บททั้งหมดของ Hiding The Billionaire's Son : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Georgia's POV"She thinks she's a God!" Lorraine snarls.I settle into my executive chair. The leather cools my back, while Lorraine vibrates with a frantic, ugly energy. She is pacing the length of my office."Just because she has some pathetic little corporation and a title, she thinks she can look me in the eye and threaten me? In our own building?"She lunges toward my desk, slamming her palms onto the mahogany. Her engagement ring clatters against the wood. "We need to stop her, Georgia. She’s going to ruin Saturday. I can feel it. Damian is... he’s different. We should have Marcus kidnap her. Just for forty-eight hours. Lock her in a cellar Friday night and toss her out on Sunday morning once it's over."My fingers steeple under my chin. I say nothing, letting the silence stretch until her chest stops heaving. "That," I drawl, "is a remarkably foolish suggestion. We are not back-alley thugs, Lorraine. And Samantha is no longer the clueless, starving girl we discarded five year

Damian's POV "It’s not a doctor. It’s a therapist," Seth says. "Your 11:00 AM was canceled. I decided to make an executive decision and fill the slot with something that might actually save your life."I turn on him, my hands balling into fists. "You’ve overstepped your boundaries by a mile, Seth. I am the CEO of Sterling Empire. I am not mentally unstable, and I certainly don't need a stranger dissecting my head two days before my wedding.""A therapist isn't a psychiatrist, and unstable isn't the word I’d use," Seth meets my glare without flinching. When did he get this audacious? "I’d use drowning. You haven't slept, you're drinking at dawn, and you're about to get into something you clearly don't want for life. Just go in. One hour. If you hate it, you can fire me the moment we get back to the car."The rage simmers in my gut. My pride screams at me to put him in his place. But the exhaustion is heavier. I look at the frosted glass, and find myself turning the handle.The office

Samantha's POV My mother lets me cry. She doesn't interrupt, nor tell me to stop. She just breathes on the other end of the line."The mall," I say on the floor. The cold of it doesn’t compare to the chill in my chest as I sob into the phone. I pour out everything. Charlie, the cruelty of that man in the showroom, and the jagged hole Timothy left when he vanished."I miss him, Mom," I choke out, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I miss Timothy’s hands, and I’m starting to think Manhattan was a beautiful, expensive mistake. Charlie keeps looking for pieces of a man who isn’t there. He asked a stranger to be his father. A stranger who insulted him.""Oh, baby," Linda sighs. "Breathe, Samantha."I breathe."Why? Why does he keep doing this? Will it be over once father day passes?" "Because he's five, Samantha," her voice is steady. "He's not asking because you're not enough. He's asking because he sees other children with fathers and he's curious. That's all it is. Curiosity."

Damian's POV I stare at Seth as if he’s grown a second head. My hands are still clasped with Lorraine’s, her skin clammy against mine. A surge of irritation flickers through the numbness of my chest. What the hell is wrong with him?I drop Lorraine’s hand and descend the three steps of the altar to meet him in the center of the aisle. The murmurs from the two hundred guests rise like a swarm of hornets. My mother is on her feet instantly, her face set in fury as she strides toward us."Seth, have you lost your mind?" I hiss, grabbing his shoulder."Damian, I need to talk to you privately. Now," Seth pants. He’s drenched in sweat, his chest heaving under his suit jacket."This is disrespectful!" Georgia barks, reaching us. "Whatever it is, it sure can wait until after the vows. Guards!""It can't wait," Seth says, his desperate eyes darting to mine. He is tilting his head subtly to the door. A signal.Shit. I should have just answered the phone. I wouldn’t be standing here in the mid

Samantha's POVWhat I was expecting was a sour stench from the vomit I didn't get a chance to clean up yesterday. Instead, I'm met with a metallic and damp smell.Our apartment is now a lake!"What... what is this?" I whisper, my voice cracking.Water shimmers over the hardwood, reflecting the silhouette of my life. My furniture's been slaughtered. The first single-seater sofa is flipped onto the water, the cushion of the second is sliced open. My bookshelf has been turned over too, my favorite novels now floating like drowned birds."Mommy? Why is the house a swimming pool?" Charlie asks from Timothy’s arms."It’s just... a bad pipe, baby," I lie, though my heart is screaming a different name. Lorraine. Or Georgia. This has their fingerprints all over it. I know damn well I didn't leave no tap on. Even if I did, my drains aren't blocked.But for what exactly? Why tear apart my apartment? Even my mounted TV is on the floor, in the water!My heels splash as we move to the bedroom. It's