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Chapter 35: Flawless Execution
publish date:
2026-09-06 05:16:02
Latest chapter
My Statue Husband Chapter 80: Final Touches UnderStress
VivianThe thin needle bit into the pad of my thumb, drawing a small, bright bead of blood before I could even register the sting.I didn't yell. I didn't drop the heavy length of ivory silk draped across my lap. I just brought my thumb to my mouth, metallic heat coating my tongue, while my eyes stayed fixed on the ticking clock above my worktable.3:42 AM.The runway showcase was in fourteen hours. Fourteen hours until the board, the investors, and every critic in the city stepped into the grand gallery to decide whether my fashion house survived or went under. The entire spring line—the embroidered hems, the tailored boning, the hand-beaten silver trim—sat on dress forms surrounding me like silent, headless ghosts in the dim light of the studio."Viv..."The voice didn't sound like Stan anymore. It sounded like gravel tumbling down an empty well.I set the silver needle down on the pine table, my hands trembling as I wiped them on my apron. "I'm right here," I said, forcing a soft,
My Statue Husband Chapter79:Safe house
VivianThe smell of aged cedar, dry chalk, and machine oil was the first thing that reached me through the dark. It was a craftsman’s scent—a quiet, honest smell that belonged to late nights over drafting tables, not blood on cobblestones or cold stone curses.I dragged Stan through the narrow back alley, my shoulder wedged firmly under his good side. He felt impossibly heavy—a dead weight of bone, muscle, and expanding granite that made every step feel like pulling an anchor out of deep mud. His right boot dragged along the wet gravel, leaving a heavy trench behind us in the dark."Just a few more feet, Stan," I choked out, my voice barely a thread above the freezing night wind. My legs were trembling violently, my hands raw and bloodied where I had kept a desperate grip on his wool coat. "Keep your feet under you. Please."He didn't answer. His head was bowed, his forehead resting heavily against the side of my neck. His breath came in ragged, wet gasps, smelling faintly of crushed
My Statue Husband Chapter 78:The Spreading Stsrlight
VivianThe quiet in the gallery felt less like silence and more like held breath.Every tiny noise seemed amplified tenfold—the faint hum of the climate control overhead, the soft rustle of my jacket, the rhythmic, heavy thud of my own heart against my ribs. I pressed my back flat against the cold marble pillar, squeezing my eyes shut for a second to calm the frantic pulsing in my throat.Four inches away from me, Stan stood frozen in the shadows. He was dressed in dark navy fabric that swallowed the faint moonlight filtering through the high atrium windows. His head was tilted slightly toward the vaulted ceiling, his jaw clamped shut so tightly the muscle in his cheek twitched beneath his skin."Security patrol clears the western wing every twelve minutes," I whispered, barely breathing the words into the space between us. "The keycard for the vault is in the head curator's office at the end of this hall. If we can grab it before the midnight rotation, we get the map and get out with
My Statue Husband Chapter 77:The Midnight Heist
POV: VivianThe smell of stale gasoline and wet asphalt clung to the damp night air, thick enough to leave a bitter coat on the back of my tongue.I crouched behind the rusted outline of a discarded shipping container, my fingers digging so hard into the corrugated metal that my nails throbbed. Fifty yards ahead, bathed in the sickly yellow glare of floodlights, stood the municipal impound facility. Chain-link fencing topped with razor wire encircled the yard, shielding row after row of seized vehicles, locked storage crates, and—somewhere inside crate forty-two—my entire life.Every single handmade garment for my debut runway show was in that crate. Months of raw silk, hand-dyed velvet, and blood-soaked sweat, illegally confiscated by Vance's corrupt city inspectors to ensure my brand was ruined before the morning investors' showcase."You're breathing too fast, Vivian."The voice came from beside me, low and heavily gravelled, sounding less like human speech and more like dry stones
My Statue Husband Chapter 76: Mr Kelvin’s Trape
POV: VivianThe smell of freshly pressed silk and warm steam was usually the only thing that could quiet my racing mind. For three months, this cramped third-floor studio had been my sanctuary, filled with the soft chug-chug of the heavy iron sewing machine, bolts of ivory chiffon, and hundreds of hand-drawn sketches pinned to every inch of plaster wall.Forty-eight hours.In forty-eight hours, the velvet curtains of the National Design Grand Finale would part, and my collection—the six gowns I had poured my sweat, blood, and last remaining savings into—would finally walk the runway. It was my one ticket to freedom. My one chance to prove that I was a designer in my own right, not just a ghostwriter whose talent could be bought and stolen by men in expensive suits.I ran a measuring tape along the waistline of the center-piece gown, a breathtaking gown of dark midnight silk accented with silver embroidery that mirrored ancient runes."It’s perfect, Viv," Stan said softly from the door
My Statue Husband Chapter 75:The Secred Mountain
POV: VivianThe smell of old parchment, damp decay, and decaying leather had lived in my nostrils for forty-eight hours straight.My back screamed in protest as I leaned over the long, oak research table in the basement of the university’s restricted archival wing. Above me, a single hanging bulb flickered, casting jittery, sickly shadows across thousands of brittle pages, handwritten journals, and half-rotted cartography maps that hadn't seen daylight in a century.My eyes were raw, burning with red veins from lack of sleep, but sleep felt like a luxury reserved for a life I no longer owned. Every time I closed my eyes, all I heard was the sickening snap of fracturing stone. All I saw was the grey, calcified slate creeping up Stan’s throat, slowly smothering the warmth of the only man who had ever stood between me and the cold cruelties of the world."Come on..." I whispered, my voice breaking in the quiet gloom. My dust-stained fingers carefully turned the edge of a heavy, leather-b
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