my Billionaire’s baby のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Louis’s POVThe plan was set in motion with a silence that felt more deadly than any shouted threat. Adrienne Cole was the architect, her mind a vault of cold precision. Marcus was the engineer, turning her blueprints into actionable, untraceable steps. My role was to be the immovable force. The unspoken promise of ruin that gave our quiet offer its teeth. Sierra’s resolve had been the catalyst. Seeing that steel in her eyes, forged in the fire of maternal fear, had shifted something fundamental in me. This was no longer just my fight. It was ours. And we would fight it in the shadows, where monsters like Victor were born, and where they could be made to disappear. Lenora Hale lived in a vineyard estate in Napa that was tasteful but not extravagant. Victor’s alimony payments were generous, but his attention was not. According to our files, he hadn’t seen his daughter, Elise, in over a year. Sierra and I took a private helicopter, touching down on a secluded pad miles away before t

Louis’s POVPreparations for the gala took over the house like a silent, efficient army. My mother’s stylist, a severe French woman named Claudette, arrived with racks of gowns and a team of assistants. For two days, the east wing was a flurry of fabric, pins, and rapid-fire French criticism that somehow seemed to build Sierra up rather than break her down.I watched from the doorway sometimes. Sierra stood on a low platform, patiently turning as Claudette fussed over a line of midnight blue silk. She looked like a stranger, and yet more herself than ever. There was a new stillness in her posture, a quiet acceptance of the armor she had to wear.“She has a good spine,” my mother observed, appearing beside me one afternoon. “Not just physically. Morally. She didn’t flinch from the hard choice with Victor. She won’t flinch from a room full of vipers.”“I don’t want her to have to face vipers,” I said, the old protective anger simmering.“Then you live in a cave. This is the world you bu

Louis’s POV At 8:00 AM sharp, Sierra walked into my study. She wore dark jeans and a simple sweater, her hair pulled back. She looked like she meant business. She carried a notebook and a pen.Marcus, standing by the screens, gave a slight, approving nod. My mother, who had insisted on attending—"This concerns the family's security, I am family"—sat in a wingback chair, a silent observer.“Alright,” I began, gesturing to the main screen where Marcus had pulled up a file. “Elias Crowe. Forty years old. Former military intelligence, dishonorably discharged for unspecified ‘ethical breaches.’ Went private fifteen years ago. He’s a ghost. No fixed address, uses burn phones, operates through a network of cutouts. He wasn’t Victor’s employee. He was a contractor. High-end, discrete surveillance and… problem solving.”“Problem solving,” Sierra repeated, her voice flat. “What does that mean?”Marcus answered. “It means he makes problems go away. Sometimes through blackmail. Sometimes through

Louis’s POVSierra was silent on the ride back, her face turned to the window, her profile carved from marble. I watched the live feed from the car, my hands clenched into fists on my desk. I had heard every word. The threat to Katie. The blackmail. The *recording*.My own voice, coolly offering Victor exile, played back in my head. It was a conversation that could be twisted a dozen ways by a prosecutor. At best, it was unethical. At worst, it was criminal conspiracy. Crowe was right—the stink would never leave. The Katherine Hope Initiative would be stillborn. Sierra’s hard-won public respect would evaporate. And Katie… her name would be dragged through a legal and media sewer.The car hadn’t even stopped at the porte-cochere before I was out the front door. I pulled Sierra from the vehicle and into my arms, holding her tight. I could feel the fine tremors running through her frame.“He has a recording,” she whispered into my chest.“I know.” I guided her inside, straight to the st

Louis’s POVNormalcy was a fragile, precious thing. We clung to it like a life raft. Katie started at her new, absurdly secure private school. Sierra began working with the architects and bakers to design a flagship location for “Savarina,” a patisserie concept that would be part of the Katherine Hope Initiative’s vocational wing. It was her dream, reborn in fire and gold. She was in her element, her eyes alight with a passion that had nothing to do with threats or security briefings.For two weeks, the monster in Sydney was silent. The ledger showed the monthly retainer payment had been received. No emails, no assessments. It was as if Alistair Ford was just a wealthy, reclusive man enjoying his retirement.I almost let myself believe it.Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, my assistant’s nervous voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Trevane, there’s a… a Mr. Donovan Shaw here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment. He says it’s urgent, and that you’d want to see him. He mentioned… he me