บททั้งหมดของ STUCK WITH MR. BILLIONAIRE FOR CHRISTMAS : บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

DANTE.Dove had been awake for fifteen minutes, and already she had cried through half a box of tissues, her fingers entwined with mine. The oxygen tube rested across her nose. Her cheeks were sunken, and her collarbone jutted sharply against her hospital gown."I'm sorry." She had apologized so many times. "I'm so sorry, Dante. For everything. For what I put you and Cinnamon through.""Stop." I squeezed her hand gently. "I let you grow up too fast. That's on me.""No, I should have come to you the moment it started. I let him convince me that you'd be disappointed. That you'd see me differently." Her voice cracked mid-sentence. "And now look at what I've done to our family. Look at what I've—""Hey." I leaned closer. "You're here. You're breathing. That's where we start."She pressed her lips together and nodded, but her eyes remained wet.My head was pounding. Mom was two doors down, finally asleep after the doctors managed her condition. She had been closer to sepsis than anyone ha

CINNAMON.My situation had been managed, and I was stabilized, but I felt incredibly weak. The children weren’t with me when I woke up again.I looked around in fear.“Mrs. Moretti, the kids are asleep,” a nurse told me. “The detective is just outside waiting. She wanted to make sure you were stabilized before continuing the investigation.”Her words felt distant to me, barely registering.My Khole couldn’t be dead. Neither could Mrs. Patterson. Khole was all I had left. What would I do without her? She was my greatest source of support. And how could I face Mrs. Patterson’s family? She wasn’t supposed to be at our house that night but had offered to be there instead. Now, I felt responsible for the death of such an incredible woman and mother.Lord, it shouldn’t have ended this way for us.“No. No,” I whispered to myself.“Mrs.—”The curtain shifted as Dante walked in.He looked terrible; his shirt was untucked, his jacket gone, his hair disheveled, and his face bore a ravaged look s

CINNAMON.Dante visited on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Taylor had approved supervised contact with the children, and he arrived right on time and left as scheduled. During the third week, he brought Oliver a small yellow toy car, which Oliver has taken everywhere since, even to bed. He sat on the garden floor with Thessa, listening intently as she detailed the intricate politics of her stuffed animal collection.I observed from the doorway, relieved that the children were momentarily distracted from the turmoil we had faced.He never pressured me or asked for more than I was willing to give, which wasn't much—a nod when he arrived and a quiet comment about the children's routine if something needed to be conveyed. Once, after Thessa went inside, he lingered in the garden for ten minutes while I stood in the kitchen doorway watching him gaze at the jasmine as if it held some secret meaning for him.When he noticed my presence and turned to look at me, I went back inside.Yet I still wore t

DANTE.The world believed I was thriving.I had made it appear that way.Three conferences in six weeks. Two magazine features—one focused on finance, the other on lifestyle. The Meridian announcement. The keynote at the Spain Business Forum that Tate had scheduled eight months prior, which I nearly canceled four times before realizing that backing out would require an explanation I simply didn’t have the energy to provide.So I attended. Smiled. Shook hands with both of my hands. Said all the right things in all the right places and watched as people nodded, took my picture, and walked away believing in the version of Dante Moretti that I presented to them.It was the most exhausting performance of my life.I came home to a house that still smelled faintly of a life that no longer lived there, poured something I didn't taste, and sat in a chair until the city went dark outside the window.That was what thriving looked like from the inside.My phone lit up on the desk. I already knew

CINNAMONI had lost track of how long it had been since I last tried to contact my so-called best friend, Risa. It still hurts that she betrayed me, but the nagging need to understand why she did it wouldn’t leave my mind. I just wanted to know when those thoughts first crossed her mind.I was making pancakes with Dove, who has been a true blessing since she arrived. She and Miranda brought a lightness that eased the depression I was sinking into. They brought peace to my heart and helped me forget my worries.She'd walked into the kitchen at seven-thirty with her hair wrapped and her sleeves pushed up and announced that she was hungry. That was what I loved most about her recovery. It wasn't passive. She worked on herself one day at a time and kept going."Did Miranda take the kids to school?" I reached past her for the flour, adding another measure into the sugar mix by feel."Left twenty minutes ago. Security team with them." Dove leaned over the bowl and inhaled. "Both kids had th