I Left Broken and Fat, I Came Back His Boss With Triplets의 모든 챕터: 챕터 111 - 챕터 120

Liam’s POVThe morning sun does not reach the narrow courtyard off Rue de Lille. It casts a cold, pale light across the bare floorboards of my flat, illuminating the dust motes hanging in the drafty air.I haven't slept. My eyes burn with fatigue, my muscles stiff from sitting in the hard wooden chair for ten hours straight. On the desk, my laptop screen remains lit, displaying the global transaction feeds for L.C. Private Capital.A sharp, double knock sounds at the heavy oak door."It's unlocked," I say, my voice dry and low from the cold.Marcus walks into the apartment, carrying a paper cup of black coffee in one hand and his leather briefcase in the other. He sets the coffee on the corner of the desk, taking in the unfurnished room... the unmade mattress on the floor, the two wooden folding chairs, and my wet coat hanging over the window frame."You look exhausted, Liam," Marcus says quietly, pulling up the second folding chair across from me."Did the Geneva wire clear?" I ask,

Liam’s POVI do not sleep the whole night.The fever settles into my chest around four in the morning.It begins as a dull, heavy ache behind my ribs, radiating down into my limbs until my hands shiver against the cold surface of the desk. The hour-long walk back from the sixteenth arrondissement in the freezing rain has taken its toll, but I do not care. Physical illness is a distraction I can easily endure.The bare floorboards of my flat on Rue de Lille are cold beneath my boots. Outside, the Parisian rain has softened into a steady, persistent drizzle that streaks down the uncurtained glass of the casement window.Past noon, a key turns in the brass lock of the heavy oak door.Marcus steps inside, his dark coat damp at the shoulders. He carries a fresh stack of legal confirmations from our Dublin counsel, along with a warm paper cup of tea that he sets on the corner of my desk."Drink it," Marcus says, taking in my pale skin

Emma’s POVThe air inside three thousand square feet of raw, historical retail space smells of carved oak, fresh plaster, and the cool limestone of Boulevard Haussmann.High arched display windows look out onto one of the grandest shopping avenues in Paris. Above us, restored nineteenth-century gilded moldings frame a vaulted ceiling where crystal chandeliers hang wrapped in protective canvas. The floor is a sprawling expanse of polished white marble, dotted with architectural blueprints and fabric swatches."The main runway display will sit right here in the center rotunda, Ms. Bellamy," Marc, my lead retail architect, says. He unrolls a heavy paper schematic across a wooden sawhorses table. "We can house the entire Lyon silk collection under the natural skylight."I trace the outline of the rotunda on the blueprint with my finger. "Make sure the lighting fixtures don't alter the natural tone of the organic dyes, Marc. The eco-silk line needs to look identical under sunlight and even

Emma’s POV

Emma’s POVThe morning after the Haussmann preview, the international press coverage is a unanimous landslide.Le Figaro calls Bellamy Inc. "the new crown jewel of French eco-luxury." The Financial Times publishes a front-page analysis praising our Liechtenstein foundation model and Lyon supply chain, declaring Arthur Carson’s legal maneuvers "a costly, miscalculated failure."Inside my private office at Place Vendôme, the atmosphere is electric. Phone lines are jammed with wholesale inquiries from Tokyo, Milan, and New York.Jean-Luc steps into my office at ten in the morning, holding a fresh stack of confirmed purchase orders. "Ms. Bellamy, our international pre-orders for the spring collection have officially passed eighteen million euros. The Lyon mills are operating three shifts a day to keep up with demand.""Ensure the quality control protocols at the Lyon facilities remain absolute, Jean-Luc," I instruct, signing the master distribution releases. "Speed means nothing if a sing