Lahat ng Kabanata ng A BABY FOR THE BILLIONAIRE : Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

The interrogation room in the sublevel holding facility of our private security headquarters smelled of cold steel, bleach, and stale coffee. Under the harsh, buzzing fluorescent lights, the lead mercenary we had captured—now stripped of his tactical helmet and combat gear—sat handcuffed to a bolted steel table. He had a deep bruise forming along his jawline from where Max’s security team had subdued him in the foyer, but his eyes remained defiant, cold, and entirely blank.The heavy steel door swung open with a hollow *clank*, and Max stepped into the room. He wore a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscle and thick veins of his forearms. He didn’t sit down. He simply walked over to the table, leaning forward slightly, placing both heavy hands on the metal surface. His towering presence filled the small room, casting a long, intimidating shadow over the captive."You’ve been sitting in this chair for three hours refusing to speak," Max

A convoy of three matte-black armored SUVs was already waiting on the tarmac, their engines idling in low, synchronized purrs. A burly, middle-aged security operative in a tailored suit stepped forward as the jet’s rolling staircase lowered, snapping a crisp salute as Max descended first, holding me securely against his side while a trusted nanny carried baby Daisy behind us."Welcome back to Villa Sainte-Claire, Mr. Crane," the operative said in a crisp British accent. "The perimeter is completely secure, and the underground communication relay is fully operational. We’re ready when you are."Max nodded curtly, his eyes scanning the sprawling, stone-fortified estate perched dramatically on the cliffside overlooking the crashing waves of the Mediterranean Sea. "Status on Victor’s financial movements?" Max demanded as we walked toward the lead vehicle."His primary shell corporation in Liechtenstein just transferred forty million euros into an unverified Swiss holding account twenty min

LESLIE’S POV"You cannot go in there alone, Max," I said firmly, throwing the heavy iron latch on the safehouse door to lock us inside.We had landed at a secure, private harbor three miles down the coast from the villa. The safehouse was small, hidden inside an abandoned lighthouse perched high on a dark, desolate cliff. The wind howled furiously against the reinforced glass windows, echoing the storm brewing inside my own chest.Daisy was finally resting quietly on a soft leather couch in the center of the room, tucked under a thick wool blanket, exhausted from the horrific night.Max stood by a wooden table, loading fresh ammunition into a heavy black pistol with cold, methodical precision. The sharp click of the bullets slipping into the magazine sounded like a death sentence filling the room. He didn't look up at me right away."Victor ran back to his primary residence in Monaco," Max said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "His private security network is fractured after the cave fig

LESLIE’S POV"He’s not going to make it off that yacht, Max," I said as our sleek black sports car roared along the winding coastal road leading down toward the Monaco marina.The sun was high in the sky now, lighting up the deep turquoise waters of the Mediterranean Sea and reflecting off hundreds of multi-million-dollar superyachts lined up along the docks. The luxury of the city stood in sharp contrast to the cold-blooded hunt we were conducting.Max held the steering wheel with one hand, his posture relaxed yet completely dangerous. "Victor has nowhere left to sail, Leslie. The maritime police have already been tipped off about his illegal mercenary activities, and his bank accounts are frozen solid. He is a cornered rat.""A cornered rat is always the most dangerous," I reminded him, gripping the dashboard as Max rounded a sharp turn with incredible speed."Not when I own the cage," Max replied smoothly, turning his head to give me a quick, confident wink that made my heart flutt

"You never told me that the west wing of the estate was locked, Max," I said softly, setting my coffee cup down on the heavy marble kitchen island as the morning sunlight streamed through the tall, sparkling windows.Max looked up from the breakfast table where he was buttering a piece of toast, his striking grey eyes flashing with a sudden, unreadable flicker of tension. The relaxed warmth that had filled our home all morning shifted instantly, replaced by a deep, cautious shadow."It’s just an old storage wing, Leslie," Max answered smoothly, though his voice dropped into that guarded tone he always used when a painful memory from his past was getting too close to the surface. "There is nothing in there except old furniture and dust from twenty years ago."I crossed my arms over my light knit sweater, walking over to stand right beside him. I tilted my head, looking down into his handsome face with playful curiosity and quiet affection. "Old furniture doesn't usually require a heavy