Semua Bab Silenced By The Billionaire : Bab 41 - Bab 50

POV: DanteThe studio floor was slick with blood.Three bodies lay sprawled in unnatural angles, their tactical gear soaked dark beneath the sterile artificial lights. Broken glass from the shattered studio lamp glittered across the concrete floor like ice shards, reflecting flashes of red emergency lighting that pulsed faintly from the corridor outside. The smell of gunpowder and copper hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of the underground ventilation system.I stood in the center of the carnage, chest heaving, gun still warm in my hand.Elara was behind me, breathing hard, her hands stained with blood from the fabric shears she had used to fight back. A strand of chestnut hair had come loose from her ponytail and clung to her damp cheek. Her wide hazel-green eyes moved shakily between the dead men on the floor and me.She was unharmed.But the sight of her standing in the middle of this violence made something dark and vicious twist inside my chest.This wasn’t sup

POV: Dante The penthouse felt unfamiliar after weeks underground. The moment the elevator doors slid open, cold air rushed toward us. Rain battered the massive glass windows overlooking Aether City, lightning flashing across the skyline in sharp white streaks. The polished black floors reflected the storm outside, and the entire place felt too open after the suffocating bunker. From the cold concrete tomb of the underground safe house to this isolated glass tower high above the city, the contrast was jarring. The air smelled of rain and expensive leather instead of damp metal and fear. Elara stepped out beside me slowly, still trembling from the gun battle. Her clothes were torn and stained with blood and rain. Wet strands of chestnut hair clung to her neck and shoulders, and a shallow cut marked her cheek from shattered glass. Bruises were already darkening beneath her clothes. She looked like a survivor who had walked through hell and somehow made it out alive. Seeing those br

POV: ElaraFor the past three weeks, the penthouse had stopped feeling like a gilded cage and started feeling like a studio.True to his word, Dante had returned every single one of my sketchbooks, my specialized shears, and the rolls of silk and heavy wool I thought I’d never see again. The guards no longer shadowed my steps from the kitchen to the living room. I had been given room to breathe, room to create, and for a while, I almost managed to convince myself that a normal life was possible within these glass walls.But in Dante Moretti’s world, peace is always a borrowed luxury.It was past two in the morning when the heavy rain started rattling against the glass, blurring the neon lights of Aether City into streaks of red and gold. I was curled on the oversized sofa, a charcoal pencil staining my fingers as I finalized a draping pattern, completely lost in the quiet rhythm of my own mind.Then, the private elevator chimed.I didn't look up at first, expecting Dante's usual hea

POV: ElaraThe tension in the room didn’t dissipate when the elevator doors finally closed, swallowing Natalia and the little boy. Instead, the silence turned thick, heavy, and suffocating.Dante stood entirely still for a long moment, his back still a rigid wall of muscle beneath his silk robe. His breathing was heavy, the sharp rise and fall of his shoulders the only indicator of the storm raging inside him.I didn't wait for him to turn around. I didn't give him the chance to compose himself, to build his walls back up, or to craft a carefully worded explanation.“Who is she?”My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the quiet penthouse like a razor blade.Dante flinched slightly before he finally turned to face me. The defensive rage that had consumed him moments ago was gone, replaced by a raw, uncharacteristic panic. His steel-gray eyes, the exact same eyes that had just shattered my world were wide as he looked at me. He took a step forward, reaching his hands out toward me. “E

POV: ElaraI stared at the device in my palm for almost an hour before finally leaving the studio.It was smaller than a coin. Matte black. Thin enough to disappear beneath fabric lining without anyone noticing unless they knew exactly where to look. I had carefully cut it out of the jacket after Natalia left, resewing the seam afterward so no one would realize it had been removed.My hands still shook.The hallway outside the studio was quiet as I made my way toward the strategy room. The penthouse felt tense again, like the walls themselves were listening. Security had doubled after the attack on the convoy, but none of it mattered if Isabella already had eyes inside the building.And somehow, she always did.The strategy room doors were partially open when I approached.Dante stood at the center table surrounded by surveillance photos, maps, and digital layouts projected across several screens. He looked exhausted. His black dress shirt was rolled up to his forearms, exposing tense