Semua Bab The Billionaire’s Substitute Bride: Bab 51 - Bab 60

The jet touched down just after midnight, the runway lights slicing through the dark like accusations. Marcus didn’t wait for the stairs to fully lower. He was on the tarmac before the engines fully spooled down, duffel slung over one shoulder, phone already pressed to his ear. No answer from his sister. The drive from the private airstrip to the modest two story house on the edge of the suburbs felt endless, even though he made it in under twenty minutes, tires screeching on the quiet streets. Every red light was a personal insult. His mind kept looping back to that cut off call, the raw panic in her voice.The house looked the same as always, faded blue shutters, the porch light buzzing with moths. But the second he killed the engine, the front door flew open. His sister, Lena, stood there in an old sweatshirt and leggings, hair pulled into a messy ponytail, eyes wide and exhausted. She didn’t say a word, just grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door quickly behind t

Two weeks later, after another stretch of quiet mornings in the garden and evenings filled with tentative conversations, Marcus made the call. Ella needed more than the safety of the house and the small backyard garden they had cultivated together. She needed the world, even if just small, manageable pieces of it at first. The walls, no matter how comforting, were starting to feel like another kind of cage.“Clothes that actually fit her,” he told Lena over coffee that morning, keeping his voice low so Ella wouldn’t overhear from upstairs. “Stuff that feels like hers, not borrowed. We’ll keep it low-key. No big crowds, nothing flashy.”Lena raised an eyebrow but smiled warmly. “About time. She’s been ready. Just make sure she feels in control of it.”Ella’s eyes lit up like the first real spark of dawn when Marcus suggested the outing after breakfast. Nervous energy danced across her face, but excitement won out. She’d been wearing Lena’s hand-me-downs and oversized shirts long enough

The confession happened the next morning in the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the windows in warm golden shafts that made the wooden floors glow. Marcus stood at the counter pouring coffee from the old pot, the rich aroma filling the air and mixing with the scent of toast Lena had made earlier. Ella stood close by, nerves visible in the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater and her weight shifted from one foot to the other. She had barely slept after their night under the stars, the memory of his lips lingering like a promise.Marcus set the mug down carefully and turned to face her fully, his usual guarded expression softened by the morning light. “I like you, Ella,” he said simply, the words steady but carrying the weight of everything he’d held back. “More than as someone I’m protecting. Have for a while now. Didn’t want to push while you’re figuring shit out, but... there it is. No pressure. Just the truth.”Her eyes shone with unshed tears of relief and joy,

The morning light in the Blackwood penthouse felt sharper than usual, slicing through the tall windows and casting long shadows across the marble floors. Adrian stood in his study, hands braced on the heavy oak desk, staring at the tablet screen like it had personally betrayed him. The report glowed there in stark black and white, lines of genetic code and probability percentages that didn’t make any sense—except they did. Perfect, damning sense.Marcus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed tight over his chest, the same unease from last night still churning in his gut. He hadn’t slept much either. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ella’s face—her tentative smiles, the way she traced patterns in the dirt back at Lena’s garden like it was the only thing anchoring her. Now this.“Run it again,” Adrian said, voice low and rough, the kind he used when deals were about to go south.The technician on the video call shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve run it three times, sir. Cross-refere

Adrian Blackwood wasn’t a man who was often caught off guard. In the cutthroat world he’d built and defended for years, surprises usually came with warnings—rumors on the street, whispers from informants, or the cold click of a safety being flicked off in a dark alley. But this? This hit like a freight train in the dead of night.He stood alone in the study long after the others had gone to bed, the city lights twinkling mockingly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The DNA report still glowed on the screen, those damning percentages refusing to change no matter how many times he refreshed the page. Ninety-nine point eight percent. Sister. Liviana. The little girl with the red coat and the bright laugh who had been ripped from their lives twenty years ago.His hands clenched into fists at his sides. The truth had been sitting in his penthouse for weeks, eating pancakes with Aria, planting flowers with Marcus’s sister, leaning into Marcus like he was the only solid thing in her world.