Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband! のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

I sat upright on the antique velvet sofa in my parents’ drawing-room, a position I maintained out of habit rather than comfort.The room was a pleasantly cluttered space filled with odd and expensive objects that defied any conventional decorum. A bronze Roman bust sported one of my father’s garishly colourful cashmere jumpers, this one featuring a whimsical cat motif, while a telescope stood perpetually aimed at the London Eye, as if awaiting some celestial event that never arrived.My mother, Jennifer, sat opposite me, holding a thin leather portfolio. My father, Holden, was nursing his fourth scotch of the evening.‘Right,’ my mother began, her tone the same one she used to open her university lectures. ‘We have refined the initial pool based on a thorough compatibility assessment. These seven candidates exhibit the most promising traits for long-term stability, given the particular demands of your career.’I suppressed an inward sigh. I had long accepted that parents, upon reaching

Portia called back minutes later, and the tremor in her voice confirmed everything.‘She’s not in the penthouse. I pressed the intercom like a madwoman; no one’s responding. The guy you said was sent by Cary, how can you be sure it wasn’t Cary who took her? He has a history of this. When they were married, he used to have men follow her wherever she went.’I forced myself to remain calm and analytical, though the image of Hyacinth in the hands of some unknown assailant was fuelling a silent, raging inferno within me. ‘Because that man never approached her and never entered the tower.’Portia was clearly panicking, her thoughts spiralling. ‘Maybe they had someone on the inside! Maybe it’s a coordinated effort, and Cary already has her. I have to call him.’She hung up before I could respond.Noel called back, his voice laced with apology. ‘Sir, I’m sorry to report that the surveillance footage from the relevant period has been… compromised.’I felt a fresh wave of fury, cold and sharp,

With every ounce of strength I had, I lunged forward and smashed my forehead directly into her face.A sickening crunch echoed in the room, followed by Vanessa’s piercing scream.She stumbled back, clutching her nose as blood began pouring between her fingers. ‘You bitch!’ she shrieked, her voice garbled and hysterical. ‘You broke my nose! You filthy whore broke my fucking nose!’The victory was short-lived. Enraged beyond reason, she launched herself at me, her weight slamming me back against the sofa. She straddled me, using her knees to pin my shoulders, and the slaps began again, harder now, punctuated by closed-fist punches that felt like they were cracking bone.This wasn’t just punishment anymore; it was a psychotic, frenzied demolition.I lost count. My face went from burning to completely numb, my mouth filling with the warm, metallic taste of my own blood.I heard her panting, the sound ragged and full of venom. ‘I’m going to kill you,’ she spat, ‘but I’m going to make you wi

I lifted my head.The soft glow from the bedside lamp washed over Hyacinth’s face, and I had been watching her just like that, completely still, the entire night.At some point, I had rested my head beside hers on the pillow, my face buried in the curve of her neck. The tears would not stop falling, soaking into her hair with a quiet, shameful persistence.My choked sobs.My bitter regret.My utter inability to let go.That night, I was no longer the handsome, polished CEO, nor the domineering scion of the Grant family.I was just a man who had broken his promises and lost the woman he loved.I wanted so desperately to turn back time. I would have torn out my own heart and laid it bare in my hands if I thought it would make her believe me, if it would prove that I would never make such a fucking mistake again.But I knew, with a certainty that felt like a death sentence, that we were past that point. There was no going back.The night was long, so long that it allowed every memory of u

I just stared at him.For a solid three seconds, I was certain my ears had given up on me entirely.Was he genuinely standing in my penthouse, fresh from signing our divorce papers, and asking if I’d attend his next wedding? The sheer, unvarnished gall of it was almost a work of art. I had to give him points for sheer, breathtaking nerve.Portia exploded before I could even form a sentence. ‘Are you clinically insane? You want to rub your happy day in her face after your last girlfriend tried to turn her into a human bonfire? You’re a piece of work, Grant. You and Vanessa deserve each other in some specially reserved circle of hell.’‘It’s not Vanessa,’ he muttered.I found my voice, and it came out cold and flat, the way you might read a disappointing weather report. ‘The answer is no.’I realised I genuinely didn’t care who the unfortunate bride was. It was no longer my circus, and he was definitively no longer my monkey. The finality of that thought was like a key turning in a lock.