All Chapters of Trapped by the Ruthless Tycoon: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sunny The morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of Apartment 3B was a sickly, pale gray, but inside my chest, the darkness was absolute.Ever since I had stumbled out of that private clinic six blocks away, the world felt like it was spinning on a razor’s edge. Six weeks pregnant. The doctor’s words echoed in my mind like a rhythmic, deafening heartbeat, drowning out the ambient hum of the city traffic down on 4th Street. Six weeks meant the timeline belonged entirely to the island. It belonged to the high-security master suite, the violent sea storm, the dark terrace, and the possessive, intoxicating nightmare of Roman Sterling.I sat on the edge of my bed, my legs trembling so violently that my knees knocked together under my jeans. My palm rested flat over my lower stomach—over a secret that carried the weight of a death sentence.If Roman found out I was carrying his child, my fragile illusion of freedom would shatter in an instant. He wouldn't just knock on my door;

SunnyThe ride back to my neighborhood in Zane’s heavy armored sedan was wrapped in a thick, suffocating silence. He had driven three miles in circles through the industrial districts, his eyes constantly checking the side mirrors for tailing vehicles before finally pulling into an unlit alley two blocks from my building.Zane had gathered every spilled vitamin tablet and pregnancy test box, pressing them back into my torn coat pocket. Before I stepped out into the freezing night, his fingers locked tight around my wrist. His dark eyes bore into mine, stripped of his usual mocking charm, replaced by a fierce, protective steel."If you see those vans again, or if Roman tries to force his way past your door, you press speed-dial one on that phone," Zane had warned, his voice low and uncompromising. "Do not fight them alone, Sunny. You're carrying a target on your back now."I had nodded numbly, slipping out into the fog like a ghost.Now, as I turned the key in the lock my Apartment ,

SunnyI tell myself that the meeting will give us a chance to talk face-to-face. If I can make him understand that whatever is happening with Roman is not a choice I’ve made, perhaps we can find our way back to each other.I change into a simple dark dress and pull my hair back. Before leaving, I glance toward Lena’s room.Her door is closed.I consider telling her where I’m going, but I don’t want another conversation about Aiden. I know she’ll worry, and I don’t have the energy to explain myself again.I leave a short note saying I’ll be back soon.The evening air is cool when I reach the street beside Roman’s brownstone. His black Maybach is parked near the curb, its polished surface reflecting the nearby streetlights.I look around.“Aiden?”No answer.I check my phone. The message is still there.Maybe he’s running late.I move closer to the building, trying to decide whether I should wait or go home. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a car door closing.Roman steps out from

It’s been three days since Aiden left and has refused to take my calls or reply to my texts I barely leave the armchair in the corner of my bedroom. The apartment feels too large without him, every room stripped of the warmth he used to bring simply by walking into it. Even the smallest sounds seem to remind me of what’s missing. Every morning, Lena brings me a glass of water and dry toast. She hovers nearby with sympathetic murmurs, smooths my blankets, and reminds me how fortunate I am to have her looking after me while everything else falls apart. She plays the concerned sister perfectly. I almost admire her for it. I don’t tell her about the nausea that greets me every morning. I don’t tell her about the prenatal vitamins I’ve been secretly taking. And whenever she’s in the room, I keep my hands folded tightly in my lap, terrified that even the smallest instinctive gesture—a hand drifting toward my lower abdomen—might expose the secret I’m desperate to protect. My pregnancy

The digital dragnet Roman has cast over my life closes in with terrifying efficiency.By the following afternoon, every breath I take inside Apartment 3B feels monitored. I can’t cross the hardwood floor without wondering whether someone is watching through a hidden camera or listening through a device I haven’t discovered.When I glance through the kitchen window, Declan’s black sedan is parked across the street. Its tinted windshield faces my apartment like a blind, unblinking eye.I step away from the window.He’s watching me.Perhaps not every second, but enough to make me question every movement. I haven’t received any calls from Roman’s people, and no one has come knocking, yet the silence feels more threatening than an open confrontation.I sit at the kitchen table, staring at a mug of cold tea I haven’t touched. My fingers drift toward my lower abdomen before I catch myself and pull them away.He suspects something.He doesn’t have confirmation yet, but Roman Sterling isn’t a