บททั้งหมดของ UNDESERVED ROMANCE WITH MR. BILLIONAIRE: บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

POV: OmaI was in the nursery, the afternoon sun slanting through the blinds in dusty golden bars. I was folding Maya’s clothes, tiny, soft cotton onesies and socks no bigger than my thumb, and placing them into neat piles.Then, my phone began to vibrate on the nightstand.I stopped mid-fold, a pink striped sleeve gripped in my hand. I stared at the screen. The name flashing there felt like a ghost appearing in broad daylight. Dad.I didn’t pick up immediately. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the phone dance against the wood. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. In my world, a call from my father was never just a call. It was a summons, a critique, or a storm warning. I let it ring twice, the tension in my neck tightening until it was a dull ache. Finally, on the third ring, I picked it up."Yes, Dad. Good afternoon," I said, my voice sounding thinner than I intended."Oma?" he said, and despite everything, a primal part of me recoiled and reached out simultaneo

(Ned’s POV)Usually, the discharge papers would have been signed in the afternoon, but today it was done by nine o'clock. I had pressured the nursing staff since dawn, my impatience acting as a more effective stimulant than the bitter hospital coffee.Dr. Mensah explained carefully and thoroughly how to take care after discharge. He was a man of precision. He spoke of wound care, the necessity of keeping the incision site dry, and the specific cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers I was to maintain. I received all this information with a nod, though my mind was already several miles down the road. My injuries would be checked every third day and I would have complete rest for at least two weeks.The doctor made appropriate gestures, a hand on the shoulder, a stern look over his spectacles to emphasize the "rest" part of his orders. However, his thoughts were far away from the building, likely already pivoting to his next surgery or the mountain of paperwork on his desk. We were both

(POV Oma).The cab stopped outside the house at ten past two. I settled in the back seat for a second, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs that contrasted sharply with the stillness of the afternoon. I unlatched the door, my movements stiff and robotic.The house was exactly as it always had been. It stood as a monument to a childhood that felt like a lifetime ago, with the same cream walls now slightly weathered by the seasons, and the same vibrant flowers curling up the iron gate like tangled memories. As I stepped out, my feet found the familiar, uneven third step on the porch, a trip hazard I’d navigated a thousand times.Maya was asleep and content, resting in the crook of my arm. She was calmly taking everything in through the veil of her dreams, looking very much at home in a place she had never been.I kissed the top of her head, inhaling that sweet, milky scent that usually grounded me. I grabbed my bag and went up the path, my eyes searching the windows for a

(Ned's Pov)The cold night air bit through the bandages around my ribs as I shuffled across the wet ground. Each step felt like a dull blade scraping along my side, a rhythmic reminder of the price I’d paid to get this far. I stayed low, making my way through the thick shadows of the ancient oaks that encircled the Jones estate. From a distance, I stared at the front gate, a towering iron barrier that looked more like the entrance to a mausoleum than a family home.One of the guards, a man named Nobert who had seen me trailing after Richard for years, stepped out of the cubicle. He recognized me instantly."I need to see Mrs. Jones," I told him, fighting to keep my voice level despite the burning sensation in my chest. "It’s urgent business regarding the firm.""Please," I added, the word tasting like ash.Nobert didn't even look at his clipboard. He knew my face; I was part of the furniture in Richard’s world. He just nodded and buzzed the tiny side gate open. "Make it quick, Ned. Sh

(POV: Richard)The knock came at half past eight.I was sitting on the edge of the bed fully dressed, staring at the carpet. I had been dressed since morning, not because I had anywhere to go, but because putting on clothes felt like the only decision in this house that still belonged to me.Two of my mother's security guards opened the door."Sir," the taller one said. "There is a visitor downstairs."I looked up at him. "Who?"They looked at each other briefly."Who is it?" I asked again."You should come down now sir."I looked at them for a long moment. Then I stood up and we all went downstairs.---I heard Ned's voice before I saw him.I was halfway down the stairs when I heard his voice. I stopped on the step and held the banister.Then I kept walking.Ned was standing in the centre of the sitting room with his jacket on and his hands in his pockets. My mother was beside him, like she was managing the conversation."He has been resting," she was saying smoothly. "He really shou