Lahat ng Kabanata ng Signed, Sealed, I’m Rich: The Rejected Luna’s Multi-Billion : Kabanata 361 - Kabanata 370

Salome POV"Get away from me!" I shouted into the dark.My voice echoed off the cold brick walls of the empty alleyway.Nobody answered.My fingers dug deeper into the pocket of my coat.I was searching for the small metal canister.The plastic nozzle of my pepper spray was completely gone.My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird.I stopped dead under the flickering light of a broken streetlamp.A dark shadow moved near the corner of the pavement."I have a knife!" I lied.My voice cracked on the very last word.The shadow did not move.It remained perfectly still against the dark brick of the building.My boots scraped against the wet tarmac as I took a step back.My heel hit the stone kerb.I stumbled.The plastic shopping bags in my left hand rattled loudly in the quiet night."You are five minutes late, Salome," a deep voice said from the darkness.The heavy tension in my chest snapped instantly.The shadow stepped forward into the pale yellow light.Jeremiah.His arms

Salome POV"You think you can just run from your own mother, Jeremiah?"I grip the cold leather of the car seat. The park outside is pitch black. The shadows from the trees look like teeth against the glass."She makes her own choices, Salome," Jeremiah says. His voice is flat. Dead. "If she helps Rita, she deals with the consequences.""She is your blood.""She is a woman who grew up rich and married into more wealth." He turns the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, cutting through the silence of the dark lane. "She has never had a real job. She does not understand consequences. She thinks she can just throw money at this.""You are throwing your family away. For me.""I am keeping you alive."He shifts the car into drive. His jaw is so tight a vein pulses near his ear.I stare at his profile. My stomach drops straight into my boots.That look. That hard, burning stare.It reminds me of Barnabas.My skin goes cold. My ex-husband used to look at me like that right before he

Salome POV"Stay exactly where you are," Jeremiah murmured, his voice scraping deep against my collarbone.His weight pressed me flat into the leather seat.My breath caught in my throat.The heat of his skin burned through the damp air inside the stationary car."The windows are fogging up," I whispered."Let them."He did not move.His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my waist, locking me down.The engine ticked beneath the bonnet, cooling down in the dark."Jeremiah, someone will see us," I said."No one is out here at midnight."He shifted his hips, his bare chest dragging against mine.Every muscle in his torso was rigid."You promised we would only stop for a minute," I said."I lied."He pulled back just enough to look down at me.The moonlight cut through the windscreen, throwing sharp shadows across his jaw."You always lie when it suits you," I said."Only when it gets me what I want."His thumb brushed against my lower lip, pressing hard until my mouth opened slightly.I b

Salome POV“Do you think that is the best idea, sweetheart?”My mother set her newspaper down. The paper made a sharp slap against the dark wood of the dining table. Her eyes locked onto mine. They were heavy, cold, and entirely too observant.The bite of scrambled egg in my mouth instantly lost all flavour. It felt like dry sawdust.I forced myself to swallow. The lump scraped down my throat. I lowered my fork. It clicked against the porcelain plate.She knew. They both knew.When my parents visited my house last week, they saw the way Jeremiah looked at me. They felt the heat in the room. They noticed every single piece of toxic chemistry between my billionaire boss and me. Now, the trap was closing. They wanted me to quit.But I was already in too deep.I had slept with Jeremiah. Not once. Not twice. Multiple times. My life was spinning completely out of control, like a top whipped too hard. I wanted to scream the truth at them. I wanted to bleed it all out.But I did not dare.My p

Salome POV“Drink your tea before it gets cold, Stanley.”My voice shakes. I grip the handle of the kettle until my knuckles turn white.Stanley does not look at the mug. He looks at me. His eyes are small, dark, and perfectly still.“You look more like her every time I see you, Salome,” he says.The words cut right through the quiet kitchen.My heart hits my ribs like a trapped bird. Her. He means Portia. He means his late wife. He means the lunatic currently rotting in a prison cell, the woman whose face haunts my nightmares.“Freyburgh is a long drive from the city,” I say, backing away until the edge of the marble counter digs into my lower back. “You must be tired.”“I am never too tired for family,” Stanley murmurs. He lifts the mug. The porcelain clicks against his wedding ring.My mother, Penelope, steps into the kitchen footprint. Her heels snap against the linoleum like gunshots. Her face is a mask of heavy foundation and tight skin, but I can see the pulse jumping in her nec