Semua Bab The Billionaire's Caregiver: Bab 31 - Bab 40

The morning after the illusion, the D’Angelo mansion felt colder — heavier somehow, as if the house itself knew what had happened.Leo moved through the halls like a ghost, his cane clicking rhythmically on the marble floors. The echo followed him from corridor to corridor, each step a reminder that the house no longer felt like his own.He hadn’t slept. Not really. When he did close his eyes, he saw her — standing in the doorway, her voice gentle and full of truth. The illusion had been so vivid that even now, his mind struggled to separate it from memory.Luca had stayed with him through the night, keeping quiet vigil. They hadn’t spoken much after the episode, not because there was nothing to say, but because neither knew how to begin.Leo’s body still trembled faintly as he reached the study. The same chair, the same window, the same faint smell of rain lingered in the air. Only now, the air carried something heavier than emptiness. It carried grief.Luca entered quietly behind hi

The week passed quietly, the kind of quiet Maya hadn’t felt in a long time.Her mornings were simple again — sunlight through half-open blinds, the scent of coffee, and a city waking outside her window. No guarded stares, no tension humming beneath the air, no mansion walls closing in.Her life had downsized, but in the best way.She had her routines back.She usually visited her father at the hospital before his therapy sessions, helped him practice simple stretches, and stayed long enough to make him laugh before she left. Then she’d spend her afternoons reviewing her textbooks or filling out enrollment forms.The envelope from St. Alden College sat open on her table that morning — Application Confirmed: Bachelor of Science in Physiotherapy (Part-Time).She ran her fingers over the letter, the paper smooth beneath her skin. It felt like more than approval; it felt like permission to start living again.Her phone buzzed. Ethan.Hey, coffee after your hospital visit? I promise no busi

The sharp knock came at precisely four-thirty.Maya froze, her pen hovering over the papers spread across her desk. She hadn’t been expecting anyone—not today, not after the invitation. Could it be Ethan? Her heart stuttered once. But no one else should know where she lived.She rose quietly and approached the door, peering through the peephole.Valentina Moretti.Impeccably dressed in white and gold, her posture poised, every gesture refined. Even standing in the narrow hallway, Valentina carried the same effortless dominance she had inside the D’Angelo mansion. Wealth. Power. Control. All wrapped in flawless composure.Maya’s breath caught. She stepped back instinctively, her hand tightening on the lock.“Who’s there?” she asked cautiously, forcing her voice steady. “Can I help you?”Valentina’s reply was smooth, almost gentle.“Maya… It’s Valentina. May I come in? I’m not here to fight, or cause trouble. I just want to talk.”The calm tone only made Maya more uneasy. “How does she

The night unfolded in layers of elegance and tension. The Moretti estate glowed brighter than ever, its marble halls alive with the murmur of guests, the soft clink of champagne glasses, and the faint hum of a live orchestra tucked beneath the grand staircase. Every crystal shimmered, every petal of the floral arrangements was perfectly placed.To anyone outside the families’ inner circle, it was a flawless display of wealth and control.To those within it, it was a night pulsing with unspoken agendas.Leo positioned himself near the front, his wheelchair angled just off-center—close enough to see everything, but distant enough to be overlooked when convenient. His black suit was crisp, the D’Angelo crest embroidered subtly on his pocket square. He looked calm, but Luca, standing quietly beside him, saw the tension behind that practiced composure.“Luca,” Leo said quietly, eyes fixed on the crowd. “I want to know everything about that guy. Who he is to her, and why he’s here.”“I alre

The D’Angelo residence had never looked so alive. Beneath the chandeliers, the marble gleamed like liquid gold; laughter and music wove through the gardens, soft and deceptive. The after-party had begun, a celebration meant to unite two dynasties, yet the air inside felt taut, like a smile stretched too far.Leo sat still through the first hour, his champagne untouched, his gaze distant. He had fulfilled his obligations, raised his glass when prompted, endured the endless photographs, tolerated Valentina’s rehearsed touches on his sleeve. But patience, for Leo, had become a thin thread fraying at the edges.He turned his head slightly. Across the room, Luca caught his eye. The faintest nod passed between them. Moments later, whispers began to ripple through the staff: Mr. D’Angelo isn’t feeling well. He’ll retire early.Lorenzo accepted the explanation without suspicion, only mild concern. “He’s had a difficult week,” he murmured to Maurice Moretti. Maurice nodded gravely, sympathy et