All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S DANGEROUS GAME : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The moment Sienna sees Mia standing there, the world blurs. Her breath catches, and before she can think, her feet move on their own. She rushes toward Mia, her arms outstretched, the force of her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She collides with her friend, gripping her tightly as though Mia might vanish if she let go. “Mia!” Sienna’s voice breaks, her words tumbling out in a desperate stream. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling and texting—you just disappeared! I thought... I thought something had happened to you.” Her voice falters, and she pulls back just enough to see Mia’s face. The sight of her, alive and whole, is a relief that makes Sienna’s knees weak. But the shadow in Mia’s eyes—something guarded and weary—makes her chest ache. “I’m sorry,” Mia whispers, her tone soft but distant. She brushes a strand of Sienna’s hair back, her fingers lingering briefly on Sienna’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” Sienna shakes her head, her throat tightening. “You h

Noah King isn’t a man who wastes time. His days are meticulously planned, his decisions calculated, his actions deliberate. But today, for the first time in years, he lets the hours slip through his fingers like sand. And he doesn’t regret it. There’s an innocence to the child that Noah finds both comforting and unsettling as if Noel’s laughter chips away at a part of himself he thought he buried long ago. They spend the rest of the day doing things Noah hasn’t done since he was a kid: buying toys at the mall, eating messy burgers and fries at a diner, and running through the park as the sun dips low. It isn’t just an outing; it’s a memory in the making, one that feels foreign and painfully nostalgic. Noel wears a blue knitted sweater with shorts and little sandals. His glasses, slightly too large for his face, keep slipping down his nose. Every time he pushes them back up with a tiny hand, warmth floods Noah’s chest, soothing the edges of his otherwise hardened demeanor.

Sienna paces the living room floor, her bare feet brushing against the cold tiles as the hours stretch on endlessly. She’s draped in a soft robe, her swollen eyes red from crying, her stomach unsettled. Every noise from outside makes her head snap toward the front door, her heart leaping with hope, only to crash when it remains shut. She’s thrown up twice, her body feverish and trembling, her mind unable to settle. Noah hasn’t come back. The sound of tires crunching gravel startles her from her daze. She clutches the edge of the couch, her breath hitching. For a moment, she dares to hope it’s him. But when the door swings open, it’s not Noah—it’s Vox. He steps inside, his sharp features softening when he sees her. “Mrs. King,” he says gently, his tone measured, careful. She tries to smile, but it’s faint, her energy too drained to sustain it. “Vox,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “What are you doing here? And, please, just call me Sienna.” He hesitates, glancing at her robe

The silence stretches between Sienna and Ivana, charged and suffocating. Sienna tries to piece together the fragments of what she just heard, her heart pounding so violently it feels like her ribs might splinter. Ivana stands nearby, her expression unreadable, as if waiting for Sienna to process the bombshell she just dropped. “Noah loves me,” Sienna finally stammers, her voice shaking. She looks up at Ivana, desperate to find some crack in her claim. “You’re lying. He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this.” Ivana exhales softly, almost like she expected this reaction. “I wish I were lying,” she says, her tone low and steady. “But I’m not. I came here because you deserve the truth.” “No,” Sienna whispers, shaking her head as if denying it hard enough will make it untrue. “Noah wouldn’t… Noah loves me.” Her voice grows louder, almost frantic. “He wouldn’t hurt me like this.” Ivana steps closer, her expression somewhere between sympathy and resignation. “You’re right. He does

The world becomes chaos as Sienna collapses in Ethan’s arms, blood staining his shirt, his hands, and even the floor beneath them. He’s shouting, his voice hoarse and frantic. “Help! Someone help her!” But the people around them are frozen in a different kind of urgency—not one to save her, but one to capture the moment. Phones are pulled out, and the clicks of cameras punctuate the air like bullets. Ethan’s rage boils over. “What the hell are you all doing? Stop taking pictures and call for help!” His words are swallowed by murmurs and whispers, a crowd that feeds on the spectacle. The flashes continue, and someone even dares to live-stream the scene. “911,” Ethan mutters to himself, fumbling for his phone with trembling hands. Blood smears the screen as he dials, his voice cracking when the operator answers. “There’s a woman—she’s bleeding out! She’s pregnant! We’re at the corner of Fifth and Maple! Send someone now!” He drops the phone into his pocket and turns back to Sienna