Все главы THE BILLIONAIRE’S SECOND CHANCE BETRAYAL : Глава 31 - Глава 40

The big black ship let out a noise that tore through everything—a sound like metal shattering, but also pure fear, raw and echoing. The three Architects—the Circle, the Square, and the Triangle—stood frozen, more like statues than people, as if someone had carved them from ice. Out in the garden, the white bone-trees snapped and splintered. The silver grass didn’t even stay solid; it just turned to smoke, gray and soft, and drifted away.June stood right in the middle of this mess, squeezing Leo’s hand so hard her knuckles went white. Beside her, Dante was half-trapped in that white bone, gasping for air. Every breath looked like a fight, his chest barely moving, his throat locked up like stone.Then the man in the apron stepped forward. Honestly, he didn’t look scary at all. He seemed like he belonged in a cozy kitchen somewhere, with the smell of fresh bread and sugar sticking to him. But when he walked past the Architects, they just… disappeared. No resistance, no sound. They crumb

The Market’s white space buzzed—not quiet at all. The sound made June think of millions of people counting money at once, all those low voices stacking up into a hum that filled her ears.She stood in front of a battered wooden table, heart hammering away. Her eyes kept drifting to the glass jar on the shelf behind the Ruby Collector. Inside, Earth floated—just a tiny blue marble, impossibly far from here. She squinted, and for a second she swore she could see the green fields back home, where Dante waited, still clutching the ground, still hoping she’d come back.“The clock’s ticking, Baker,” the Ruby Collector said. His voice? Sharp and cold, like an ice cube clinking in a glass. He kept his face still, but the red stones on his mask pulsed with light. “The Customer’s waiting. If you don’t deliver the bread soon, we’ll smash the jar. We’ll turn the dust of your world into something else.”June stared at her trembling hands. No golden fire now, no magic—just June Avery, the woman who

The radio on the ship didn’t just play a voice. It slipped a smell into the room, too—sweet vanilla, mixed with old wood. June stood completely still. Her hand was still locked to Dante’s by the silver metal. Her fingers shook. The glass walls around them started to hum, a low, cheerful sound. It was the same song her grandmother used to sing while kneading dough back in their tiny kitchen in Nigeria.“Grandma?” June’s voice barely made a sound. “You’re dead. I saw your grave. I watched the flowers die on the dirt.”“Death’s just a timer in the kitchen, June,” the voice answered. It was gentle, but sharp at the edges. “When the timer rings, you don’t disappear. You just move on to the next meal. But we can’t talk about family right now. The Market’s pulling your mother into the Shredder machine as we speak!”The ship jolted. It didn’t wait for Marcus to hit any buttons. The glass floor flashed bright orange. The ground below vanished in a blink.“We’re moving too fast!” Marcus shouted

The bone bread didn’t just sit there. It moved. It breathed.June clutched the note, and the loaf inside the wooden box let out a soft, damp sigh. It didn’t smell sweet—no honey, no flowers. It smelled like the earth after a pounding rain. Deep, ancient, a little unsettling.The Delivery Boy didn’t move a muscle. His eyes, blue like cut gems, stayed wide open. They caught everything—the green field, the sharp morning sun, June’s scared face—splintered into a thousand reflections.“The guests are waiting, June Avery,” the boy said. His voice scratched like glass scraping against glass. “The table is ready. We’re just missing the centerpiece.”“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Dante shot back. He stepped in front of June, fists clenched, every muscle pulled tight. Anger burned in his eyes. “We paid your debt. Leave her alone.”The Delivery Boy cocked his head, considering. “You paid the Auditor, yes. But he’s just a clerk. He counts crumbs. He doesn’t own the grain.”Then the ground un

The sun didn’t set. It shot up, almost yanked into the sky. June just stood there, frozen, watching as the orange glow of evening snapped back into the blinding yellow of noon. The dew didn’t dry—it flew off the grass, straight up into the air.Next to her, Dante’s legs gave out. He staggered, clutching his head. “June? What’s going on? Why are we... why are we back at the hospital gates?”June spun around. No more green fields in Akwa Ibom. Just the dusty road outside her med school. The sharp, chemical smell hit her—car exhaust, too. It was unmistakable. She was standing exactly where she’d been one year ago.“Dante, look at me!” She grabbed his shoulders, fingers digging into his jacket. “Don’t let go of the memories. We fought the Market. We saved the Earth!”But Dante’s eyes—cloudy, lost—kept darting over her face, her hands. “June? You... you look different. Why are you crying? We have exams today. The 3rd MB. We need to go in.”He pulled away, gentle but distant. Like a strange