Todos los capítulos de The Billionaire's Unwritten Promises: Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

"Sean..." I sobbed, the adrenaline completely draining from my body as I pressed my forehead against his chest, smelling the rain and cedarwood on his skin. "Leo... the laser... they were watching my dad...""They're safe," Sean promised fiercely, pressing his lips against my wet forehead, his chest heaving as he pulled out a tactical knife, slicing through the thick zipties binding my wrists in a single swift motion. "David’s team secured your parents' house fifteen minutes ago. Leo is safe. Your family is safe. I've got you, love. I've got you."The moment my hands were free, I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably into his skin. Sean wrapped his massive arms around my waist, pulling me flush against his body, lifting me right off the cold floor and holding me like he would never, ever let go again.Behind us, Aya was dragged to her feet by two security guards, screaming hysterical, incoherent nonsense as police sirens began to wail in th

The iron clad trap around Notting Hill was set with microscopic precision. Sean and Scotland Yard had anticipated Aya’s psychotic trajectory—she didn't want money, and she didn't want an escape route out of the country. Her sickness was entirely consumed by one thing: taking back what she believed belonged to her, live for the world to see.Undercover units were posted in every coffee shop, unmarked van, and alleyway surrounding my parents' townhouse. Inside, the house was a fortress. But to the outside world—and to the dark web streams monitoring the street—the security appeared stretched, chaotic, and vulnerable.We gave her the stage she so desperately craved. And Aya walked straight into the spotlight.At 11:42 PM, during a torrential downpour, a black delivery sedan pulled onto the side street. A figure draped in a wet trench coat slipped through the shadowed side gate of the garden. Aya had used her remaining offshore funds to purchase a high-frequency signal jammer, disabling t

Elena Blue hated the smell of expensive leather.To most people, it smelled like success, luxury, and the American Dream. To Elena, it smelled like the sterile, carpeted waiting room of a corporate high-rise where she had sat at twelve years old, holding her mother’s trembling hand while a man in a five-thousand-dollar suit explained that her father’s death was ‘an unfortunate, self-inflicted liability.’As she pushed through the heavy double doors of St. Jude’s Elementary, the cool afternoon air did nothing to flush the heat of anger from her cheeks.William O’Hore.Even his name sounded like a brand, designed to be stamped on the side of a skyscraper or whispered in exclusive country clubs. He was exactly the brand of arrogant, shiny parasite she had spent her entire adult life avoiding.Elena marched down the hallway, her sneakers squeaking against the freshly waxed linoleum. She threw her clipboard onto her desk in the empty classroom, the loud clack echoing off the brightly color

An hour later, William was idling at a congested intersection three blocks from St. Jude’s. He was driving his most "understated" vehicle—a sleek, midnight-blue sedan that only cost as much as a small suburban house.Tap. Tap.William looked over. A street vendor was weaving through the stopped traffic, holding a bucket of cheap, tacky plastic roses wrapped in crinkly cellophane. They were the kind of fake flowers that had never seen a real garden, boasting a shade of neon red that didn't exist in nature, complete with hot-glued plastic dewdrop beads on the petals.It was, without a doubt, the ugliest thing William had ever seen.But then, Elena’s words echoed in his head: “You really don't know how to do this without a price tag, do you?”A sudden, wicked impulse took hold of him. He rolled down his window. "How much for one?""Three dollars, mister," the vendor said.William reached into his leather wallet. He had nothing smaller than a hundred-dollar bill. He handed it over. "Keep

Elena let out a short, humorless breath. "I’m perfectly fine. I’m just doing my job. And I’d appreciate it if we kept our interactions strictly professional from now on. You drop Leo off, I take him in. That’s the extent of our relationship."The sudden, icy rejection hit William like a physical slap. His chest tightened. "Where is this coming from? Yesterday, we were—""Yesterday, I made the mistake of treating you like a regular person," Elena said, her voice dropping to a fierce, quiet whisper so the passing parents wouldn't hear. She stepped closer, but there was no warmth in the proximity, only raw, defensive anger. "But I did a little reading last night, Mr. O'Hore. Or rather, I watched the news."William’s stomach did a slow, heavy drop. The news."Monaco," Elena continued, her eyes flashing with deep disgust. "A yacht. A French supermodel. And Julianne Vance, a woman with actual talent and dignity, whom you discarded like last season's fashion trend. You’re a playboy, William