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Chapter 45: Now The Hunted [pt. 2]
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2025-06-18 02:53:51
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Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 47: Clean
Rain tapped slowly against the windshield, the sound crisp and rhythmic in the quiet interior of the car. The killer sat behind the wheel, his face veiled in shadow beneath the hoodie he hadn’t yet removed. The dull streetlamp flickered overhead, casting momentary pulses of yellow light into the car's cabin. Through the windshield, he could still see the faint outline of Celeste Marlowe's body crumpled on the damp pavement.He didn’t watch for long.His fingers reached for the burner phone beside him, screen already lit. One tap, then a single message:You're up.He set the phone down and leaned back. Less than a minute passed before headlights appeared in the side mirror. A black van, its engine a low growl, rolled silently up to the scene. It stopped directly in front of her body, blocking the view from the main road. The side door slid open with a quiet clack, and two men stepped out, dressed in dark clothes, gloved hands moving with practiced precision.The killer didn’t need to w
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 46: No More
The wind off the East River howled like a warning.Celeste Marlowe stood at the edge of Pier 19, her coat drawn tight around her frame, the hood casting shadows over her eyes. The dock stretched ahead like a graveyard of forgotten things—graffiti-stained concrete, rusted bollards, broken glass glittering faintly under the waning light. She pulled her phone from her pocket again, checking the time.It was 4:58 p.m now and Devon still wasn’t there.She had arrived early on purpose, not out of excitement but strategy rather. She wanted to watch the area, see who else showed up—that was if anyone did. The air smelled like salt and rust, and the occasional screech of seagulls overhead only made the place feel more desolate and abandoned.She turned slowly, scanning the length of the dock as she did. Beyond the fence behind her, a road curved back toward the city. There were no parked cars. No headlights. Nothing moved. Everything was just eerily still.Her nerves buzzed beneath the surface
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 45: Now The Hunted [pt. 2]
Celeste turned around to look behind her, her heart missed a beat as she did. the man was still there. Leaning against the lamppost like he belonged to the night.Celeste kept walking, her boots loud against the wet pavement. She didn’t run. Didn’t dare look back more than once. But her pulse was a drumbeat, steady and insistent, thrumming beneath her skin.She rounded a corner onto Hawthorne and pulled her hoodie lower over her brow. A coffee shop blinked with flickering neon across the street, but she ignored it. Too exposed. She needed to see if he was really following or if paranoia was playing tricks again.She crossed the street. Two blocks west. One north. No obvious footsteps behind her—but something in her gut wouldn’t unclench.She ducked into a side alley behind a boarded-up bookstore, pausing behind a rusted dumpster. Inhaling slowly, she pulled her phone from her coat pocket and unlocked it with a shaky thumb. The battery was low. Typical. But she didn’t need long.She op
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 44: Thanks for checking in
Annabelle lay in bed the next morning, staring up at the white ceiling of her bedroom. Sunlight crept past the curtains, dust motes dancing in the slanting beams. But none of it warmed her. The world outside continued, indifferent to the confusion unraveling inside her.She touched her lips. They still tingled, as though Devon’s kiss had etched itself into her skin.It wasn’t planned. It hadn’t even felt romantic. It had been brief—so brief—but it carried the weight of everything they hadn’t said since Damian’s death. Grief. Guilt. Loneliness. Maybe even longing. But not love. Not yet. Or maybe not at all.She then turned to her side and hugged a pillow tightly to her chest. Her heart was unsteady, her mind even more so.It wasn’t supposed to be like this.For days, she had clung to Devon like a lifeline, needing his presence just to stay afloat. He was the only one who seemed to see her grief, not tiptoe around it like it was something contagious. But now, everything had shifted.Tha
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 43: Name? Devon. My son.
Benjamin Hamilton stood by the tall window of his study, staring out at the hazy sprawl of Manhattan's skyline. He held a tumbler of whiskey in one hand, untouched, the amber liquid catching the light like molten glass. He hadn’t tasted a drop, not yet. He was listening. To the silence. Something had shifted. It had been creeping up in small doses—missed meetings, vague excuses, texts from Devon that felt mechanical. Benjamin had dismissed them at first. Devon had lost someone. They all had. But the boy was drifting now, and Benjamin could feel it. His phone buzzed on the desk. He checked it. No name. Just the number. Benjamin frowned. Then, with a casual motion, he typed in his son's number and hit dial. It rang twice before Devon picked up. "Dad?" "Good afternoon, Devon," Benjamin said calmly, settling into the leather chair behind his desk. "How are you holding up?" "I'm okay," came the answer. Not convincing, but not weak either. "I noticed you missed the advisory meeting
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter: 42: Now The Hunted
Celeste stared at the screen longer than necessary, the cursor blinking like a taunt. Devon hadn’t responded to her last message—just the silent notification that it had been read. Nothing more. She’d expected this, but still, a part of her hoped for something. Anger. Fear. Anything. Her tiny apartment was dim, lit only by the blue glare of her laptop. The air smelled faintly of takeout and burnt coffee. Piles of unpaid bills cluttered the side table. The lease renewal had been denied two weeks ago—no surprise. She was two months behind. Three years ago, she’d made headlines across the country. Her exposé on Senator Crawley’s son had been her golden ticket—splashing across news sites, guest panel invites, interviews on daytime TV. For one strange, glittering moment, she mattered. Then came the fallout. The retraction. The lawsuits. Her name smeared. And the second article, rushed and sloppily sourced, had been the nail in the coffin. The Crawleys made sure of it. That one mistak
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