บททั้งหมดของ The Hidden Heiress Returns : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Hailey's POV The wind on the rooftop was merciless.It tore through silk and skin alike, screaming across the open expanse as if it wanted to rip us from the building and scatter us across Manhattan in unrecognizable pieces. My hair whipped violently around my face, stinging my eyes, forcing tears I didn’t have time to acknowledge. The city below glittered with cruel indifference, thousands of lights pulsing in the dark like it wasn’t witnessing a life-or-death standoff forty stories in the air.The woman didn’t shoot.She stood near the helipad entrance, feet planted wide, posture loose but ready, like a predator confident enough to wait. Her tactical mask erased any hint of humanity from her face, smooth and blank, but her body spoke fluently in threat. The weapon in her hands wasn’t shaking. Her breathing wasn’t rushed.She was in full control.My pulse thundered so loudly in my ears it nearly drowned out the wind. My fingers curled instinctively into the fabric of Kingsley’s coat

Hailey's POV The Norway Mansion had always felt very safe to me.Polished wood, old money, jasmine drifting in through open windows—comfort layered so deeply into the walls that I had once believed nothing bad could ever truly happen here. As a child, this house had been my fortress. As a teenager, my escape and as a woman, my inheritance.Now it felt like a mausoleum.Kingsley and I walked through the front doors together, our hands joined together—not tightly, not desperately, but deliberately.We wanted to make a statement. And we really made the statement.The staff froze the moment they saw us, the tension snapping through the foyer like a live wire. No one spoke, no one moved. They knew something had shifted, even if they didn’t yet understand what it was.I didn’t slow down either.My heels struck the marble floor with a steady rhythm, each step echoing louder than the last as we crossed into the heart of the mansion. The study door stood open, light spilling out across the c

Hailey's POV For half a second, my heart stopped breathing.Janet’s words didn’t echo. They didn’t need to, they sat there in the grand foyer like a loaded weapon left on the marble floor, daring someone to pick it up.I stared at her.Then I laughed.It wasn’t hysterical. It wasn’t cracked or wet with tears. It was short, sharp, and deliberate—the sound of a woman who refused, absolutely refused, to be reduced to a reaction.“Pregnancy.”Of course she always has something under her sleeves.I let the laugh fade and tilted my head slightly, studying her the way I might examine a poorly forged document. Janet stood near the foot of the staircase, one manicured hand pressed to her abdomen, the other clutching a glossy sonogram printout like it was a holy relic. She’d chosen her outfit carefully—soft fabric, muted color, nothing threatening. The costume of fragility.Behind her, my grandfather remained seated, hands folded over the head of his cane, watching the scene unfold with the q

Hailey's POV The lights in the hospital didn’t flicker, they went off immediately One second the hallway was blinding white, sterile and sharp, and the next it was swallowed whole—like someone had reached out and snapped the spine of the building. The hum of machines cut off mid-note. The air-conditioning sighed once and went silent. For a fraction of a second, there was nothing but confusion and the sound of too many people inhaling at once.Darkness rushed in.Not the soft kind, not the kind your eyes adjust to. This was thick, aggressive blackness, the kind that erased edges and swallowed depth, the kind that made you suddenly unsure whether you were standing upright or about to fall.Someone screamed.Footsteps scrambled. Shoes squealed against tile. A metal tray clattered to the floor somewhere nearby, the sound sharp and violent in the dark.I didn’t have time to panic.Someone's hands grabbed me.It was hard, certain and immediate.I was yanked backward, spun, my shoulder hit

Hailey's POV The penthouse is dark when we step inside, the city outside the glass walls reduced to distant lights and muted movement. Kingsley didn't bother turning on the overheads. He drops his keys on the console table too hard, the metal clatter echoing through the open space. I flinched, then hated myself for it.We didn't bother to speak on the way in, and didn't speak in the elevator either. The silence has weight now. It presses against my ears, against my chest, the kind that makes every small sound feel too loud.Kingsley shrugs off his jacket and throws it over the back of a chair. His movements are restless, sharp, like he’s trying to outrun something that keeps catching up. He runs a hand through his hair, then does it again, pacing from the windows to the kitchen and back.I walked more slowly, removing my heels from the door and placing them side by side, neat, controlled. It’s an old habit of mine. When things fall apart, I try to put things in order.The kitchen l