LOGINThe morning light filtered softly into Kennedy's room, painting the luxurious space in hues of gold. She woke feeling surprisingly rested, the deep sleep having mended some of the frayed edges of her trauma. Tyler was already there, sitting quietly in an armchair by the window, a cup of tea steaming on the bedside table. He looked tired, his jaw shadowed with stubble, but his gaze was fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath catch."Good morning," he said, his voice low, almost hesitant."Morning," Kennedy replied, pushing herself up against the pillows. She took a sip of the tea, its warmth a welcome comfort. She looked at him, remembering his apology from the night before, the raw emotion in his eyes. "Tyler," she began, her voice calm, measured, "about what you said last night... I understand."Tyler stiffened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "Understand?" he echoed, a hint of confusion in his tone."Yes," Kennedy continued, her gaze steady. "I unders
Tyler stood at the doorway, his hand still on the knob, his gaze finally meeting hers, raw and vulnerable. "Because you're my wife, Kennedy," he said, his voice low, husky. "And I almost lost you." The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken regret and a desperate plea.Kennedy stared at him, the sheer weight of his confession hitting her. My wife. The title felt foreign, yet strangely familiar, after everything. A sharp, unexpected pain lanced through Tyler's chest, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning inside him. It was the fear, the guilt, the sudden, stark reality of how close he'd come to losing her, combined with her earlier mention of divorce. It felt like a fist clenching around his heart. He winced, a subtle tremor running through him.Kennedy saw it. Her eyes, still tired but sharp, immediately picked up on his discomfort. "Tyler? Are you okay?" Her voice was laced with genuine concern, a reflex born from years of shared history, despite their fractur
Tyler carried Kennedy through the hushed hospital corridors, his steps firm, almost urgent. As they neared the exit, he shifted her slightly in his arms, his voice a low, almost possessive murmur against her hair. "Hold on tight, Kennedy. Don't want you slipping." It wasn't just about her safety; it was a command, a subtle claim.Kennedy, still hazy from the ordeal and the medication, instinctively tightened her arms around his neck. Her cheek pressed against his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart. A strange flutter stirred in her stomach – confusion, yes, but also a nascent warmth she couldn't quite place. Slipping? she thought, a little muddled. He held her so securely, so effortlessly. Why the sudden instruction? It felt... deliberate.From a discreet distance, Tyler's assistant, a man who knew his boss better than almost anyone, watched the scene unfold. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, a silent cheer. He’d seen the raw fear in Tyler's eyes when Kennedy
The hospital room felt heavy with the unspoken tension between Tyler and Vincent. Tyler had just carried Kennedy out, leaving Vincent alone for a moment. When Tyler returned, his jaw was set, his eyes narrowed."You think you're clever, don't you, Vincent?" Tyler's voice was low, dangerous. "Trying to stake your claim, playing the hero."Vincent merely raised an eyebrow, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. "I'm simply stating facts, Tyler. You have a history with Brenda. A very public, very complicated history. And now, her name is being thrown around in connection with Kennedy's kidnapping.It doesn't look good for you, does it?" He paused, letting the words sink in. "As for me, I was here. I was the one by Kennedy's side when she needed someone. I'm the one who will ensure justice is served, regardless of who is involved." He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "You're tied to Brenda, Tyler. I'm tied to Kennedy. The distinction is quite clear, wouldn't you s
The fluorescent lights of the interrogation room hummed, a relentless, buzzing sound that grated on Eliana's nerves. They cast a harsh, unforgiving glow on her face, highlighting every bead of sweat, every flicker of defiance. She sat across from a stern-faced detective, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a sneer fixed on her lips."Kidnapping? What kidnapping? I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice was sharp, laced with a false bravado that barely masked the tremor in her hands. "I was just... hanging out with a friend. We had a little misunderstanding, that's all. Girls fight, you know?" She tried to sound casual, dismissive, but her eyes darted nervously around the sterile room, searching for an escape route that wasn't there.In the room next door, separated by a thin, soundproofed wall, Ryan slumped in his chair, looking utterly defeated. His eyes were red-rimmed, puffy from crying, his clothes disheveled and stained. He didn't have Eliana's cold, calculating res
Brenda's mind reeled. Unharmed. Kennedy was unharmed. The word echoed in her head, a terrifying, deafening clang. Unharmed meant she could talk. Unharmed meant the truth about the kidnapping, about Eliana and Ryan, about her involvement, could come spilling out. Her carefully constructed world, where she was the victim, the one Tyler would eventually come back to, was shattering around her. The tears now were real, hot and stinging, fueled by a potent cocktail of shock, jealousy, and genuine terror at the implications of being exposed."Tyler... I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes darting around the room, desperate for an escape. "I swear, I don't know where they are. Eliana... she just said she was going to 'take care of things.' She didn't tell me how. And Ryan... he just follows her. I didn't know it would be... this." Her eyes pleaded with him, searching for any sign of the old Tyler, the one who would comfort her, believe her. But there was noth







