Semua Bab Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Sienna’s POV The penthouse was unusually quiet that morning. No little feet thudding across the floor. No cartoons murmuring from the TV. No excited voices arguing over cereal flavors. Just me. And the soft music playing from my phone as I tried to fill the silence with rhythm instead of thoughts. I moved slowly from room to room, folding blankets, arranging pillows, wiping down surfaces that were already clean. I didn’t even know what I was cleaning anymore. I suppose I just needed something to do with my hands—some way to quiet the unease that had settled in my chest since morning. I kept checking my phone. No messages. No missed calls. No sign of Amaya. It had been two days. Two days since I last heard her voice. Two days since she promised she would come by and help with the cooking, the cleaning, the routine I was still learning how to live inside. And then… nothing. She hadn’t answered my calls or replied to a single message. She hadn’t even been onli

Desmond’s POV She told me about my mother like she was confessing a crime. We were standing in the kitchen, the late-afternoon sunlight filtering through the window and turning her hair into molten gold. She leaned against the counter with her arms folded, biting her lower lip in that way she did whenever something bothered her more than she wanted to admit. “Your mother called again today,” she said quietly. I glanced up from the coffee machine. “Again?” She nodded. “This time, she asked if I’d learned ‘proper family discipline’ yet.” I paused. Slowly turned my head toward her. “And?” I asked. “And then she told me that she preferred burgundy to pure red for the flowers.” she finished softly. My jaw tightened, I didn’t curse, didn’t throw anything, didn’t even raise my voice—I just laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was ridiculous. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that,” I muttered. Sienna looked torn between offense and disbelief. “You’re just g

Sienna’s POV I hesitated for only a fraction of a second before answering Maya. “Yes,” I said quietly. “That is the man.” The word man tasted strange on my tongue, like a memory I had swallowed whole and never digested. Her little face lit up in recognition, relief softening her features as if she had just solved the most important puzzle in her world. “I knew it,” she said, almost bouncing on her toes. “I told Max it was him. He said I was just imagining things.” Max, who had clearly been pretending not to listen, leaned forward immediately. “I didn’t say that. I said you thought he was somebody on TV because your brain always makes things dramatic.” Maya placed her hands on her hips. “It does not.” Milo, completely uninterested in the argument but desperate to join the conversation, raised his spoon dramatically like a reporter holding a microphone. “If he is on TV, does that mean he is famous?” The question hit harder than it should have. “Yes,” I replied careful

Sienna’s POV I glanced at the message on my phone again, the words making my chest tighten. “Please come to the fashion house now, Michelle here.” There was nobody with the kids. My mind immediately raced. How could I leave them alone? They were at the age where everything fascinated them, where even a brief moment without supervision felt monumental. But I knew I had no choice; if I didn’t handle this now, it could escalate into something far worse. “Mommy, is there a problem?” Maya’s small voice pulled me out of my thoughts. Her round eyes stared up at me, the worry plain on her face. “Mommy, why are you looking so worried?” Milo chimed in, tugging lightly at my sleeve. “Is it the fashion house? Did something terrible happen?” “I… I don’t know, sweethearts,” I replied carefully, trying to mask the anxiety creeping up my spine. “There’s just something I need to check, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” “But, mommy, can we come with you?” Max asked, hopping on his little to

Sienna’s POVI sank into the plush sofa of the penthouse living room, feeling as though the weight of the world had just landed squarely on my shoulders. The children were asleep upstairs, their soft breathing a faint reminder of the responsibility I carried, and yet even that comfort couldn’t ease the tension building inside me. The folder of complaints from the fashion house lay open on the coffee table, each page a testament to a problem I didn’t even know how to solve.Desmond had been calm, reassuring, and unflinchingly focused since he arrived, but even his presence couldn’t immediately make the fear and frustration vanish. I took a deep breath and let the words spill from my lips, my voice breaking slightly despite my attempts to sound composed. “Desmond… I told you everything, but… the clothes, the orders for the celebrities… they were tampered with. They were supposed to be perfect, and now…” I trailed off, shaking my head.Desmond leaned forward, his elbow resting lightly on