All Chapters of Forced To The Billionaire: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The words hang in the air, heavy as lead, as I stand frozen in the doorway, staring at my father. His face is ashen, drained of the pride and strength I’ve always known him for. In this moment, he doesn’t look like the man who raised me, who I thought I understood, but someone entirely different someone I can’t quite reach.I blink, trying to shake the fog from my brain. The world doesn’t make sense anymore. None of it does. But there he is. My father. Telling me to help Aurora the same woman who has been the architect of every dark turn in our lives. The same woman whose ambition nearly destroyed everything we’d built.He’s standing there, his hands bound, yet there’s a certain… resignation in his eyes. I see it clearly now, in the way he stands, his shoulders slumped under the weight of some unseen burden. It’s as if all the years of decisions that should have been mine to make have already been made for me and I’ve just now learned it. All the mistakes, all the choices, they lead m

When I woke the next morning, the world hadn’t fallen apart just yet. For a moment, the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the curtains made everything feel normal. Levi’s arm was draped over my waist, his breathing steady and slow against the back of my neck. It was grounding—comforting even—but then reality crept in like a slow-burning fuse. Aurora. My father. The summit. The fleeting sense of peace evaporated as my mind kicked into gear. There were a million things to do, but for the first time, I didn’t want to move. The bed was warm, Levi’s presence grounding. I wanted to freeze this moment and keep it in my pocket for when the weight of everything became unbearable. But the world outside didn’t care about stolen moments. Levi stirred beside me, his grip tightening slightly as he shifted. “You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep. “I didn’t know thinking had a volume,” I whispered back, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the storm

LEVIThe pounding on the door was an extension of my heart, both useless and relentless. I couldn’t think past the sound of her voice still ringing in my ears. Her last words. Calm. Steady.But I wasn’t steady. “Eliana!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the reinforced steel door. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to keep going, to tear the damn thing apart with my bare hands if I had to. The facility groaned, the explosions still rippling through its skeletal structure. We didn’t have time. I knew that. I could feel it in the shudder of the floor beneath my feet, in the sparks raining from the exposed wires above. But I wasn’t leaving her. Not like this. “Levi, we have to go!” The voice crackled in my earpiece, one of my men screaming into the comms. “The data—we can’t lose it! We’re pulling out now!” The critical evidence. The proof we’d bled for, fought for, risked everything for. If I left now, I could still make it. I could save everything we’d worked to destroy

The first thing I noticed was the quiet. It wasn’t the eerie silence of Aurora’s base or the brittle kind that followed an argument. This was soft, warm, and oddly comforting, like the world had decided to pause just for us. The second thing I noticed was Levi. He was lying beside me, his face relaxed in a way I didn’t often see. The hard edges that defined him had softened in sleep, and his hand was resting lightly on my hip, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he didn’t hold on. It was strange, seeing him like this—vulnerable, almost boyish. It made my chest ache in a way I didn’t entirely understand. I shifted slightly, and his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he just stared at me, like he wasn’t sure if I was real. “Morning,” I said, my voice rough from sleep. His lips curved into a lazy smile. “Morning.” There was a beat of silence, the kind that stretched and lingered, heavy with unspoken things. Then he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You

The moment between us stretched longer than I intended. His lips were warm, the kind of warmth that seeps into you slowly, like sitting too close to a fire on a cold night. His hands cupped my face gently, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. When we finally pulled apart, I stayed close, my forehead resting against his. “Is this reckless?” I murmured. “Completely,” he replied, his voice a mix of amusement and something deeper. “But I don’t care.” Neither did I, though I didn’t say it aloud. For once, I didn’t feel the need to mask what I was feeling, at least not with him. The weight of everything still hung in the air—the weapon, Aurora, my father—but for now, it didn’t crush me. He tilted his head, studying me in the dim light of the garden. “You’re thinking too much.” “I can’t help it. It’s my thing.” “Maybe you should try feeling instead,” he said softly, his voice dipping into that dangerously tender tone that made my chest ache. I laughed, though it came out qui