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Chapter 50: Straight to voicemail.
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2025-06-18 19:29:20
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Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 51: My Father—Is He Alright?
Annabelle had barely ended the call before she was out the door. Her purse dangled loosely from her shoulder, nearly slipping off as she fumbled for her car keys. Her hands shook, her breath unsteady. It wasn’t like her father to ignore her calls. Especially not three back-to-back ones. And Rita’s voice on the other end of the line—polite but tight—hadn’t done anything to calm her nerves. He was there, in the office. Or at least he had been. Why hadn’t he picked up? She climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut harder than necessary. Her fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel as the engine roared to life. The city spun around her, a chaotic blur of motion and noise, but all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears. She didn’t bother checking the traffic updates or tuning the radio to distract herself. Her focus was razor-sharp, and yet her mind reeled. God, what if something had happened? She tried to reason with herself, but logic wasn’t winning.
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 50: Straight to voicemail.
Annabelle leaned back against the plush cushions of the living room sofa, a steaming mug of chamomile tea resting between her hands. She hadn’t planned to call her father, but the silence between them had stretched too long. Ever since Damian’s funeral, Hugh Lawson had retreated into a fortress of his own making—distant, unreachable. Maybe he was grieving in his own way, but it unsettled her. Something about it felt... wrong. Her thumb hovered over the phone screen before she finally tapped on his contact. One ring. Two. Three. Voicemail. She frowned, biting the inside of her cheek. She called again. Still nothing. A third attempt went straight to voicemail. Her fingers gripped the phone a little tighter. Hugh Lawson wasn’t fond of texting, sure—but he always answered her calls. Even on the worst of days. This wasn’t like him. With a tight breath, she dialed the office line. It rang twice before a familiar voice came through—calm and professional. "Hi, this is Rita speaking."
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 49: No One
Morning filtered in through the tall windows of Hugh Lawson’s office, casting long slants of gold across his oak desk. The light touched everything—his leather chair, the rows of framed awards, the thick rug beneath his feet—but not the hollow in his chest. That emptiness had stayed untouched, undisturbed, since the day Damian died. The headlines had faded. So had the whispers. The funeral had passed, the condolences stopped arriving, and the silence afterward was almost louder than the grief. He stood with his back to the door, one hand wrapped around a half-full tumbler of Glenlivet, the other resting against the edge of the glass pane. His gaze, however, wasn’t on the skyline. It was fixed across the room, on a portrait that hung quietly above the fireplace. Laura. Her painted eyes followed him no matter where he stood, her soft smile frozen in time. God, how he’d loved her. Even now, he still reached for her in his sleep. But she wasn’t what haunted him most. It was Damian. “
Forbidden Desires: Falling For My Fiance's Brother Chapter 48: Not While He Breathed
Three days before the phone call that would end a life, Hugh Lawson sat alone in his study, firelight flickering across the hardwood floor like ghosts of decisions he hadn’t yet made. The storm outside was a whisper compared to the one inside him. He held his phone in one hand, unmoving, the name on the screen glowing like an omen: Brian Tellis. His troubleshooter. Brian had once worked inside a federal cybercrimes division before jumping ship to offer private services to men like Hugh—men who needed problems solved with discretion and finality. Hugh answered. "What have you found?" Brian’s voice was flat, clinical. "Her name is Celeste Marlowe. Independent journalist. Real name: Cecelia Marris. Changed her name in 2021 after a court settlement involving a politician in D.C. She has a history of manipulation. You could call her an opportunist. She gets close to powerful people looking for leaks. Studies them, then flips the story." "What about Damian?" "She saw them toget
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
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 sur
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