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Twenty-four Hours to Fix Your Messs

Author: Lazywriter
last update publish date: 2026-03-23 19:20:59

[Tyler’s POV]

"You’re telling me that in a city with eight million cameras, my sister’s killer cannot be found?"

I slam my palms flat against the cold metal of the interrogation table, staring at the grainy monitor displaying the footage of that faithful night.

"Mr. Rider, please. Sit down." Detective Swordsman didn’t look up from his notepad. He was a man who looked like he’d spent twenty years watching the worst parts of humanity on repeat, and his indifference was starting to feel like an in
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  • Divorced With His Heir In My Belly   A Fresh Start

    I shifted slightly against the high-thread-count sheets, instantly meeting the solid, radiating warmth of the man beside me. Tyler was still asleep, one heavy, scarred arm slung possessively over my waist, anchoring me flush against his side. His sharp jaw was relaxed, the severe lines around his eyes smoothed by a rare, deep sleep.I stayed completely still, just watching him breathe. It was in these fleeting, private moments that I remembered the sheer weight he carried on his broad shoulders. He was trying to dismantle the corrupt, generational rot of his family's empire while simultaneously building a sanctuary for us and the children.Slowly, as if sensing my gaze, Tyler’s dark lashes fluttered open. His eyes, usually so alert and calculating, were warm and heavy with sleep. A low, gravelly hum vibrated against his chest as his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me entirely over him."You're awake," he murmured, his voice a deep, morning rasp that sent a familiar, pleasant th

  • Divorced With His Heir In My Belly   Tangled Sheets

    The ride back to the Hotel was agonisingly long. Tyler didn't say a word. He didn't need to.I sank back against the plush leather seat, my pulse hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my throat as I watched him. Tyler unbuttoned his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the opposite seat, before reaching up to loosen his silk tie. He stripped it away, unfastening the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, exposing the strong, tanned column of his throat.His dark, storm-filled eyes finally locked onto mine, tracking the rapid rise and fall of my chest beneath my white blazer."You are staring, Mr. Rider," I murmured, keeping my voice low and intentionally provocative, leaning just a fraction of an inch closer to him."I am marveling," Tyler corrected, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble that sent a violent shiver straight down my spine. He closed the distance between us, his large hand coming up to gently cup my jaw. His thumb traced the curve of my cheekbone, his touch compl

  • Divorced With His Heir In My Belly   Nail On The Coffin

    The silence in the boardroom was absolute. It was the kind of heavy, suffocating quiet that precedes a catastrophic impact. Miller looked like a man who had just seen a ghost. He stood frozen at the head of the table, his eyes darting frantically between Tyler’s unyielding face and my own composed, icy expression. He swallowed hard, his throat clicking audibly in the dead air."Tyler," Miller finally choked out, his voice entirely stripped of its previous booming authority. He attempted a weak, placating smile, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Tyler, my boy. There is a massive misunderstanding here. If you had just called me, we could have handled this quietly. Privately. As a family.""Do not refer to yourself as family," Tyler said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the room like a serrated blade. He didn't raise his voice. The absolute stillness of his body was infinitely more terrifying than if he had started shouting. "And do not patronize me by a

  • Divorced With His Heir In My Belly   Look Me In The Eye, Coward!

    [SARAH’S]We didn't pull up to the main entrance. At Tyler’s quiet directive, the chauffeur bypassed the bustling front plaza and navigated down a ramp into the secure, subterranean executive parking garage."Miller’s car is already in his reserved spot," Tyler murmured, his dark eyes tracking a silver Bentley parked near the VIP elevators. A cruel, humorless shadow crossed his face. "He actually thinks today is just another quarterly review.""He has no idea we’re even on the continent," I replied softly, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored white blazer. "Let alone in the building.""Exactly," Tyler said, turning to look at me. The absolute trust and partnership in his gaze anchored my racing pulse. "And we are going to let him dig his own grave completely before we push him into it."We bypassed the main lobby entirely, taking a private, biometric-locked elevator straight to the forty-second floor. We weren't heading to the grand, glass-walled boardroom where the European executives

  • Divorced With His Heir In My Belly   Transactional Ghost

    "Let me make this incredibly clear to you," I said, stepping directly into her space. I used my height, letting the sheer, intimidating weight of my presence bear down on her. The lingering, predatory edge I had been saving for Miller began to bleed into my voice. "I don't know if you are simply working the lobby tonight, looking for a deep pocket to pay for your time, or if an old man with a very vested interest in tomorrow's board meeting gave you a retainer to keep me occupied. And frankly, I don't care."Her breath hitched, the color draining slightly from her perfectly rouged cheeks. The realization that I had seen straight through the facade hit her hard."I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, gripping her martini glass tighter. "I'm just a tourist—""You are a liability," I interrupted, my voice a dark, smooth blade. "And you are currently trespassing on my patience. I suggest you take your drink, go back up to the fifth floor, and find another mark. Because

  • Divorced With His Heir In My Belly   Who Sent You, Woman?

    [TYLER]I stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, watching Sarah sleep. She was buried beneath the heavy gold silk sheets, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of her shoulders the only movement in the dimly lit room. She looked entirely at peace, her dark hair fanning out across the white pillows. She had fought me on letting me take the couch, insisting the bed was large enough for us to stay on our respective sides, but the moment her head had hit the mattress, exhaustion had pulled her under.I envied her ability to shut pressure off and act unbothered. My mind, on the other hand, was a violent, churning machine. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was what was going to happen tomorrow. The reason we are in Spain. A familiar, dark pressure began to build behind my ribs. The destructive itch that always preceded a corporate slaughter. I needed to get out of the room before the restless energy radiating off me woke her up.I slipped my suit jacket back on over my untucke

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