บททั้งหมดของ Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride: บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

The children's play area in the corner of the Central Park Zoo was a riot of color and noise. Toddlers screamed with delight as they slid down plastic chutes, while parents hovered nearby, clutching iced lattes and feigning relaxation.Aurora sat on a wooden bench, her back straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She wasn't feigning anything. She was watching.Ten feet away, Liam Cross was pushing Ethan on a swing."Higher, Papa! Higher!" Ethan shrieked, his laughter a bright, piercing sound that cut through the ambient noise of the city.Liam laughed too. He pushed gently but firmly, his large hands—his "bear hands"—guiding the swing with a natural, easy rhythm. He was wearing his "Dad Uniform" again—jeans and a soft gray t-shirt that hugged his shoulders. He looked relaxed. He looked... happy.He looked like he had been doing this his whole life.And that was the knife.Aurora watched them, a cold, hollow ache expanding in her chest. It wasn't jealousy, exactly. She wanted E

The drive home from the museum was quieter than usual. Ethan, exhausted from his "supervised" pirate adventure and the emotional whiplash of the tire swing negotiation, was asleep in his car seat. Aurora sat in the back with him, watching the city lights blur past. Liam was in the front, next to the driver. He wasn't looking at his phone. He was watching the reflection of his son in the side mirror. The "Awkward Bonding" was over. The first hurdle was cleared. But the race was far from finished. Ethan stirred as the car pulled into the underground garage of the penthouse building. He blinked, rubbing his eyes with a fist. "Are we home?" he mumbled. "Yes, baby," Aurora said. "Back to the castle." They took the elevator up. Liam carried Ethan, who was now fully awake but enjoying the luxury of being carried by a "bear." Inside the penthouse, the air was warm and smelled of the lavender candles Sylvie lit in the evenings. "Can Liam read me a story?" Ethan asked as Aurora helped

The room was small, smelled of stale coffee and floor wax, and was filled with the most terrifying people Liam Cross had ever met. Other fathers. It was 7 PM on a Tuesday. He was in the basement of a community center in the West Village. He was wearing his "Dad Uniform"—jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket. But he still felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing. He was a billionaire CEO. He owned towers. He moved markets. And he had absolutely no idea how to swaddle a baby. Or, more accurately, how to handle a six-year-old who had big feelings about pancakes and dragons. He had found the flyer online. Building Bridges: A Workshop for Reconnecting Fathers. It sounded like corporate jargon. But the tagline had caught him. Because it’s never too late to show up. He sat in a circle of metal folding chairs. There were ten other men. Some looked like him—divorced, regretful, trying. Others looked like they had been dragged here by court order. "Welcome," the facilitator said. He was a man na

The Saturday after the "Career Day" triumph was quiet. It was raining, a soft, steady drizzle that turned the Manhattan skyline into a watercolor painting of gray and silver. The penthouse was warm, smelling of the cinnamon rolls Ethan had insisted on "baking" (which mostly involved him pouring icing over pre-made dough). Liam was there. He had arrived at 9 AM, bringing coffee and the New York Times. He hadn't left. He was currently on the floor of the living room, helping Ethan build a "fortress" out of sofa cushions and blankets. "This," Ethan explained, pointing to a gap in the cushions, "is the secret tunnel. For the dragon to escape." "Smart," Liam said, reinforcing the wall with a throw pillow. "Dragons always need an exit strategy." Aurora sat at the kitchen island, watching them. Her laptop was open, displaying the latest sales figures for the "Cub" line—the children's wear collection she had launched after the Career Day inspiration. It was selling out. But she wasn't

The penthouse was quiet, bathed in the warm, ambient glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The chaotic, high-stakes rhythm of the day—the meetings, the press, the business of being Cross and Vale—had finally wound down. Ethan had been bathed, his small body smelling of lavender and clean cotton. He was wearing his dinosaur pajamas, the cape from his superhero costume draped over the foot of his bed like a sentinel. It was 8 PM. Bedtime. Usually, this was Aurora's domain. It was her sacred hour, the time when the CEO vanished and the "Maman" took over. She would read Goodnight Moon or The Little Prince, her voice a soft, rhythmic lullaby that chased away the dragons. But tonight, Liam stood in the doorway. He was wearing a simple gray t-shirt and sweatpants, his feet bare on the plush carpet. He held a book in his hand. Not a picture book. A chapter book. The Hobbit. Aurora looked up from where she was tucking Ethan in. "That's... ambitious," s