All Chapters of In Bed With The MC President: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

MilaThe two-hour flight to New York felt like one endless suspended breath.I sat curled into the leather seat of the private jet, staring blankly through the oval window as the sprawling maze of Manhattan slowly emerged beneath the clouds.The city glittered against the dark water like shattered glass, sharp and alive and impossibly far away from the quiet war happening inside my chest.The cabin around us remained completely silent.Aaron sat across the aisle with a thick syndicate file open in his hands, his attention fixed firmly on pages of logistics, numbers, and security reports.He hadn’t spoken a single word since we left the bedroom in Chicago. Not one.He was giving me exactly what he promised.Space.But the tension radiating from his body soaked the entire cabin like electricity trapped beneath the walls.His massive body looked rigid beneath the black dress shirt stretched over his shoulders. His jaw was locked so hard it looked painful.It felt like watching a man forc

MilaThe heavy, stifling silence of the back office pressed against my eardrums. The neon sign outside buzzed with a low, erratic electrical hum, casting brief, violent flashes of red light across Justin’s exhausted face.He looked away from me, his jaw clenching as he reached for the bottle of cheap rye on his desk. He didn't pour it into a glass; he just took a long, jagged pull directly from the neck."Ryan isn't just back at the Empire Group," Justin finally rasped, lowering the bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes completely dark. "He *is* the Empire Group. He put on the ten-thousand-dollar suits. He took the corner office. He completely surrendered."My chest tightened, but I didn't interrupt. I let him speak."But that's not the ugly part, Mila," Justin continued, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly whisper. He leaned across the desk, looking at me like he was about to shatter my entire reality. "I found out the truth about the night you were

Mila“So do you still love him?” Nobody moved. The room smelled like stale paper, motor oil, old whiskey, and the faint sting of the rye Justin had been drinking straight from the bottle. My heartbeat, which had stayed strangely calm through everything else tonight, gave one slow, painful thud against my ribs. “Ryan?” I whispered. The name felt strange now. Heavy. Sharp around the edges. For an entire year, it had become something forbidden inside my own head. A splinter buried beneath skin. Too deep to pull out. Too painful to touch. Ryan. The boy who once sat beside me on the roof of this very bar with stars reflected in his eyes and promised me the entire world. The man who had let me disappear. I lowered my gaze to my hands resting against Leo’s blanket. They weren’t shaking. But suddenly they felt unbearably heavy. “I love him,” I admitted softly. The confession sounded hollow in the cramped office. Quiet. Exhausted. Like something ancien

MilaJustin had cleared out the small bedroom attached to the back office and left me alone with Leo so I could finally breathe.Or at least try to.The room was cramped and dimly lit, the single overhead bulb buzzing faintly above me. Old brick walls pressed inward from every side, stained dark with decades of cigarette smoke and South Side winters. The faded quilt beneath my palms smelled like dust, worn leather, and the faint metallic scent drifting in from the garage next door.It smelled like history. Like the version of my life that existed before Richard Wylder burned everything to the ground.Leo slept peacefully in the middle of the mattress beside me, completely exhausted by the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. One tiny fist rested beside his cheek, his dark curls sticking up in every direction.I stared at him for a long moment, my chest tightening painfully.I had escaped. I had finally driven myself back to the place where everything started.But sitting there in the

RyanI couldn’t breathe.My lungs had forgotten how to expand as I stayed on my knees beside the worn mattress, my hands hovering over the tiny, impossibly fragile body sleeping in the center of the faded quilt.A son. My son. He had dark hair. He had the same slope of Mila’s nose. He let out a soft, rhythmic little sigh, his tiny chest rising and falling, entirely unaware that his existence had just fundamentally altered the axis of the earth.For twelve months, I had been a ghost haunting my own life. I had let my father hollow me out, pour his corporate poison down my throat, and turn me into a weapon for the Empire Group because I thought there was nothing left in this world to protect. I thought the only beautiful thing I had ever touched was buried in the ground.But she wasn't. She was standing right behind me. And she had brought the light back with her.A violent, ragged tear slipped down my jaw and dropped onto the quilt. I didn’t wipe it away. I let the raw, bleeding agony