บททั้งหมดของ Runaway Heiress: The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Sophia Tan was a professional listener. As the CEO of Tan Communications, she was paid to listen to crises, to spin them, and to bury them.But sitting in the back booth of a quiet, dimly lit bar in Tribeca, listening to the ghost of her best friend tell the story of the last five years, she felt like an amateur.Aurora—Ariane—sat across from her. She was wearing the "wolf" suit, the charcoal one, but she had taken off her sunglasses. Her eyes, those familiar, beloved, Vale eyes, were red-rimmed and terrified.She had just told Sophia everything.The wedding. The crimson robe. The pregnancy. The attic. The birth on the floor. The rise of AVA.And the return."You had a baby," Sophia whispered, her hand covering her mouth. It wasn't an accusation. It was a marvel. "Aurora... you had a baby. Alone. In a maid's room.""I wasn't alone," Aurora said, her voice steady but soft. "I had Elias. And... I had Ethan."She pulled out her phone. She swiped to a photo. Ethan at the park, laughing, h

The world was hungry, and Sophia Tan was a master chef.The launch of the "Art of Survival" campaign had been a controlled detonation. But what followed in the next forty-eight hours was a wildfire that jumped the firebreak.It wasn't just a fashion story anymore. It was a cultural phenomenon.Aurora sat in her office at the flagship store, her phone buzzing with a relentless, frantic rhythm on the concrete desk.She didn't answer it. She couldn't.She was staring at the magazine cover that had just been delivered by courier. It wasn't Vogue. It wasn't WWD.It was Time.THE SILENT REVOLUTION: How Ariane Rousseau Redefined Power.The cover image was stark. It was just her hands. Her scarred, calloused, elegant hands, pinning a piece of black wool. No face. No name. Just the work."They're calling you the 'Anti-Celebrity'," Sophia said, pacing the office, her own phone pressed to her ear. She paused, listening, then barked, "No. No interviews. No television. She speaks through the cloth

The dossier sat on Liam Cross’s desk, a thin, unassuming stack of paper that weighed more than the building it was housed in. It was 8 AM. The city outside was waking up, a gray, indifferent beast stretching its limbs. But inside the glass office, time had stopped. Liam sat in his chair, his back rigid, his hands resting on the mahogany surface on either side of the file. He hadn't opened it yet. Blackwood had delivered it personally, ten minutes ago. "We found the partner," Blackwood had said, his voice devoid of triumph, heavy with something else. Something like awe. "And we found the 'why'." Liam looked at the cover of the file. It was blank. He was a man who built his life on data. On facts. On knowing the answer before the question was asked. But this... this felt like opening a grave. He reached out. His hand, usually so steady, had a faint, almost imperceptible tremor. He flipped the cover. The first page was not a document. It was a photograph.

The invitation had been sitting on Aurora’s desk for a week.The Annual Children's Hope Gala.It was a different kind of event than the Met or the Arts Foundation. It wasn't about fashion or art. It was about "family." It was about "community." It was a soft-focus, philanthropic trap designed to make billionaires feel like saints.And, as the blueprint of her new, "visible" life demanded, Maison AVA was a sponsor.So was Cross Empire.Aurora stood in front of her mirror in the penthouse. She was wearing a suit again, but this one was different. It was not black. It was not charcoal.It was a deep, rich, forest green velvet.It was softer than her usual armor. Less "wolf," more... human.Because today, she wasn't going alone."Maman! Look!"Ethan burst into the room. He was wearing a miniature tuxedo. A real one. Black tie, white shirt, and a tiny, velvet cummerbund that matched her suit.He looked adorable. He looked like a prince.And he looked, terrifyingly, like a miniature Liam Cr

The American Museum of Natural History was a cathedral of bones.It was vast, echoing, and smelled faintly of floor wax and old dust—the scent of time standing still. It was the perfect place to hide, surrounded by things that had already lived, died, and been cataloged.Aurora walked through the Hall of Saurischian Dinosaurs, her heels clicking a sharp, solitary rhythm on the terrazzo floor. She was wearing her "weekend armor"—dark denim, a oversized cashmere sweater the color of oatmeal, and the inevitable sunglasses, though she had pushed them up onto her head in the dim light.Ethan was five steps ahead of her. Always five steps.He was vibrating with energy, a small, navy-blue blur darting between the massive, fossilized legs of an Apatosaurus."Maman! Look! It’s the Grand Dragon!" he shouted, pointing at the T-Rex, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling."It is a Tyrannosaurus, mon ange," Aurora corrected gently, keeping her eyes on him, her internal radar sweeping the room.