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Chapter 25: Midnight and Maybe
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2025-07-15 02:21:09
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Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 25: Midnight and Maybe
Sleep was a traitor. The comfortable exhaustion from the beach walk, the surprisingly good pasta, the easy silence – it had all evaporated. Now, moonlight painted silver stripes across my ceiling, and the rhythmic crash of the waves felt less like a lullaby and more like the insistent ticking of a clock I couldn’t stop.Adam Lancaster.His name echoed in the quiet room, tangled with the scent of salt and olives that still lingered faintly. The image of him, sleeves rolled up, focused on chopping garlic, the almost-shy smile when he caught me watching… it had replaced, momentarily, the ghosts of St. Mary’s and Papa’s uniform. And that was the problem.I wasn’t supposed to see him like that. Not the competent cook, the quiet companion on the beach, the man who knew where to find the greenest sea glass. I was supposed to see the Lancaster heir. The product of poison. The reason for my cage. Catching glimpses of someone else… someone who made a surprisingly good puttanesca and whose finge
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 34: Salt,Sun and surprises
The world didn’t magically right itself. The nightmares still lurked, shadows at the edge of sleep. The memory of Papa’s uniform, Eve’s name on his phone, the phantom taste of Thorazine – they were ghosts haunting the sunlit rooms. But something shifted. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion after the purge. Maybe it was the devastating finality of whispering that accusation into the silence – "You were supposed to be different" – and having nothing left to scream. Or maybe, just maybe, the relentless California sun, pouring through the massive windows day after day, began to bake out the deepest chill.I woke up one morning, not to the crushing weight of dread or the acidic tang of nausea, but to an unfamiliar sensation: quiet. Not the terrified stillness of hiding, but a fragile, tentative peace. My body still felt like it had been run over, but the fever had broken. The tremors were fainter. The urge to vomit was a distant memory.I ventured out of my room. Not fleeing, not confronting
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 33: The Ashes of "supposed to"
The slam of the door wasn’t just sound. It was the final seal on the tomb. Papa was gone. Called back to Eve. Back to the driver’s seat of the life that had run me over. The uniform, the cap clutched in his hand, the fleeting look of sorrow drowned by obedience – it was the last snapshot before the door closed, cutting off the light, cutting off hope.He left. He alwaysleft. Left Mama. Left me. Left me to the Lancasters. Left me broken on a cold, polished floor because Eve Lancaster summoned her chauffeur.Adam stood frozen. A statue carved from guilt and helplessness. I felt his stare, heavy as the Thorazine fog still clinging to the edges of my mind, but I couldn’t lift my head. My forehead pressed against my knees, the rough denim of Adam’s borrowed sweatpants the only real texture. The world was reduced to the hammering of my own heart against my ribs, the phantom taste of bile, and the suffocating scent of salt air that suddenly smelled like St. Mary’s antiseptic.What did you ex
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 32: A driver at the door
The cool cloth Adam pressed to my forehead felt like ashes. His whispered pleas – "Please, Lucia, just a sip"– grated like sandpaper on raw nerves. I turned my face away, burying it in the pillow that smelled faintly of salt and despair. Trust was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not for him. Not for anyone. My body was a battlefield – Thorazine withdrawal waging war against fever, nausea, and a bone-deep exhaustion that felt like drowning. My mind was worse: a minefield of white walls, Eve’s smile, Vargas’s needles, and the crushing weight of knowing everyone lied.Adam retreated, the silence heavy with his frustration. I heard him pacing in the living area, the low thrum of his voice a distant, angry vibration against the ocean’s roar. He was talking to someone. Dread, cold and slick, coiled in my gut. Who could he call? Another Lancaster fixer? Vogel? Panic clawed its way up my raw throat. I strained to listen, but the words were muffled, lost beneath the pounding in my head.Then, the
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 31: Silent Screams
The cool cloth on my forehead felt like a lie. A tiny island of relief in an ocean of poison and betrayal. Adam’s demand – "Tell me exactly what they gave you"– still vibrated in the air, heavy with the promise of violence I couldn't summon the energy to care about. Retribution? What good was revenge when my own body felt like enemy territory? I turned my head away from the water glass he offered, the movement sending fresh shards of pain through my skull. My throat was raw sandpaper. Talking was agony. Thinking was a minefield. Words were landmines primed to detonate memories I couldn’t face. He hovered, a tense silhouette against the late afternoon light slanting through the window. His earlier gentleness had evaporated, replaced by a frustrated helplessness that radiated off him like heat. He’d carried basins, wiped sweat, held back my hair. Now, faced with the fortress of my silence, he was adrift. "Lucia," he tried again, his voice strained. "You need to drink. You need streng
Married To The Son Of Sin Chapter 30:The Poison's Sting.
Adam’s fevered whisper – "She didn't jump" – echoed in the hollows of my skull long after I stumbled back to my room. It coiled around the remnants of the Thorazine still lurking in my veins, a chilling counterpoint to the chemical fog. Sleep, when it finally came, wasn’t rest. It was a drowning descent into fractured nightmares: white walls closing in, Eve’s crimson smile, the cold bite of restraints, and always, the sound of a body hitting pavement far below.I woke to sunlight stabbing my eyes like shards of glass. My head pounded with a vicious, nauseating rhythm that seemed to sync with the distant crash of waves. The simple act of opening my eyes sent the room tilting violently. Sweat plastered the borrowed pajamas to my skin, but beneath it, a deep, bone-aching chill had taken root. The Thorazine, held at bay by adrenaline and terror, was claiming its due.A moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. The sound triggered a wave of nausea so intense it doubled me over. I barely
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