Semua Bab Bound to the Billionaire : Bab 11 - Bab 20

The night was not a time for sleep; it was a time for ghosts. I had spent the last eight hours sitting on the edge of the bed, the silence of the penthouse pressing against my eardrums until they hummed. Every time I closed my eyes, the sound of Elias’s voice from the office echoed in the back of my mind—“She must never know.”The debt was a lie. My father’s bankruptcy was a stage set. I wasn't a wife; I was a secret. I was a target being hidden behind a wall of arrogance and control.By the time the sky began to bleed into a bruised, pre-dawn purple, I had stopped shaking. My fear had been replaced by a cold, hard clarity that felt like swallowing ice. I didn’t wash my face or attempt to compose myself. I didn't care how I looked. I just needed him to look at me and tell me the truth, or tell me the lie that would finally force me to break his world apart.I walked to the office. This time, I didn't creep. I didn't hide in the shadows. I walked with the heavy, rhythmic tread of someon

The alleyway was no longer a path to freedom; it was a throat, and it was closing in on me. The man with the flint-colored eyes took a single, slow step forward, his polished shoe splashing into a puddle of stagnant rainwater. Beside him, one of his associates clicked the safety off a pistol—a sharp, metallic snap that seemed to reverberate against the brick walls of the city.I was paralyzed, the cold air biting into my skin, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had been so desperate to leave the cage that I hadn't realized I was the only thing standing between the predator and his prey.Then, the world erupted.From the darkness of the loading dock, a blinding strobe of white light tore through the alley, momentarily searing the retinas of the men standing before me. Before they could recover, the screech of tires on wet pavement filled the air. A black SUV, moving with the precision of a predator, skidded around the corner, mounting the curb and slamming into the

I sat on the edge of the master bed, the wood of the floor feeling unnaturally cold against my bare feet. The house was silent again, the kind of silence that feels heavy with unspoken things. Downstairs, the front door had clicked shut nearly an hour ago. Vivian was gone, but the air in the lodge still tasted of her perfume—something floral, expensive, and suffocating.I waited for Elias. I waited for him to come up the stairs, to offer one of his cold, clinical explanations, or perhaps to offer nothing at all. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to see if the man who had looked at me in the alleyway with such raw, unvarnished urgency was the same man who had leaned into Vivian’s kiss.He never came.Instead, I heard the faint, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the occasional groan of the lodge’s timber as it settled into the night. It was a cruel irony; I was supposed to be the one hiding, the one who couldn't be found, yet I felt more exposed than I ever had

The days following the press conference were not a respite; they were a fever dream of luxury and dread. I lived within the penthouse like a bird in a glass cage, every corner of which was reinforced by Elias’s invisible army of security. My life had been reduced to carefully curated appearances, designer gowns, and the deafening silence of a man who spoke to me only in instructions.I was beginning to realize that the danger wasn't just lurking in the shadows outside; it was embedded in the very walls of my existence.It started with the phone—not the one Elias had given me, but the old, discarded handset I had kept tucked away in the back of my vanity drawer, the one that held no digital footprint in his world. It buzzed against the marble top, a vibration so violent it sent a shiver of pure adrenaline down my spine.I didn't answer. I just watched it. The screen lit up in the darkened room, a beacon of intrusion. When the vibration ceased, I cautiously reached for it.There was a s

The darkness in the penthouse was absolute, a heavy, suffocating blanket that seemed to absorb the very oxygen from the room. My hand was still locked in Elias’s, his grip so tight it felt as though he were trying to anchor me to the earth. In the silence, I could hear the faint, rhythmic sound of boots on marble—not the shuffling of our own staff, but the methodical, synchronized footsteps of intruders who knew exactly where they were going."Get behind the desk," Elias commanded, his voice a low, raspy strike in the gloom. He didn't wait for a reply; he shoved me toward the heavy mahogany furniture, his movements fluid and frantic.I scrambled into the corner, my lungs burning, the secret files still scattered across the desk like a confession of my own undoing. I watched as Elias stepped into the center of the office, his silhouette framed by the faint, ambient moonlight leaking through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He looked like a statue of vengeance—taut, ready, and utterly leth