Semua Bab Pregnant For My Ex-Husband’s Billionaire Best Friend: Bab 81 - Bab 90

Cole’s POV.The heavy door of the SUV slammed shut, sealing out the noise of the paparazzi and the drumming rain. The silence inside the vehicle was instant and thick, smelling of leather and tension."He’s going to her," I said, brushing the water from my jacket before climbing into the back seat next to Sabrina.Sabrina looked pale, her face illuminated by the soft amber reading lights of the car. Her hands were resting protectively on her stomach, a gesture that had become constant over the last hour. She searched my face, looking for cracks in my armor."Do you think he believed you?" she whispered.I thought about Leon’s face in that motel room—the way his arrogance had crumbled into a horrified, infantile confusion."He didn't want to," I said, reaching for her hand. It was ice cold. "But Leon isn't stupid. He’s just blind. He’s spent his whole life looking at his mother through a filter of adoration. I just gave him the glasses."I tapped the partition glass. "Vance, are we set

Leon’s POV.The Chateau Marmont rose from the hillside like a gothic castle, its spires piercing the storm clouds that hung low over Sunset Boulevard. It was a place of secrets, of Hollywood debauchery, and of ghosts.Tonight, I was adding one more ghost to its roster.I parked my rental car two blocks away, in the shadow of a construction site. I couldn't risk the valet recognizing me, even in my disheveled state. I pulled my collar up against the driving rain and began the walk up the winding driveway.The rain plastered my hair to my skull and soaked through the thin fabric of my cheap suit, but I didn't feel the cold. I felt a burning, furnace-like heat in my chest, radiating from the pocket where the switchblade rested against my hip.I bypassed the main lobby. I knew this hotel better than I knew my own soul. I had spent my twenties here, hosting parties, closing deals, and cheating on girlfriends. I knew the service entrance near the garden bungalows. I knew that the lock on th

Sabrina’s POV.Vance left shortly after finishing his coffee, the heavy, metallic click of the front door locking behind him signaling a shift in the atmosphere. The penthouse, which had felt like a high-tech fortress for the last week, suddenly felt like a home again.The smell of blueberry pancakes lingered in the air, sweet and domestic, battling the scent of the rain-washed city outside. I sat on the barstool, scraping the last bit of syrup from my plate, feeling a kind of fullness I hadn't experienced in months. It wasn’t just the food, it was the absence of the knots in my stomach.Cole was leaning against the granite island, watching me with a look so intense it made my toes curl. He reached out, his thumb brushing away a crumb from the corner of my lip."You look better," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Color is coming back to your cheeks.""I feel better," I admitted, resting my hand on his forearm. "It’s strange. The world is the same as it was yesterday, but it looks comp

Sabrina’s POV.Six months had passed since that dinner by the ocean. Six months since the storm that destroyed the Adams dynasty finally broke, leaving behind a clear, open sky.Six months of peace. Six months of healing. Six months of watching my body change from a vessel of trauma into a home for life.It was a strange sensation, waking up every morning without a knot of dread in my stomach. For years, my life had been defined by the next crisis, the next insult from Alice, or the next cold shoulder from Leon. Silence had been something to fear because it usually meant a storm was gathering. But now? Silence was just peace. It was the sound of the wind against the penthouse glass, the hum of the refrigerator, and the steady, reassuring beat of my own heart.I stood in the center of the nursery in the penthouse, running my hand over the smooth, unfinished wood of the crib. We hadn't moved to the Santa Barbara villa yet—Dr. Evans was adamant that I stay close to Cedars-Sinai for until

Sabrina’s POV.The Santa Barbara sun was different from the Los Angeles sun. It was softer, filtered through the salt spray of the ocean and the leaves of the ancient oak tree that dominated our backyard.I sat on the patio, a sketchbook open on my lap, watching Cole.He was standing under the oak tree, holding five-month-old Asher high in the air. Asher was shrieking with delight—a bubbly, wet sound that was the best music I had ever heard. Cole was laughing too, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing tanned forearms as he swung our son gently through the air."You’re going to make him throw up his milk," I called out, smiling."He loves it," Cole called back, bringing Asher down to pepper his chubby neck with kisses. "He’s an adrenaline junkie like his dad."We had moved to the villa four months ago. It was everything Cole had promised. The white stucco walls, the terracotta roof, the privacy. Life was perfect. Boring, quiet, and perfect. The nightmares about Alice had stopped