Too Late to Want Me; I chose your Billionaire Brother のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 151 - チャプター 160

Benita couldn’t stop shaking. The chapel’s damp air pressed in like a weight, yet her skin burned as if fevered. Words swirled in her head but refused to settle.An elder daughter. My sister. A life erased before mine began.Her throat felt raw, her chest hollowed out. She wanted to scream, to demand Margot take it back, but the woman’s eyes held the kind of sorrow that made denial impossible.Cillian’s hand settled firmly at her back. “You don’t have to process it now,” he murmured. “But you do have to choose. Do you trust her, Bee?”Benita blinked at Margot. The resemblance was there — in the tilt of her chin, the sharpness of her gaze. Her mother’s face, aged into something harder.“I…” Her lips trembled. “I don’t know if I can trust you. But I can’t ignore you either.”Margot inclined her head as if that was answer enough. “Then listen well. Your father isn’t the only one who knows the truth. The Elders have it bound in ink — but ink can be undone. The calendar is the key. He mark

The Elder Hall rose like a fortress against the morning haze. Its pillars were gray with centuries of soot, its stained-glass windows dulled by dust. From the outside, it was a monument to permanence. From within, it guarded the city’s deepest betrayals. Benita’s pulse hammered as she stood in the shadow of its eastern wall. The city stirred just beyond the square—vendors calling, carriages rattling—but here all sound felt muffled. The Hall seemed to breathe on its own, each stone groaning with the weight of secrets. Lola tugged her jacket tighter, squinting at the service stair tucked between two columns. “So this is it? We just waltz into the Elders’ basement? No alarms, no guards, no—” “Shh.” Cillian lifted a hand. His eyes swept the perimeter, sharp as a hawk’s. “There’s a guard rotation. Three minutes between passes. That’s our window. Stay close.” Benita gripped the strap of her bag, the calendar pressing against her ribs like a heartbeat. She tried to breathe slow, steady, b

The safehouse was still heavy with silence long after Shanon King left. The storm outside rattled the shutters like a warning, but inside, it was the names on the ledger that weighed the most.Benita sat at the table, her hands pressed flat over the thin stack of papers, as though keeping them from vanishing. Belle Laurent. Elara. The ink felt hotter than fire.Cillian broke the quiet first.“Three hours east,” he said, his voice low, steady, almost more to himself than the others. “If we leave before dawn, we make it by midmorning. I want us inside before anyone has time to follow.”Lola flopped into a chair opposite Benita, pulling her knees up like a sulky teenager, though her eyes were sharp.“Great,” she muttered. “Nothing like waking up at stupid-o’clock to break into a haunted convent. Because that’s definitely what my therapist would recommend.”Benita almost smiled, though it caught in her throat. “It’s not haunted. It’s—” She faltered, her gaze falling back to the name. “It’

The wind off the sea was sharp, whipping hair into faces and tugging at their jackets as they climbed the final incline. St. Maren’s loomed larger with every step—its stone walls fractured, its roof caved in places, ivy threading like veins across its bones.Benita slowed as they reached the gates. Iron, rusted through, bent inward as though something had once forced its way out. She reached a hand to the cold metal, the sea’s roar below echoing in her chest.“This place…” she whispered.Cillian scanned the perimeter, eyes narrow. “The Elders abandoned it decades ago. But not before they left their mark.”“Left their mark?” Lola made a face, hugging herself against the wind. “Understatement. It looks like a set designer went too hard on gothic ruins.”Benita almost smiled. Almost. But the weight in her chest was too heavy. She stepped through the broken gate.⸻Inside, the courtyard stretched wide, stones cracked and weeds sprouting through. A dry fountain sat at its center, its once-

The figure on the ridge didn’t move. It stood like a smudge against the dying light, more silhouette than person, yet the weight of its gaze pressed against all of them.Benita’s chest tightened. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she forced herself still, the folder clutched to her chest.Cillian’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer to the shattered window, his posture sharp with vigilance. “They’ve been tailing us.”Shanon’s voice cut low, steady but threaded with urgency. “And now they know you’re here.”Syl swore under his breath, dragging Lola subtly behind him. She resisted the gesture with a frown but didn’t argue. Kent shifted his weight, restless energy radiating from him, like he’d rather sprint into the open than stand still under someone’s surveillance.Benita finally found her voice, brittle and tight. “You wanted us to see this? To panic? You brought us here knowing they’d follow?”Shanon’s gaze flicked to her, hard. “I didn’t bring them. They never left. They’ve b