adrian’s sleeve. Hard. “Don’t.”He turned on

The feeds did not cut.That was the first thing that went wrong for them.No blackout. No emergency graphic. No calm anchor voice sliding in to explain what people were supposed to feel. The cameras stayed live, jittery and rain smeared, catching every breath I took, every flicker of fear that crossed a soldier’s face, every micro adjustment of the machines as they recalibrated around a reality that refused to behave.I felt it before I heard it.The noise.Not shouting. Not yet. A pressure. A low roar spreading outward, like a crowd inhaling all at once. The city was waking up properly now. Phones buzzing. Doors opening. People stepping outside because something in their bones told them this morning was different.Adrian’s hand was still gripping mine. Too tight. Grounding. His palm was warm, steady, the only thing keeping me from floating apart under the weight of everything pressing in.“You’re shaking,” he said.“I know,” I replied. “Don’t let go.”He didn’t.Seraphine moved fast,

The word international did not sound real.It landed wrong, like it belonged to another language, another life, one where my name was already a headline instead of something Adrian said when he was afraid. Rain ran down my face, into my mouth, metallic and bitter, and for a second all I could hear was my own pulse, loud and stupid in my ears.International.I laughed.It slipped out of me before I could stop it, sharp and cracked and completely unhinged. The crowd flinched at the sound. Adrian turned toward me fast, his eyes searching my face like he was afraid something inside me had finally snapped.“They moved fast,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “I’ll give them that.”The man in the coat didn’t look pleased by my reaction. He looked rattled. That was new. He had expected fear. Tears. Begging. Something that fit the story he was already rehearsing.“You are hereby—” he began.“No,” I cut in, raising my voice. “You don’t get to read it like that.”The soldiers behind him

The silence after my name felt louder than the crowd ever had.Not empty silence. Loaded. The kind that pressed against the eardrums and dared someone to fill it with a lie. Faces stared out from the screens, sharp suits and neutral backdrops and eyes trained to give nothing away. Power liked distance. Power liked controlled lighting and clean audio and the illusion that it could pause whenever things got uncomfortable.This time, it couldn’t.Rain tapped against the nearest camera housing, irregular and human and impossible to mute. Somewhere behind me a woman coughed. A siren wailed and cut off abruptly, like even the city had realized it needed to listen.“Proceed,” the silver haired judge said.My mouth went dry.Adrian shifted closer, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine. Not shielding. Steadying. Seraphine stood just behind my other side, eyes scanning the perimeter, body locked into readiness that had nothing to do with the screens and everything to do with what might ha

The door opened like nothing was wrong.That was the most unsettling part.No rush. No raised voices. No visible threat. Just three people stepping inside as if this were a scheduled meeting on a calendar everyone had agreed to weeks ago. Suits pressed clean. Expressions neutral in the way that took years of practice. The kind of calm that came from knowing rules bent when you applied enough pressure in the right places.The air shifted anyway.I felt it before anyone spoke. My skin prickled, a low warning buzzing under my ribs, the same sensation I’d learned to trust long before tonight. Trouble didn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it smiled and waited for you to sit down.“Thank you for seeing us,” the woman in the center said.She was mid forties maybe, hair pulled back so tightly it looked like it hurt, eyes sharp and assessing. Not curious. Measuring. She held a thin tablet against her chest like a shield.Seraphine didn’t move aside. “You weren’t invited.”The woman smiled s