Semua Bab The Billionaire's Forsaken Wife : Bab 31 - Bab 40

ZYRAN’S POVFive years.One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days of waking up in a cold, empty bed. Five years of staring at the ceiling, haunted by her tears and the guilt that consumed me.I hired the best private investigators. I spent millions tracking dead ends. She vanished like a ghost, leaving behind only a signed divorce paper and my ring.But I never stopped looking. I couldn’t. Without her, I wasn’t a man. I was just dead without her.Then, three days ago, a random European architectural magazine landed on my desk. On the third page, there was a picture of the new Lead Designer for Vance Architecture in Milan.Roosevelt Evans.I didn’t just book a flight, I bought the entire company.I stood at the head of the conference table, my hands pressed flat against the cool surface. My heart was racing, pounding so hard it felt like it would break my ribs.I looked at her.She was just a few feet away from me. She looked powerful and untouchable.But when our eyes met, I sa

ROOSEVELT’S POVThe candlelight flickered across the table, casting shadows over Zyran’s face.My heart raced so fast I thought it might break through my ribs. He had looked into Nixie’s background. He knew she didn't have a child. He was getting closer to my most precious secret.But I wasn’t the terrified, broken woman who ran away from his mansion five years ago. I was a mother. And a mother protecting her child is the most dangerous creature on earth. I slowly reached for my wine glass, took a sip of the red wine, and set it back down on the table."I never said she was Nixie’s daughter, Zyran," I said. My voice was smooth and cold.Zyran’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. "What?""Think back to what I actually said in the conference room," I challenged him, lifting my chin. "I said Nixie was babysitting her. I never said the child belonged to her. She is the daughter of another designer at my firm. Her name is Isabella. She had a family emergency today, so Nixie offered to wat

ROOSEVELT’S POVThe folder slipped from my shaking fingers.It hit the floor with a loud smack, the blueprints scattered across it.I didn't bend down to pick them up. I stumbled backward until my shoulder hit the glass of the office door. I struggled to breathe. I couldn't get enough air into my lungs.Zyran stayed perfectly still, hands casually tucked in his pockets. His dark eyes followed my every movement as I panicked."There is no daughter," I said, my voice quivering. I pressed my hands flat against the glass behind me. "I told you, she belongs to Isabella."Zyran slowly drew his hands from his pockets. He crouched down, his suit stretching across his shoulders, and calmly gathered the scattered blueprints from the floor.He stood up and placed the folder neatly on his desk."Isabella from the design team," Zyran repeated smoothly. He walked around his desk and opened the top drawer. "Isabella Rossi. Thirty-two years old. Unmarried. And according to her medical and tax records

ROOSEVELT’S POVI didn't wait for the elevator, I pushed open the stairway doors and ran down all ten flights of stairs.My heels clicked against the floor. My chest was heaving, and my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold my briefcase. The adrenaline that had kept me strong in Zyran’s office was fading fast.I burst out of the building and practically threw myself into the back of a taxi."Drive," I gasped to the driver, giving him my address. "Please hurry."During the whole ride home, I kept looking over my shoulder out the back window, expecting to see a fleet of cars following the cab. I thought Zyran’s men would try to run me off the road. But the street behind us was clear, he actually kept his word.The taxi screeched to a halt in front of my apartment building. I threw a crumpled bill at the driver and ran inside.I didn't wait for the old elevator, I sprinted up the three flights of stairs, i reached my door, hands trembling violently as I fumbled with my keys. Th

"Ms. Evans? Your two o'clock appointment is here.""Send him in, Bianca," I called out, not looking up from the blueprints spread across my desk."Right this way, sir," Bianca’s voice trembled slightly.I heard the footsteps enter my office. I picked up my pen and finally looked up."Good afternoon, Mr. Thompson. I am—"The words caught in my throat.The man standing in front of my desk looked like he had just stepped off the cover of an Italian Vogue magazine. He was tall, with perfectly styled wavy brown hair, striking hazel eyes, and a sharp navy suit that fit his athletic frame perfectly, he was undeniably handsome.He didn't sit down, he leaned his hands on the edge of my desk and gave me a charming smile."You are Roosevelt," he said. His voice had a smooth Italian tone. "I must admit, your portfolio is impressive, but it completely failed to show how stunning the architect is in person."I blinked, caught off guard by his boldness. I quickly recovered and forced a polite smile.