Chapter 14: Into The Night [pt. 2]

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• Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother   Chapter 55: A Pair Of Dry Hands

  Devon’s foot slammed the brake just in time and the car lurched forward with a sharp hiss of tires against asphalt, jolting him hard into his seatbelt. His heart immediately shot up to his throat, hammering. For a second, he couldn’t move, or breath. He just sat there staring through the windshield at the small figure frozen in front of his car. A child. He'd almost hit a child. Barefooted. Clothes loose and threadbare, hanging off his bony shoulders. His knees were scraped, dirt smudged along his face like war paint. The boy stood there unmoving, wide-eyed, as if the world had paused with him in it. Devon’s hand shot to the door handle and he was out of the car before he’d even realized it. “Hey,” he called, voice raw with adrenaline. “Are you hurt?” The kid didn’t speak. Just blinked up at him, wary and silent. Devon crouched low, his breath still uneven. “You okay?” No answer. But the boy didn’t run. His lip trembled slightly, and his fingers twitched like he didn’t know

• Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother   Chapter 54: Just Ahead

  The tires hummed quietly beneath him as the city rolled by—gray, blurred buildings smeared across the windshield like watercolor. Devon’s hands gripped the steering wheel with more tension than he realized, veins stiff beneath the skin. The AC whispered, faint against the low throb in his temples. It was just past noon, and the sunlight barely pierced through the muted clouds. Manhattan never quite stopped moving, but in this moment, Devon felt curiously still, like he was suspended above his life, watching it unfold from the outside. It had been a week since Hugh Lawson's funeral. The weight of it hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had settled into the marrow of things. Not just the funeral—everything. Damian’s death. The accident. The way his name still echoed in Devon’s mind, soaked in guilt and silence. The PI’s report on Celeste. The blackmail. The lies. The damned ring he’d picked up from the warehouse, now buried in a hollow space in his study drawer, wedged between meaningless

• Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother   Chapter 53: Annabelle

  Devon stared out the window as the city crawled past in a haze of headlights and streetlamps, his mind heavier than the sky above. The night air had that damp weight of impending rain, though it hadn’t started yet. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening, as he drove toward the meeting spot—the place where Celeste had agreed to meet him. Pier 19. The streetlamps flickered as Devon pulled up to the isolated spot he’d chosen for the meeting. Pier 19. Cold wind sliced across the waterfront, and the place was eerily silent, save for the occasional creak of steel or a distant horn. She’d been vague, which didn’t surprise him. Celeste never gave away more than she needed to, but something about the last exchange had felt… wrong. Too quiet. Too smooth. Still, Devon had agreed, and now he was headed there, unsure of what he hoped to find. He parked his car along the waterline, the scent of brine sharp in the air. The pier stood mostly empty, its structure dimly lit by a

• Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother   Chapter 52: He's Gone

  Annabelle didn’t feel the floor beneath her feet. Infact, she didn’t feel anything at all. She just stood there, eyes fixed on the doctor as his words kept repeating in her mind, as though he hadn't said them just once but a thousand times. Her father was gone now. Just... just like that. That strong, intimidating, infuriating man who had always loomed like an iron-clad pillar in her life had fallen. Fallen without warning. Without any goodbyes. As she kept thinking about all these, the edges of her vision blurred. Her knees buckled slightly, and she had to reach for the wall to steady herself. Cold sweat clung to her back like a baby did to it's mother. The doctor's voice droned on, something about time of death and cardiac complications, but Annabelle couldn't follow up. She barely nodded. Words felt useless useless now, and reality? Unbearable. She made her way to the waiting bench just outside the corridor and sat down, trembling fingers clasped tightly in her lap. Her ches

• Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother   Chapter 51: My Father—Is He Alright?

  Annabelle had barely ended the call before she was out the door. Her purse dangled loosely from her shoulder, nearly slipping off as she fumbled for her car keys. Her hands shook, her breath unsteady. It wasn’t like her father to ignore her calls. Especially not three back-to-back ones. And Rita’s voice on the other end of the line—polite but tight—hadn’t done anything to calm her nerves. He was there, in the office. Or at least he had been. Why hadn’t he picked up? She climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut harder than necessary. Her fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel as the engine roared to life. The city spun around her, a chaotic blur of motion and noise, but all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears. She didn’t bother checking the traffic updates or tuning the radio to distract herself. Her focus was razor-sharp, and yet her mind reeled. God, what if something had happened? She tried to reason with herself, but logic wasn’t winnin

• Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother   Chapter 50: Straight to voicemail.

  Annabelle leaned back against the plush cushions of the living room sofa, a steaming mug of chamomile tea resting between her hands. She hadn’t planned to call her father, but the silence between them had stretched too long. Ever since Damian’s funeral, Hugh Lawson had retreated into a fortress of his own making—distant, unreachable. Maybe he was grieving in his own way, but it unsettled her. Something about it felt... wrong. Her thumb hovered over the phone screen before she finally tapped on his contact. One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail. She frowned, biting the inside of her cheek. She called again. Still nothing. A third attempt went straight to voicemail. Her fingers gripped the phone a little tighter. Hugh Lawson wasn’t fond of texting, sure—but he always answered her calls. Even on the worst of days. This wasn’t like him. With a tight breath, she dialed the office line. It rang twice before a familiar voice came through—calm and professional. "Hi, this is Rita spea