Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120 Begging For Her On Knees

The stairwell echoed with the harsh strike of my heels against the concrete steps. I ran. I held Elias tight against my chest. He

wrapped his small arms around my neck, hiding his face in the collar of my blazer. The sudden, frantic pace terrified him.

Marcus led the descent, taking two steps at a time. Eduardo covered our rear flank. Lucia stayed close to my side, her breath coming

in short, panicked gasps.

We needed to reach the subterranean VIP garage. We needed to put the reinforced steel of the SUV,between my son and the

Johnston empire.

We hit the bottom landing. The heavy metal door stood ten feet away.

Eduardo pushed past me. He hit the crash bar. The door swung outward on heavy hinges, revealing the dim, fluorescent-lit concrete

of the parking structure.

A figure stood in the center of our path.

Tristan.

He used the central maintenance elevators. He anticipated our route and cut off the escape.

He blocked the path to the black sedan. He breathed in gasps.

Marcus stepped forward. He reached under his jacket, resting his hand on the grip of his weapon. “Move back.”

Tristan did not look at Marcus. He did not register the threat. His eyes stayed locked on the small boy in my arms.

Elias turned his head. He looked at the tall stranger standing in the harsh light.

The air in the garage turned to ice.

“Take him to the car,” I whispered to Lucia.

I loosened my grip. I handed my son to the nanny.

“Lock the doors,” I instructed Eduardo. “Do not let anyone approach the glass.”

Lucia took Elias. She hurried past Tristan. Eduardo followed, keeping a protective stance. Tristan did not try to stop them. He let

them pass. He turned his head, watching his son disappear behind the tinted windows of the armored vehicle.

The heavy doors of the SUV slammed shut.

Tristan and I stood alone in the dim vestibule.

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Chapter 120 Begging For Her On Knees

Then, Tristan knees hit the concrete floor. The sound cracked like a whip in the empty space. He did not kneel in a grand, romántic

gesture. His legs simply gave out.

He’rested his hands on the cold, dirty floor. He lowered his head. A brutal, ragged sob tore from his throat.

I stood three feet away. I watched him break.

‘He has my eyes,” Tristan choked out.

“Yes,” I said.

“You carried him alone. Tristan looked up. “I sat in boardrooms. I calculated debt. I negotiated with Thomas Whitmore. I thought I

carried the weight of the world.”

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the flood. He failed.

“You carried the world, Minerva,” he wept. The billionaire cried in front of me, stripped of all his pride. “You lived in a slum. You

went to a charity clinic. I left you in the dark. I thought my silence would keep you safe.”

I looked at the man weeping on the floor. My chest ached. I wanted him to fall to his knees and beg for my forgiveness.

We were two people destroyed by the greed of old money. He bled for his choices, and I bled for mine.

‘I signed the contract to save the company,” he confessed. The words spilled out like blood from a severed artery. “I thought I was a martyr. I thought I took the bullet so Harriet would not hunt you down. If I told you the truth, I knew you would stay. I knew you

would fight her.

He dropped his hands. He looked at me.

“She would have crushed you,” Tristan said. “She would have framed you for corporate espionage. She would have sent you to prison.

I signed the Whitmore deal to put a wall between you and my family.”

“I was a fool,” he sobbed. He dragged a trembling hand through his dark hair. “I built a cage of money and contracts. I trapped

myself inside. I thought I played a long game. I told myself I would fix it later. I told myself I could buy our way out of the trap

once the company stabilized.”

He looked at the black SUV. He looked at the tinted window where his son sat.

“I read the public health reports, Tristan continued, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper. “I saw the pictures of the Port Sterling

clinics. You had my child in a place with peeling paint and broken beds. I slept in a penthouse. I drank vintage wine. And you were

bleeding on a plastic mattress.”

He beat a fist against the concrete, punishing himself.

“I deserve every ounce of hatred you carry for me.” He choked out.

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Chapter 120 Begging For Her On Knees

I watched him punish himself. The anger I harbored for three years felt different now.

“You thought you could manage my life from afar, I said. “You thought silence was a shield. But silence is a vacuum, Tristan. It fills with fear. It fills with pain. I needed a husband. I needed a partner. I got a nothing.”

“I missed his first breath, Tristan wept. The grief tore him open. “I missed his first steps. I missed every single day.”

“You missed everything, I agreed.

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