Semua Bab The CEO’s Secret Triplets: Bab 61 - Bab 70

The rain lashing against the windshield felt like a physical barrier between the car and the man standing in the road. Dante’s hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the engine idling with a low, predatory hum. In the back seat, Bella had pulled the children closer, her body a literal shield against whatever Silas represented in the dark.​Dante shoved the door open and stepped out into the downpour. The cold water soaked his shirt instantly, but he didn't feel it. He walked toward Silas, stopping only when the headlights of the SUV cast their long, distorted shadows across the wet pavement.​"Liquidated?" Dante’s voice was a low growl, nearly lost to the wind. "The Blackwood Trust is a ten-billion-dollar entity, Silas. You don't just 'funnel' it into a clinic in the Alps."​"It’s not just a clinic, Dante," Silas said. He held out the tablet, the screen protected by a clear plastic casing. The light reflected off the rain, but the red lines of the transaction logs were unmis

The French embassy was an island of limestone and golden light in the middle of a London that suddenly felt like enemy territory. Inside the wrought-iron gates, the air was still, smelling of floor wax and old diplomacy. But as the representative from the Ministry of the Interior handed the tablet to Dante, the "neutral ground" felt more like a cage."Paternity Nullification?" Dante’s voice was a low, jagged rasp. He looked at the document—the seal of the Swiss Federal Office of Justice sat at the top like a predator’s mark. "They’re arguing that because the extraction was funded by a corporate trust, the biological link is secondary to the contractual one?""They’re arguing that the embryos were assets of the Geneva Maternity Group until the moment of live birth," Silas said. He looked exhausted, his tie undone, standing near a bowl of silk flowers that looked too perfect for the mess they were in. "Under the fine print of the extraction agreement Bella signed in 2022—the one Julian

The dawn that broke over the Thames was not the dramatic gold of a victory, but a thin, watery grey that slowly peeled back the fog. The sirens had finally gone silent. The black SUVs had been towed or driven away, and the shouting of the press had been relegated to the far side of the police barricade.Dante and Bella stood on the sidewalk just outside the embassy gates. The blue ledgers were tucked under Dante’s arm, heavy and cold, the physical weight of a decade of secrets. Across the narrow strip of pavement, Evelyn stood alone. Without the mahogany backdrops of the estate or the glass walls of the solarium, she looked remarkably human—small, tired, and stripped of the armor she had worn for forty years."The trusteeship is dissolved?" Dante asked, his voice sounding raspy even to his own ears."I called an emergency session of the senior partners an hour ago," Evelyn said. She didn't look at the cameras in the distance. She looked only at her son. "I told them that if they didn'

The shadows in the cottage library weren't like the shadows in London. Here, they were soft, cast by the flickering orange tongues of a dying fire, yet they felt heavier. Dante sat at the small mahogany desk—a piece he had brought from the estate because it was the only thing that felt familiar—and stared at the blank screen of his phone.2019.The number was a splinter in his mind. In 2019, he had been the rising star of Blackwood Global, a man who measured his life in quarterly earnings and strategic acquisitions. He hadn't known Bella existed. Or so he had thought. He had met her in a gallery in 2021, a chance encounter amidst champagne and avant-garde oil paintings. A "miscalculation" with a broken elevator and a long night had led to Geneva.But the text message suggested the miscalculation was an architecture.Dante stood up, the floorboards groaning under his weight. He moved to the window, looking out at the black expanse of the valley. He needed to talk to his mother, but he

The letter didn’t smell of mahogany or high-stakes litigation. It smelled of rosemary and mountain air, the paper thick and slightly yellowed at the edges. Bella sat at the small kitchen table of the cottage, her hands shaking so violently that the tea in her cup sloshed over the rim.Dante stood behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. He could feel the tremors vibrating through her frame. They had spent the last forty-eight hours purging the Blackwood ghosts, only to find a living one waiting in a village they had never heard of."Sofia," Bella whispered, her thumb tracing the elegant, looping script of the signature. "My father told me she died in a car accident when I was twelve. He showed me the grave in Milan. I spent years leaving flowers for a stone that meant nothing.""Silas tracked the postmark," Dante said, his voice low and steady. "It’s from a place called Malga di Resia. It’s near the border. If she’s there, and she’s reached out now, she knows the Blackwood stru