Nobela ni maoomotayo

I limped barefoot, pain screaming through my feet, crawling up my legs, fogging my senses, but I didn’t slow down. I just needed to get out. Now.I reached the roadside and waved frantically. A black taxi pulled over.The driver’s eyes dropped to my bare feet, then the white bandage wrapped tight around my ankle. He hesitated but i didn’t.I slid into the back seat.“Ashbourne Medical Facility,” I rushed out, already tapping my screen, redialing the nurse. No answer.Instead, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I ignored it. It rang again. And again.I hissed under my breath, ended the call, then blocked the number without a second thought. Whoever it was could wait. I wasn’t in the mood to explain anything to anyone.Thirty minutes later, the car rolled to a stop outside my father’s private medical facility.I paid, shoved the door open, and limped inside, refusing to look back.“Mrs. Davenhall,” voices followed me the moment I stepped in, heads turning, eyes immediately dropping to my

I swung the tennis bat hard at the incoming ball, and it flew back to my opponent. He returned it just as hard, but I was quicker, sending it back before he could react.“Shit!” Vincent, my personal assistant, spat, throwing his bat aside. He looked utterly defeated, again, after the umpteenth loss in the last two hours.“You still suck, Vin,” I said flatly, my tone cold as I walked over to grab a bottle of water and chugged it down. Sweat was beginning to make me feel grimy.“No. You’re just too good at this,” he mumbled, walking over. “Honestly…is there one thing you aren’t good at?”I didn’t answer, passing the bottle back to him. “What’s next on my schedule?” I exhaled heavily, eyes roaming the tennis court.“Lunch first, then a dinner meeting at 8 with the Brooks.”My eyes snapped to his blue ones. “The Brooks?”“Yes.” He lowered his voice. “They still haven’t decided to work with Tad Davenhall, so this may be our chance.”Hearing his name alone made a surge of disgust rise in me

I had woken up still feeling warm from my conversation with Timothy last night, but the moment I grabbed my phone, every feeling flew out the window.It was a chat from the same unknown number. I tapped the chat open, and before the screen fully loaded, ten new messages slid in.A raw gasp tore from my throat and I felt the blood drain from my face as the images struck clearly.“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whispered, scrolling on my phone with a shaky thumb just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks.But no. There it was. Again. And again.Tad. Shirtless, on a balcony. Arms wrapped around some woman. His mouth on hers. Her linen nightwear barely covers anything. None of the pictures showed her face.It had to be from his Italy trip, the same trip he’d come back from last week, smelling like a different cologne and lying straight to my face about “business meetings.”He was laughing in the shots, too. Actually laughing. When was the last time Tad smiled anywhere near me? Hell

Two days earlierThe silence in the back of the Maybach was loud, the kind of silence that usually preceded one of Tad’s “performances.”My phone buzzed in my hand, I unlocked it, expecting to find a nagging text about my marriage from mum, but what I saw twisted my face in confusion.“Your husband looks so perfect in that suit, doesn't he? Too bad it's all a facade.” __Unknown.It was from an unknown number. My eyes jerked up in confusion. We were just 3 in this car.I, Tad, and Tad’s loyal driver, David, who seemed too engrossed in driving to pay attention to my sudden reaction.“Alice.”My head snapped left. Grey eyes pinned me in place."Are you listening to me?" Tad’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.“I am,” I shuddered, placing my phone face down on my thigh. Truth be told, I wasn't, but I'm not about to explain that to him.His eyes returned to the road. “Tonight isn’t just your parents’ wedding anniversary. It’s also my opportunity to close the deal.” A pause.“Th

It was already past six by the time I stepped out of the hospital. The nurses had bandaged my feet again; the swelling was down, and the pain was a little more manageable.They’d slipped a comfortable pair of flip-flops on me, and a driver was waiting outside. I got in and left.Missed calls from Mum lit up my phone, along with voice notes lecturing me to act like a proper wife and “have a son.” I half expected her to have trailed me here, to the hospital, but no.She avoided this place, just like everyone else avoided Elliot, my little brother, like he was some kind of plague.Same with Tad. My husband.He’d only shown his face twice at Elliot’s bedside, played the perfect brother-in-law for a minute, then vanished.I’d gotten a text from him earlier saying he was “out of town for business” and wouldn’t be back for the next three days.But what I didn’t expect was another notification from that same unknown number, the same one that had been texting me for days now. A single image.T