Semua Bab Billionaire, I'm No Longer Yours: Bab 71 - Bab 80

(Lila)I bolted upright in bed, instantly alert. Something had woken me from a dead sleep. The digital clock glowed 2:17 AM in the darkness of our bedroom. Nick slept soundly beside me, his arm still draped over the spot where I had been lying.Then I heard it—a soft, distressed whimper from the baby monitor.“Fleur?” I whispered, already sliding out of bed.The whimpering grew stronger, different from her usual middle-of-the-night fussing. My heart rate quickened as I hurried down the hall to the nursery, pushing open the door with shaking hands.Fleur thrashed in her crib, her tiny face flushed an alarming shade of red. When I touched her forehead, I yanked my hand back. She was burning up.“Nick!” I screamed. “Nick, get in here!”I scooped her into my arms, her body radiating heat through her pajamas. Nick appeared seconds later, hair disheveled and eyes wild.“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately alert.“She’s burning up. Get the thermometer!”Nick rushed to the bathroom while I r

(Ethan)I drummed my fingers against the polished conference table, glancing at my watch for the third time in five minutes. Jonathan Montgomery was late—unusual for a man who treated punctuality as a virtue and tardiness as a moral failing.I’d chosen this early hour specifically to avoid being seen. The fewer people who knew about our partnership, the better.My phone vibrated. A text from Cara: “James wants to know if you’ll be home for breakfast.”I smiled, typing back: “Meeting running late. Tell him I’ll make it up with pancakes tomorrow.”The door swung open as Jonathan finally strode in, impeccably dressed as always. “Ethan. Sorry for the delay. Board member cornered me in the elevator.”“No problem,” I lied, rising to shake his hand. “I appreciate the discretion of meeting this early.”Jonathan nodded, setting his briefcase on the table. “Discretion is essential at this stage. Especially given the…complications.”“You mean the fact that I’m partnering with my ex’s father to c

(Lila)I gripped Nick’s hand as Dr. Parkinson explained the latest test results.“Juvenile idiopathic inflammatory myopathy,” she said, pointing to highlighted areas on the scan. “It’s a rare autoimmune condition that causes inflammation in the blood vessels that supply the muscles and skin.”“What causes it?” Nick asked.“The exact cause is unknown,” Dr. Parkinson explained. “But there’s often a genetic predisposition triggered by environmental factors—possibly a virus or exposure to certain medications or chemicals.”My mind raced, trying to remember if I’d exposed Fleur to anything unusual. Had I missed something? Failed to protect her somehow?“The treatment,” I cut in, desperate for solutions. “What can we do?”Dr. Parkinson’s expression turned serious. “We have several options, ranging from conservative to more aggressive approaches.”She outlined the standard protocol: high-dose corticosteroids to reduce inflammation, followed by immunosuppressants to prevent the immune system

(Nick)I barked orders to my executive team, adrenaline fueling me despite two sleepless nights at the hospital.“Activate the Murphy clause on all Singapore shipments,” I commanded. “Redirect everything through our Malaysian terminals effective immediately.”Connelly, my head of operations, looked alarmed. “Sir, that’s going to bottleneck our entire Southeast Asian distribution chain. The costs alone—”“Will be absorbed,” I finished for him. “This is non-negotiable.”“But the Montgomery-Baldwin venture hasn’t even launched yet,” Lewis argued. “This seems premature—”“They’ve already secured the regulatory approvals,” I cut in. “They’ll be operational within weeks if we don’t act now.”The executive boardroom fell silent as my team exchanged glances. They knew better than to challenge me when I used this tone.“The Malaysian redirect isn’t sustainable long-term,” Harrison finally said. “Our contracts with—”“I’m not looking for sustainability,” I interrupted. “I’m looking for impact.

(Lila)I helped James with his homework at the kitchen table while Ethan and Nick retreated to the study to discuss business compromises. Cara sat beside me, occasionally offering guidance when James struggled with a math problem.“Multiply by seven,” I prompted, watching James’s forehead wrinkle in concentration.“I know,” he sighed. “I’m thinking.”The penthouse felt unnaturally quiet. Fleur was napping in the nursery with her favorite blanket covering her, her latest round of medication finally taking effect without side effects.The business newspapers Nick had brought home were stacked in the recycling bin, their inflammatory headlines mercifully hidden.“Dad and Uncle Nick have been talking a long time,” James observed, glancing toward the closed study door. “Are they still fighting?”“They’re trying to work things out,” Cara explained. “Sometimes that takes time.”“Will they shake hands after? That’s what Ms. Wilson makes us do when we fight at school.”I smiled despite the ten