Semua Bab Pregnant For My Ex-Husband’s Billionaire Best Friend: Bab 71 - Bab 80

Sabrina’s POV.The morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse was different today. It wasn't the harsh, glaring sun of the desert that had burned our eyes just days back, nor was it the cold, grey light of the waiting room where we had watched the monitors for hours.It was soft, golden, and clean. It bathed the modern furniture in a honeyed glow, turning the stark white room into something warm and inviting.I woke up slowly, floating up from the depths of a dreamless sleep. I stretched my limbs under the high-thread-count sheets, feeling the luxury of the fabric against my skin. For the first time in months—perhaps for the first time since I walked out of Leon’s house—there was no knot of dread in my stomach. No phantom vibration of a phone signaling a threat from Patricia. No shadow of a hitman looming over us.The silence in the penthouse wasn't heavy or pregnant with danger. It was peaceful. It was the sound of a world that had finally stopped s

Leon’s POV.The holding cell smelled of bleach, urine, and despair.I sat on the cold metal bench, my suit torn, my lip swollen to the size of a plum. I had been there for twenty-four hours.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Zara’s face. Not the terrified face she showed the police, but the cold, dead eyes she showed me right before the sirens arrived.The heavy steel door buzzed open.My lawyer walked in. He was a public defender—a harried man with coffee stains on his tie—because my assets were frozen and I couldn't afford my usual firm. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and exhaustion."Mr. Adams," he said, sitting across from me at the bolted-down table. "It’s not good.""I didn't touch her," I said, my voice raspy. "I told the officers. She staged it. Her and the boyfriend. They framed me.""The boyfriend gave a statement," the lawyer said, opening a file. "Henry. He claims he came over to help her move out because she was afraid of your temper. He claims you attacked them

Leon’s POV.The motel room smelled of stale cigarette smoke, mildew, and desperation. It was a far cry from the Adams Estate, with its Egyptian cotton sheets and vaulted ceilings. This place had peeling wallpaper, a carpet that felt sticky under my shoes, and thin walls that let me hear every argument and headboard-thump from the neighbors.It was all I could afford with the cash I had pawned my watch for—the other watch, the vintage Omega I had hidden in the glove box for a rainy day after sending my mother off to wherever she could also afford. I hadn't expected the rainy day to be a hurricane.I sat on the edge of the sagging mattress, staring at the television bolted to the wall.On the screen, Cole Lander was shaking hands with the Mayor. He looked impeccable in a navy suit that probably cost more than this entire building. The ticker tape at the bottom read: LANDER ENTERPRISES STOCK HITS RECORD HIGH.I gripped the plastic cup of cheap whiskey so hard it cracked.I changed the ch

Cole’s POV.The silence that settled over the house wasn't empty, it was full. It was heavy with relief, rich with the sudden absence of chaos. For weeks, it felt like we had been living in a wind tunnel, battered by threats, lawsuits, and the ghosts of Sabrina’s past.But tonight, the wind had stopped.I stood on the balcony, the glass doors slid open to let in the cool night air of Los Angeles. Below, the city was a grid of golden arteries, pulsing with life, but up here, it was just us. My phone was on the kitchen counter, powered off. Sabrina’s phone was in a drawer somewhere.For the first time since we got together, there was no enemy at the gate. Leon was neutralized, chasing his own tail. The board was silent. The media had moved on to the next shiny scandal.I heard the soft pad of bare feet behind me. I didn't turn around immediately, I just let the presence of her wash over me. Sabrina wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, resting her cheek against my back. She smel

Sabrina’s POV.The words on the screen blurred, swimming in a pool of tears I hadn't realized were falling.Pennyroyal. Black Cohosh. Abortifacient.Alice poured it down the sink and smiled.The floor beneath me felt like it was dissolving into quicksand. I grabbed the edge of the glass dining table to keep from collapsing, my knuckles turning white as I stared at the digital proof of my own torture.A montage of memories assaulted me, violent and vivid, flashing like a strobe light in my mind.I smelled the kitchen in the Adams estate—that sharp, cloying scent of mint that I had always assumed was just Alice’s expensive potpourri or a new cleaning product.I felt the porcelain of the teacup, hot against my fingertips. I saw Alice standing over me, her pearls gleaming in the sunlight, handing me the steaming cup with a sympathetic smile."Drink up, darling," she would say, her voice smooth as silk. "It’s an old family recipe. It will strengthen the womb. We need that baby to be strong