Semua Bab BARREN BILLIONAIRE'S EX WIFE, MOTHER OF TRIPLETS. : Bab 71 - Bab 80

ELOISE "Of course you want to go home," Damon said, his voice gentle but firm. "But it’s impossible." "Why?" I asked, my throat dry. "I think he wants to run a couple of routine tests. Your vital signs, that sort of thing. No big deal," he replied with a reassuring smile. "A big enough deal to keep me in here," I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. "You just woke up, honey," he reminded me, placing a hand on my arm. His touch was meant to soothe, but it only made me feel more trapped. "But I want to go home," I repeated, my voice sharper this time. "Now." A tense silence filled the room. Damon shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Carolina. She had been fussing over a Christmas cactus but now busied herself with a vase of flowers, plucking out the wilted roses and dropping them into a nearby wastebasket. Her hands trembled slightly, but she avoided my gaze. "Listen, dear," Carolina stepped closer to the bed, her expression hardening. A few moments ago, her

LUCIANO“The memory loss is severe,” the doctor explains, his voice calm but firm. “Eloise is experiencing post-traumatic amnesia. It’s common in cases like this, and while some memories may return, there’s no guarantee of full recovery.” His words sit heavy in my chest. I glance toward the bedroom bed, where Eloise sits, staring at her reflection in a mirror. The bruises and stitches stand out against her pale skin. With her free hand—the one not attached to the IV—she reaches up, fingers brushing over the shaved patch on her head. She swallows hard, her jaw tightening as she traces the row of stitches, her expression unreadable. “Oh, God,” she whispers, blinking rapidly. Her spine straightens, a feigned strength settling over her. “I . . . I don’t think I’d even pass as the Bride of Frankenstein . . . you know what they say, always a bridesmaid, never a . . .” Her voice falters. She tries to smile, but it’s shaky, failing before it even fully forms. Watching her like this—so

Luciano’s POVThe air inside the SUV was thick with tension as we sped toward the abandoned estate. The rhythmic hum of the tires against the road did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside me. My fingers curled tightly around the leather of my seat, my jaw clenched so hard it ached. Every passing second felt like a blade scraping against my skin. My children were out there, scared, alone, and in the hands of a man who had long overstayed his welcome in this world. Damon thought he could take them from me. That I would kneel. That I would break. He was about to learn how wrong he was. Alex sat beside me, double-checking his weapons. His usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a sharp, lethal focus. “Scouts say there are at least six men on guard,” he muttered, not looking up. “But they’re sloppy. They’re not expecting an ambush.” I nodded, my mind already running through the attack plan. “We go in fast, silent. No unnecessary casualties.” I exhaled slowly. “But if anyone t

DAMONPanic clawed at my throat, suffocating me. I paced the length of the warehouse, my fingers digging into my scalp as I tried to silence the chaos in my head. The room smelled of gunpowder and damp concrete, the flickering overhead lights casting shadows that seemed to grow with my paranoia. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Luciano wasn’t supposed to get this far. He was supposed to be dead. I had spent five years making sure Eloise never remembered what happened that night, five years ensuring the truth stayed buried. And now, in the span of a single day, everything was unraveling. I raked my hands through my hair, my breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. He was coming for them. For the kids. For her. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. The plan had been airtight. Eloise was weak, confused, her body betraying her with exhaustion. She wasn’t supposed to have the strength to question things. She wasn’t supposed to have the will to fight back. I had s

ELOISE I remember this place. The Bentley sped up a narrow, winding street to the summit of Mount Sutro, and my heart leaped as I caught my first glimpse of the house mounted at the most prestigious point on the ridge. Yes, yes, yes! I’d been here before—I was sure of it. Since leaving the hospital, I’d been in a foul mood, but some of that was dissipating as fragments of memory—tickles of my past—flashed behind my eyes. There was a ring… I glanced down at my left hand, frowning. Not the diamonds glittering there, but a simpler band I recalled. And there were other things, too—walking along a beach, riding horses… Yes, yes, yes. Bits and pieces, but still, they were mine. Less than thirty minutes ago, when I’d been wheeled out of the hospital, trepidation had settled deep inside me. Even as Alex helped me into the buttery leather interior of the Bentley, I couldn’t shake the unease curling in my gut. The chauffeur, a massive blond man with a fragmented smile and cold blue eyes,