Lahat ng Kabanata ng Billionaire, I'm No Longer Yours: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

(Grace)I ran my fingers down Maxwell’s bare chest as he lay beside me in the king-sized bed of his penthouse suite. The silk sheets felt cool against my naked skin. Everything about this room screamed wealth—from the Italian marble floors to the panoramic views of the city lights glittering below.“That was…exceptional,” Maxwell said, reaching for the crystal decanter on the nightstand.“Better than at the rehab?” I smiled, accepting the glass of scotch he poured me. The amber liquid burned pleasantly down my throat. Freedom tasted delicious after weeks in that facility, no matter how luxurious they tried to make it.“I must admit, your recovery seems remarkably swift.” Maxwell ran his fingers through my hair, twirling the dark ringlets around his finger.“Amazing what the right motivation can do.” I pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you for helping me get out early. Those doctors were so easy to convince once you applied the right pressure.”“Speaking of pressure—” Maxwell sat up, t

(Ethan)I sat in Cara Lowell’s office, watching James arrange toy cars on her desk. Three months had passed since the custody battle, but sometimes when I looked at my son, I still saw that terrified little boy when he’d first come to me.“The red one goes here,” James muttered, lining up his cars by color. “And the blue one next to it.”Cara smiled from her chair. “You like having things organized, don’t you?”“Uncle Nick taught me. He says when things are in order, they make more sense.” James grabbed another car. “Like how Dad always makes sure my homework’s done before TV.”“That’s right, buddy.” I leaned forward. “Structure helps us feel safe.”“Does it help with the nightmares?” Cara asked gently.James’s hand stilled on the toy car. “Sometimes. Dad lets me sleep with the lights on when they’re really bad.”My chest tightened. Even after months of therapy, hearing about his trauma still felt like being stabbed.“Tell me about these nightmares,” said Cara, scribbling in her noteb

(Lila)I lay on the living room couch, watching James organize baby clothes by color on the coffee table. His small hands smoothed each onesie carefully before adding it to the pile.“The pink ones should go here,” he said, creating a new stack. “And the yellow ones next to them.”“Very organized,” I said, adjusting the pillow under my enormous belly. The baby kicked hard, making me wince.James noticed immediately. “Is Fleur okay?”“She’s fine, sweetheart. Just running out of room in there.”Nick appeared from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water. “Here. Doctor said to stay hydrated.”“I hate water,” I grumbled but took the glass anyway.“The purple butterfly one is my favorite,” James announced, holding up a tiny sleeper. “Can she wear it first when she comes home?”“Of course.” I patted the couch beside me. James climbed up carefully, pressing his ear to my stomach.“Hi Fleur,” he whispered. “I picked out lots of pretty clothes for you.”The baby kicked right where his head reste

(Nick)The stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes hit me as Nora opened Grace’s bedroom door. Empty wine bottles littered the floor, along with scattered pills and torn magazine pages.“She left last night,” Nora said nervously. “I heard her moving around but thought nothing of it until…”“Until what?” Alexander asked sharply.Nora pointed to the walls. Photos covered every surface—James at school, at the park, at home. Each image marked with red ink, notes scrawled in Grace’s frenzied handwriting.“Jesus,” Ethan muttered, stepping closer to one photo. “She’s been stalking him.”“Not just James,” Romy said quietly. She gestured to another wall where photos of her and Lila hung. Red X’s marked their faces, surrounded by detailed descriptions of violence.I read one note: “Bleed them dry. Make them suffer like I suffered. Rip out the pregnant whore’s stomach and cut off the French bitch’s head.”I shuddered at the graphic descriptions. I could not read her insanity anymore, so I looked

(Lila)I lay propped up in the hospital bed, watching Nick pace while talking on his phone about wedding arrangements. I tapped my fingers on the bedside table lazily, marking another day of waiting for Fleur to arrive.“No, the flowers need to be blue, not purple. Romy’s having the purple flowers,” Nick snapped into his phone. “I don’t care if peonies don’t come in that shade. Find some other flower.”“The wedding planner giving you trouble?” I adjusted my position against the pillows.“Everyone’s giving me trouble.” Nick ended the call. “Your mother wants doves released. My father’s insisting on some thousand-dollar-a-bottle champagne. And Alexander’s threatening to have the whole security team in matching suits.”“At least James is excited about being ring bearer to two men.”“Thank God for James.” Nick dropped into the chair beside my bed. “How’s our girl doing today?”“Active. Doctor says any day now.”“Doctor’s been saying that for a week now.”The TV caught our attention as a n