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Chapter 70
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2026-06-18 14:31:00Eve’s POV
The message was brief. She could not protect you either. The words hit me like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs and leaving me gasping. My mother. The car accident. The tampered brakes that the mechanic had found and documented and that my father had ignored. Martin had killed her, or had her killed, and now someone was using her memory, her precious heirloom, her own name, to threaten me and my unborn child in the most vici
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Married To My Gay Bestfriend Chapter 71
Eve’s POV "Who placed her there?" Devin asked, though I think we both already knew the answer. "Martin Lovelace. I have spent the past twenty-four hours reviewing every document and record I could find related to Lydia's background and employment history. The professor who gave her a primary reference, a man named Harold Becker, is not merely a former teacher who thought highly of her academic work. He is Martin's cousin. They grew up together in the same town, attended the same schools, and have maintained a close relationship their entire lives. Harold Becker was the one who personally recommended Lydia for the position in my office, vouching for her character and her qualifications and her trustworthiness. Martin has been planning this infiltration for years, Mrs. Cresswell. He placed a mole inside my office specifically to monitor the will and report back to him on every development." The room fell into a profound silence. I could hear the soft hum of the air conditioning sy
Married To My Gay Bestfriend Chapter 70
Eve’s POV The message was brief. She could not protect you either. The words hit me like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs and leaving me gasping. My mother. The car accident. The tampered brakes that the mechanic had found and documented and that my father had ignored. Martin had killed her, or had her killed, and now someone was using her memory, her precious heirloom, her own name, to threaten me and my unborn child in the most vicious way imaginable. I set the rattle down on my desk with exaggerated care because if I did not place it gently I was afraid I might throw it against the wall and watch it shatter. My hands were shaking badly now. Priya was watching me with wide eyes, her professional composure finally crumbling in the face of something so far beyond normal workplace boundaries. "I am calling Mr. Cresswell right now," she said, reaching for her phone. "No." My voice c
Married To My Gay Bestfriend Chapter 69
Eve’s POVI slept poorly the night before the security team arrived, my dreams fragmented and dark, filled with images of my mother's face and the sound of a baby crying somewhere I could not reach. Devin held me through it, his arms wrapped around me in the darkness, his voice a steady murmur against my hair. He told me everything would be alright, that we would find whoever sent the letter and make them pay, that our child would be born healthy and loved and protected from all the darkness that had plagued my family for so long. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to sink into his certainty the way I had learned to sink into his embrace, trusting that he would catch me if I fell. But the fear was a cold knot in my stomach that would not loosen, and when I finally drifted off near dawn, I dreamed again of my mother's handwriting on those yellowed letters and the terrible knowledge that she had seen her death coming and been powerless to stop it.The security team arrived at seven o'c
Married To My Gay Bestfriend Chapter 68
Devin's POVThe letter sat on the coffee table between us like a live grenade, its words still echoing in the silence of the apartment. I had read it seven times now, and each reading revealed nothing new except another layer of cold, calculated menace. The phrasing was careful and precise, almost clinical in its cruelty, as if the author had drafted and redrafted each sentence to maximize the psychological damage while leaving no trace of their identity.I called Marguerite at six in the morning. She answered on the second ring, her voice alert despite the hour. Marguerite Chen was not a woman who slept late or was caught unprepared. She had been the executor of the Lovelace estate for over twenty years, and in all that time she had never once been surprised by the depths of human greed and cruelty. I suspected this would not be the exception."Mr. Cresswell," she said when I explained what had happened. "I'll be there within the hour. Don't touch the letter again. There may be foren
Married To My Gay Bestfriend Chapter 67
Eve's POV The message came three days later. It arrived in a plain white envelope, hand-delivered to our apartment with no return address. The postmark was local. The handwriting was unfamiliar. Inside was a single sheet of paper, typed, unsigned. Congratulations on your pregnancy. It must be wonderful to believe that your troubles are finally over. But you should know that not everyone is celebrating. Your marriage may be legitimate in the eyes of the law, but without a child, you have no claim to the inheritance. The will is very specific on this point. A biological heir, born of the union, before your twenty-seventh birthday. If something were to happen to that child before it draws its first breath, the entire inheritance reverts to the trust. Accidents happen. Pregnancies fail. The world is full of dangers, especially for women who have made as many enemies as you have. Enjoy your happiness while it lasts. It will not last much longer. I read the letter three times. My hand
Married To My Gay Bestfriend Chapter 66
Eve's POVThe weeks that followed were the happiest of my life.I woke every morning to the weight of Devin's arm draped across my waist and the steady rhythm of his breathing against my hair. The pregnancy made me tired in a way I had never experienced before, a bone-deep exhaustion that settled into my body and refused to leave. But it also made everything sharper. The morning light through the bedroom windows seemed more golden. The smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen seemed richer. The sound of Devin humming while he made breakfast, some old song I didn't recognize, seemed sweeter.I was eight weeks along now. The nausea had faded, replaced by a constant low-grade hunger that sent me wandering into the kitchen at odd hours. Devin had learned to keep the refrigerator stocked with my latest cravings. Pickles and ice cream. Salted crackers and fresh mango. A particular brand of raspberry yogurt that I had never cared about before but now couldn't live without. He never complained.
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