Hiding The Devil Billionaire's Daughter のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

Leaving for GoodSERAPHINA "SERA" MORTEZ'S POINT OF VIEW "Are you sure about this?" Ace asked as we pushed through the trees, putting distance between us and the smoldering mansion. I was still gasping for breath, blood dried dark on my dress, when he slipped off his leather vest and held it out to me. "Wear this," he said sharply. "You look like you've been in a fight-people will stare." I managed a small, shaky smile in response, pulling the vest over my shoulders. It was warm from his body, heavy with the scent of leather and smoke. I ran my fingers through my hair, then paused. My vision was clearing faster than I'd dared hope-where everything had been a blur just hours ago, I could now make out the sharp line of his jaw, the way light caught on his striking mismatched eyes. One brown, one blue-like nothing I'd ever seen. "Lucian will be furious," he said, his voice cold as we walked. "Are you certain about this choice, Sera? Once

Unto FutureSERAPHINA "SERA" MORTEZ'S POINT OF VIEW "Good evening-ma'am? Are you alright?!" The woman behind the inn's front desk was staring at me, her brow furrowed with worry. I'd just stepped inside, Ace's leather vest still heavy on my shoulders, smelling of smoke and pine from the woods. I'd followed his directions exactly-this was where we were supposed to meet. My gaze drifted down to my dress, dark stains flecked across the fabric. "I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile. But the way she kept glancing at my clothes told me she didn't believe it. I let it go. "I'd like to book a room... walk-in," I added, feeling heat creep up my neck. I'd never done this before-never walked into a place like this alone to ask for a room. It made my hands shake where I clutched Ace's wallet. She softened, her smile warm. "What name will you be using? Come closer, please-I can barely see you from here." I moved to the counter, s

The Time Skip SERAPHINA "SERA" MORTEZ'S POINT OF VIEW "Mom! Hungry! Hungry!" "Mom! We're hungry-and we missed you!" The cries yank me from sleep-high-pitched, urgent, right at my ear. A small, warm weight bounces against my hips; another presses into my shoulder, breath soft and sweet against my cheek. I groan, stretching until muscles protest, soreness pulling at my back and thighs from the night before-memories that still make my skin prickle when I let them surface. When I open my eyes, Leo and Rio fill my vision. Leo's face splits into a grin so wide it carves dimples deep into his cheeks; Rio's lower lip trembles, eyes glossy with unshed tears. A smile softens my mouth before I can stop it-warmth blooms in my chest, chasing away exhaustion like sun burning off morning mist. They chatter over each other, words tumbling out too fast to follow, but I pull t

Decision SERAPHINA "SERA" MORTEZ'S POINT OF VIEW "Mommy, who was that woman?" Leo's voice cuts through the tricycle's rattle as we climb in, his small body pressed close to mine. Rio's head lolls against my chest, already asleep-he burned through every last drop of energy chasing kids at the playground, while his brother runs on a different kind of fire entirely. Leo's always been the spark; Rio, the quiet at its center. "I don't know her, baby, must have confused me with someone else." I smile, ruffling his dark hair, and the words feel worn smooth by use. Then, almost without thinking: "Hey... would you be okay if we found a new place to live?" My breath catches the second they leave my mouth. I look down to find him already staring back, studying my face like he's trying to map every line, every flicker of fear. God, the way he looks at me... you'd never guess he's only four. Everything he does feels delib

Is This Really Destiny? SERAPHINA "Sera" MORTEZ'S POINT OF VIEW "Good morning, Coto." The words ride on air cool enough to prickle my skin, the sun just a thin gold line over the hills. The river hums beside our house-steady, clear, sliding over stones like silk. Birds thread their songs through the branches above, and a rooster's crow cuts clean through the quiet, marking the world awake. I lean against the door frame, stretching until my shoulders crack. My favorite wooden chair waits on the porch, worn smooth by years of my weight. In one hand, a chipped mug of coffee bitter enough to ground me; in the other, a plastic bag warm with fresh rolls, their yeast scent mixing with damp earth and river mist. Lucian. The name settles in my mouth like a stone I've carried for seven years. Auntie Mercing used to say fate doesn't chase-it waits. That someday, what we run from finds its way back. I'd told her she was too old for sto