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Encourage
Last Updated:
2025-04-04 17:10:09
Latest chapter
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Kiss
Viola McCoy I finally pull back from the hug, breathless and shivering. Rain drips from Logan’s hair, his eyes glossy and dark with worry. His jacket is soaked, clinging to his broad shoulders, and his fingers twitch at his sides like he’s not sure if he should reach for me again.“What are you doing here?” I whisper, my voice rasped from the storm of panic that had only just begun to settle.“I was worried about you,” he says, his gaze searching mine.I step aside, my fingers trembling as I reach for the door and lock it behind him with an audible click. My whole body is humming from fear and adrenaline and something I can’t name when he’s near. I grab the towel from the dresser and hand it to him wordlessly.He runs it through his hair in slow, rough movements, droplets still falling to the hardwood floor. I stare a second too long before blinking myself back to reality.“Did you drive in this rain?” I ask, crossing my arms. I don’t mean for it to sound like I’m scolding him,
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Rescue
Viola McCoy I’m curled up by the window, knees drawn to my chest, drowning in Logan’s hoodie. It’s huge on me—swallows my whole frame—but that’s exactly why I brought it. It smells like him. Still. That warm, musky cologne he always wears, like cedarwood and something a little darker. Masculine. Safe.I breathe it in again. Deep. Like it’s oxygen.The rain hasn’t let up since last night. It’s soft now, more like a hush against the glass, but every so often the wind picks up and rattles the panes, like the weather can’t decide if it’s mourning or angry. The sky outside is gunmetal gray, streaked with silver. It’s quiet here. For most of the day, that peace has been a comfort. I’ve needed it. Needed to disappear. Needed to feel like I’m not someone's wife, not someone's problem, not trapped in a life I keep pretending is fine. I didn’t want to answer to anyone. Not Julian. Not even Logan.But now…I hear the bell.A soft ding. Room service maybe. I didn’t order anything, but ma
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Searching
Logan Reynolds. I’m pacing.Back and forth across my office, wearing down the Persian rug with every step. My jaw’s tight. My palms are damp. Viola’s phone has been off since last night—last night—and I’ve gone from frustrated to worried to this barely-contained kind of panic that’s starting to settle in my chest like cement.Twenty-four hours.No calls. No texts. No damn read receipts. Just silence.I tried Amirah this morning—twice. Sent messages. Called. Even dropped by her place like some lunatic boyfriend from a bad rom-com. Nobody answered. The lights were off. No sound. No trace. I even checked the mail slot like some detective trying to piece shit together from shadows.It’s not like her. Or her either.So I did what any desperate man would do—I pulled some strings. I asked one of my guys in digital to dig up where Amirah works. He said he’d get back to me in an hour.That was six hours ago.I glance at the clock. 6:57 p.m.I grip the edge of my desk, knuckles whitening.
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Aspenwood Hill Resort
Viola McCoy I place the last jacket in my bag—the soft cream one with the oversized collar I almost didn’t bring. It still smells faintly like lavender and airport perfume. I smooth it once before folding it neatly. This is it. Three days back in Chicago and I’m already packing up again, but this time… it’s just me.No Julian.No Logan.No chaos.Just me.Amirah walks into the room holding a scarf. It’s navy blue.“You’re gonna need this,” she says, like she already knows where I’m going before I do. She tucks it into the corner of my suitcase without waiting for me to answer.I smile at her. “Thanks.”She crosses her arms. “So you’re really not going to tell Logan?”I let out a soft sigh and kneel down, zipping my suitcase slowly, as if maybe dragging it out will make this conversation vanish.“You know how he can be,” I say quietly. “If I tell him, he’ll want to come. Or he’ll show up anyway.”“Yeah…” Amirah nods, her lips pursing. “I get it. But what if he comes looking for
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Freedom?
Viola McCoy I finally pull away from Logan’s hug.His warmth lingers on my skin like sunlight after a long winter. I ctually feel safe. Like nothing’s going to jump out from the shadows and pull me under. I sit down on the edge of the bed. Logan stands there for a moment, searching my face. Then he says gently, “I’ll make you a cup of tea.”I nod.He disappears into the small hotel kitchenette, and I’m left alone with the soft hum of the mini fridge and the dull ache behind my eyes. I lean back against the pillows, pulling the hotel blanket around me. Still, I can’t stop thinking about what I told Amirah.The guilt swells in my chest like a balloon.I told her—between sobs and silence—that when we get back to Chicago, I want to take a few days for myself. To disappear. Just a little. Just long enough to clear my head. No noise. No men. No past. Just me, a new city maybe, a quiet hotel, something warm and still. But I haven’t told Logan yet. I don’t want to. I already know he’ll
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Stay
Viola McCoy My heart’s pounding as we near the ballroom doors. Susan and Fred are gone. Kendrick too. And I should be relieved, but all I feel is this rush of nerves flooding my chest like carbonation, bubbling, biting, impossible to contain.We’re almost there, just steps away from pretending everything’s normal again, when I reach out and touch Amirah’s arm.“You go in first,” I murmur.She glances at me, confused. Her lashes are still damp. She blinks, then nods and smooths her gown like she’s putting on armor. She disappears through the door.I grab Logan’s hand and tug him down another hallway, away from the light and noise. My heels echo against the marble, click-clack, click-clack, but my steps are shaky. My palms are sweating. There’s an ache forming behind my ribs that feels too much like guilt.I find an unused lounge tucked behind a staircase. The lighting is soft. There’s a velvet armchair in one corner and a low credenza stocked with first aid. Cicily keeps this pl
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Side
Viola McCoyMy head is pounding as my eyes flutter open. Light filters through the curtains in soft golden streaks. My mouth tastes stale, and there's a dull ache at the base of my skull, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. It takes me a moment to piece together where I am, why I’m here, and why my chest feels so heavy. I sit up slowly, the world tilting for a second before it steadies. The room smells faintly of cologne—Logan’s cologne. That clean, masculine scent still lingers in the air like he never left. He brought me back last night. That part I remember. His arms around me, solid and warm. The way I melted into his chest.My gaze shifts, and I freeze.Julian stands by the dresser in a crisp white suit and tie, straightening his cuffs. His reflection in the mirror is calm, almost pleased. Like nothing happened. Like everything is fine.My mouth is dry as I ask, “Where are you going?”He turns, adjusting his tie, eyes unreadable. “You’re awake?”I nod, my stomach churning w
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Believe Him
Viola McCoy Morning comes slowly, like the sun is reluctant to rise after all the darkness it witnessed last night.I open my eyes to the faint golden light filtering in through the heavy curtains. My throat is dry. My limbs feel like sandbags. I don’t know how long I’ve slept, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. There’s a dull ache across my temples and a soreness in my chest that spreads like a bruise beneath my skin.I don’t want to move.I don’t want to see the world.I pull the blanket closer to my chin and curl tighter into the sheets that still smell faintly of detergent and Logan. My heart sinks when I realize I’m still wearing the robe from last night, and beneath it, nothing else. I press my face into the pillow, and a fresh wave of tears sting the corners of my eyes.I’ve never felt this... small.Not even on the worst nights with Julian. Not even when I cried in the shower after one of his biting insults or the days I stared at myself in the mirror trying to find t
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Cared For
Logan Reynolds Viola breaks down in the hallway.It happens so fast, it’s like watching someone snap from the inside out—quiet, brittle, then crumbling all at once. Her knees hit the carpet like she doesn’t feel the pain, and her hands tremble as they cover her face. I watch her whole body heave, like the sobs are ripping their way out from somewhere deep inside her, places I’ve only ever guessed at.I want to kill him.My fists are still tight, still itching for his throat. I’ve never wanted to end someone the way I want to end Julian right now. But I can’t think like that. Not with her here. Not with her shaking like she’s barely holding on.I kneel beside her. “Vi…” My voice is low.She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t stop crying.I touch her shoulder gently. “Do you want to go to the hospital?”She shakes her head immediately. “No.”Her voice is hoarse. Fragile. I hear the no, but I still hesitate. My gut says she should be looked at—physically, emotionally—but her eyes dart up
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