บททั้งหมดของ Billionaire's Runaway Bride & His Secret Triplets : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

We drove through the night.Lily slept in the back seat, her head on Martha's shoulder. Alexander stared out the window, his jaw tight, his hands clenched."What are you thinking about?" I asked."How to kill him.""Alexander —""I'm not going to. I know that." He turned to look at me. "But I want to. God help me, I want to.""That makes you human.""It makes me him.""No." I reached over and took his hand. "He kills because he enjoys it. You'd kill to protect the people you love. That's not the same thing.""Isn't it?""Intent matters.""Tell that to the families of the people I've hurt."The road stretched ahead of us. Dark. Empty. Endless."You're not a monster, Alexander.""I'm not a good man either.""You're trying to be.""Trying isn't the same as succeeding."I squeezed his hand."Then try harder," I said. "For them."I placed his hand on my belly.Three heartbeats.Three reasons to be better.He was quiet for a long time.Then he said, "I'm scared."I looked at him.His eyes w

The medical wing smelled like death.Disinfectant. Decay. Desperation. I walked down the corridor, my hands on my belly, my eyes on the doors. Somewhere behind them, Henry was waiting."Isabella." His voice came from everywhere and nowhere. "So good of you to finally join us."I stopped.A door opened to my left.Henry sat in a wheelchair, surrounded by machines that beeped and whirred and kept him alive. His skin was yellow. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands trembled on the armrests.But his smile — his smile was the same.Cold. Cruel. Triumphant."You look just like her," he said."My mother?""Eleanor. Before the sickness took her." He tilted his head. "She was beautiful too. Right up until the end.""Did you kill her?""I gave her the freedom to die.""You poisoned her.""I gave her peace." His voice sharpened. "She was suffering, Isabella. In pain. Begging for release. I simply... accelerated the process.""You're a monster.""I'm a father." He gestured to the room around him. "

The next few weeks were quiet.Alexander went to therapy. Martha learned to smile again. Lily gained weight. The triplets grew.And then — on a Tuesday, in the middle of the night — my water broke.I woke up soaked. Confused. Terrified."Alexander."He was awake instantly. "What? What's wrong?""The babies. They're coming."He stared at me. Then at the wet sheets. Then back at me."Now?""Now."He didn't panic. Didn't freeze. Didn't ask questions.He just moved.---The hospital was ready.Dr. Ellis had arranged everything — a private wing, trusted nurses, security at every door.Alexander held my hand as they wheeled me in."You're going to be fine," he said."You don't know that.""I know that you're the strongest person I've ever met.""Flattery won't help.""It's not flattery. It's the truth."I squeezed his hand."Don't leave me.""Never."---The contractions came faster than I expected.Harder. Closer.Dr. Ellis checked my progress."Baby A is ready," she said. "Baby B and Baby

We found Martha's car at the edge of the woods. The engine was still running. The door was open. And on the driver's seat, a single yellow lily. "She went willingly," Alexander said. "But that doesn't mean she went alone." I picked up the lily. There was a note tied to the stem. "Follow the flowers. Don't bring the police. Don't bring anyone. Come alone, or Lily dies." "It's a trap," I said. "Of course it's a trap." "We can't walk into it." "We have to." "Alexander —" "She's my mother." His voice cracked. "Martha. She's the closest thing I've ever had to a mother. I'm not letting her die." "And Lily?" "She's my sister. Our sister." He looked at me. "I'm not letting her die either." "Then we go together." "No." "Alexander." "If something happens to me, the babies need you. Our babies. Eleanor, Henry Jr., Nora." He placed his hand on my belly — flat now, empty, but still healing. "They need their mother." "They need their father too." "Then I'll come

The paramedics worked on Henry for twenty minutes. They couldn't save him. Didn't want to save him. He was gone. "It's over," Alexander said. But even as he spoke, I saw something in his eyes. Something I couldn't name. "Alexander?" He didn't answer. He just walked toward his father's body. Stood over it. Stared at the face that had haunted him for three decades. "You're free," he whispered. Henry didn't respond. He couldn't. He was dead. "Alexander." I touched his arm. "Come away." "In a minute." "Alexander —" "In a minute." I waited. The courtroom emptied. The cameras left. The paramedics covered Henry's body with a sheet. And still, Alexander stood there. "I wanted to hate him," he said finally. "I wanted to watch him suffer. I wanted him to beg for mercy the way my mother begged for mercy." "But he didn't." "He took the easy way out." Alexander's voice cracked. "He always took the easy way out. And I'm left here. With all this anger. All this grief. All this