Todos los capítulos de Reborn as the True Billionaire : Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

Morana’s POVThe villa was quiet when I stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing around me as I moved into the bedroom. The silk robe felt cool against my still damp skin, the fabric did little to cover the warmth spreading through my body.Tristan was in bed. Propped against the pillows with a tablet in his hands, the screen casting a blue glow across his face. He looked up as I approached, his eyes tracking my movements across the room."Finished drowning yourself?" He asked setting the tablet aside on the nightstand. I love when he does that. "Needed to wash off the day," I replied stopping beside the bed. "All that relaxation can be exhausting."A ghost smile touched his lips. "A terrible burden to bear."I stood there for a moment just watching him. The way the moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and dark stubble on his jaw. Something shifted between us, the air growing thick with unspoken words."Come here” he said, his v

Morana’s POVWe went into town on day four because I needed actual sunscreen and Tristan needed coffee that wasn’t from the villa. Four days of cliffside luxury made you crave the feeling of walking on actual pavement among actual people doing actual things.Positano in the morning was something between a painting and a fever dream. The buildings stacked up the hillside in pinks and yellows and whites and the streets were narrow and cobbled and full of tourists moving slowly. Shop owners setting out displays witj the smell of something baking somewhere that I couldn’t identify but wanted immediately.I wore linen wide leg trousers in white and a simple top and flat sandals because the cobblestones were not a heels situation regardless of what my instincts said. Sunglasses with my hair down. The most anonymous I could reasonably look which wasn’t very anonymous given who I was with. Tristan in linen was a different problem entirely. He’d somehow found a white shirt that made him look

Morana’s POVThe villa packed up faster than it should have. Five days of pretending the real world didn’t exist and suddenly the real world was in the car waiting.I took one last photograph from the terrace before we left. The pool. The water beyond it. The lemon trees doing their thing in the morning light. Posted it with a single word.Goodbye.The comments were immediate and dramatic in the way the internet was dramatic about everything.-she said goodbye like she’s leaving a person not a location-morana mortaine and italy had a situationship and she just ended it-the way i felt that goodbye personallyI put my phone in my bag and didn’t look at it again until we were airborne. The private terminal on the Italian side was smaller than JFK but operated on the same principle. No lines or announcements. Just efficiency dressed up in good furniture.Someone photographed us leaving the villa. Then again at the terminal. By the time we boarded the photos were already circulating with

Tristan’s POVMy press conference was at Rothschild headquarters. The floor-to-ceiling windows were behind me showing Manhattan because context mattered.The room was full and way more than I’d expected. Financial journalists. Industry publications. Three television cameras I hadn’t requested but had anticipated. People who’d been covering Rothschild Pharma for years and people who’d never covered us before today but were here because Xavier Lancaster had attached our name to a headline.I stood at the front without a podium because podiums created distance and I didn’t need distance. I needed them to hear me clearly. I didn’t have notes.Reid had offered to prepare talking points and I’d declined because talking points were for people who needed reminding of what they believed. I didn’t need reminding.The room settled as cameras focused. I looked at the room for exactly three seconds before speaking. Long enough that everyone understood I wasn’t rushing. “Rothschild Pharma has oper

Tristan’s POVSaturday arrived with no agenda and I didn’t know what to do with that. No board meetings or Reid appearing with updates or case files requiring immediate decisions. No Xavier doing something that required a counter move. Just the penthouse and grey morning light and Morana’s alarm going off at eight which she ignored for twenty minutes. And then she got up anyway because she was constitutionally incapable of sleeping past a certain point regardless of how late she’d been up.I was already at the island with coffee when she appeared from the bedroom in the oversized shirt she’d been systematically stealing from my wardrobe. Her hair doing something that suggested she’d tried to put it up and changed her mind halfway. “I want to cook something” she said.“Okay.”“Something that takes time. With actual steps.”“The kitchen is there.” I pointed, hiding back a smile.She moved into it like she owned it which she increasingly did. Within fifteen minutes there was flour on