The Billionaire's forbidden Ward 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 21 - 챕터 30

The penthouse suite of the Obsidian Hotel felt less like a sanctuary and more like a gilded cage, though with Julian Thorne as the warden, I found myself less inclined to escape. The city of London sprawled beneath us, a carpet of twinkling lights that seemed to mock the darkness of the corporate war I’d just declared.I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, the cold surface grounding me. The adrenaline that had carried me through the boardroom was gone, replaced by a low, humming heat that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the man pouring two fingers of amber liquid at the bar behind me."You’re thinking about the fall," Julian’s voice drifted over, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous."I’m thinking about the landing," I corrected, not turning around. "Silas has friends in the Ministry. He has lobbyists. He has men who handle 'inconveniences' with a silenced pistol and a shallow grave. I just insulted his manhood in front of the people who sign his checks."I hea

The sleek, matte-black Audi RS7 tore through the London rain like a silent bullet. Inside, the atmosphere was a volatile mix of high-stakes adrenaline and the lingering, suffocating heat of what had just been interrupted in the penthouse. Julian drove with a focused, surgical aggression, his knuckles white on the leather steering wheel.I sat in the passenger seat, my laptop open on my knees, the blue light of the screen reflecting in my eyes. My fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard, navigating the layers of encryption that shielded the heart of Blue Iris."Three minutes out," Julian said, his voice a low growl. He glanced at me, his gaze lingering on my lips—still swollen from his kiss—before returning to the road. "Tell me the failsafe is holding.""Silas’s team is efficient, I’ll give them that," I muttered, watching a red bar crawl across my monitor. "They’ve breached the physical perimeter of the Southwark facility. They’re using a thermal lance on the server room door. Th

The light in Julian’s penthouse was different at six in the morning. It wasn't the soft, forgiving glow of dusk; it was a sharp, clinical gold that cut across the rumpled charcoal sheets of his oversized bed.I woke up to the sensation of heat. Julian was behind me, a solid wall of muscle and intent, his arm draped possessively over my waist. The events of the server farm felt like a fever dream—the rain, the adrenaline, the desperate, bruising hunger of our bodies finally colliding. My skin felt sensitized, humming with the memory of his touch.I tried to shift, but his grip tightened, pulling me back against the hard planes of his chest."Running away already, Elara?" His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, thick with sleep and something far more predatory. He pressed a lingering, searing kiss to the space between my shoulder blades."I have a board meeting at ten," I managed to say, though my resolve was melting faster than ice in a furnace. "And if I’m late to my first day as the undi

The encrypted phone on the mahogany desk didn't just ring; it pulsed with a low, rhythmic vibration that felt like a heartbeat. The hexadecimal code on the screen was a shifting mosaic of defiance. Julian’s hand hovered over the device, his knuckles white."If you answer that," Julian said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, velvet register, "the game moves from the shadows into the light. Are you ready for 'The Architect' to know your face?"I pulled his oversized shirt tighter around me, the scent of him grounding me against the sudden chill of the room. "They already know my face, Julian. They just don't know my teeth."I reached out and swiped the screen. I didn't say hello. I waited.The silence on the other end lasted for five agonizing seconds. Then, a voice filtered through—distorted, synthesized, and eerily calm. It wasn't the voice of a villain in a movie; it sounded like a recording of a recording, stripped of all human inflection."The daughter of Elias Vance has a penc

The drive to the outskirts was a blurred streak of neon and adrenaline. Julian drove the vintage, reinforced black charger like a man possessed, his knuckles white against the leather-wrapped steering wheel. Every few miles, he’d check the rearview mirror, his jaw set in a grim line that spoke of old wars and new enemies. I sat in the passenger seat, the silver USB drive clutched so tightly in my hand that the metal edges bit into my palm.We reached the bunker just as a cold, biting rain began to slick the pavement. It was a nondescript warehouse on the edge of the industrial district, a place where secrets went to die. But inside, behind three feet of lead-shielded concrete and a biometric lock that required Julian’s palm, iris, and a voice command, sat a cathedral of technology.The air inside was chilled, filtered to a clinical purity, and humming with the low, steady drone of isolated servers."This is it," Julian said, his voice echoing in the vast, dimly lit space. "The 'Black