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Chapter 15: The Child He Never Found
公開日:
2026-05-23 11:18:34
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One Night with My Ex-Fiancé’s Ruthless Brother Chapter 15: The Child He Never Found
(Keyla POV) The contractions started at 2 a.m. on a Wednesday, which would have been annoying under any circumstance. Unfortunately, labor did not care about my plans. I called Nora first. It rang six times before going to voicemail, and those six rings scared me more than the contractions had so far. Rain hammered the window, my go-bag waited by the door where it had been since week thirty-four, and for one awful second I thought I might have to do this completely alone. I left a message, hung up, and called a taxi. She called back while I was forcing my shoes on between contractions.“I’m here. I’m here. How far apart?” "Eight minutes. Maybe seven now." "Okay." The sound of movement on her end, fast. "The clinic on Brewer Street, yes? The one we toured?" "Already called them. They're expecting me." "I'm getting on the first flight I can — four hours, maybe five. Can you—" "I'll be fine." I picked up the bag. The cufflink envelope was still at the bottom of the bag wh
One Night with My Ex-Fiancé’s Ruthless Brother Chapter 14: The Name I Gave My Child
(Keyla POV)“Father’s name?”The nurse balanced a clipboard against her hip, pen already moving before my answer had fully landed. She had the kind of efficiency that came from asking the same questions all day and surviving them by not thinking too hard.“Leave it blank,” I said.She noted it without comment, moved to the next field. I watched her hand move down the form and thought about how much a blank space could say if the wrong person cared enough to read it. It could mean unknown, absent, refused, or dangerous. Mine was the last one. The nurse didn’t need to know which one applied here, and I wasn’t going to explain.The appointment should have been routine. Blood pressure first, then weight, then the ultrasound that took longer because the baby had turned himself into a difficult little tenant and the technician needed another angle. The gel was cold enough to make my stomach tighten, and the probe moved in slow, careful arcs while I stared at the ceiling and pretended my bre
One Night with My Ex-Fiancé’s Ruthless Brother Chapter 13: Churchill Blood
(Draxler POV) Three weeks after Keyla disappeared, Adrian finally made the mistake I had been waiting for. The report landed on my desk at 7 a.m. I read it twice before I called Marcus. Adrian had contacted Keyla from an unregistered number. Marcus traced it back to a Churchill family communications account, one that should only be used for internal security matters. Adrian had no reason to touch it. Unless he wanted me to know. Marcus arrived with coffee he hadn’t touched and his tablet already open. “He used the family account deliberately or he’s sloppy,” he said. “Either way, he left a trail.” “He’s not sloppy.” I set the report down. “He wanted me to know he could still reach her.” That was the part that required a moment. Adrian contacting Keyla I could explain as desperation or ego — both were consistent with his pattern. But doing it through a trackable family account, knowing I had access to those logs, knowing I monitored them — that was a message directed at me as m
One Night with My Ex-Fiancé’s Ruthless Brother Chapter 12: Do Not Answer Him
(Keyla POV) The email was still there in the morning. I had half-expected it to disappear overnight, which was stupid. Emails didn’t disappear just because I was too tired to decide what to do with them. Still, for one second after I opened the laptop, I wished the inbox would be empty— It wasn’t. D. Churchill was still there. Same subject. Same three words. Are you safe? My stomach tightened before I even clicked it. I opened it before I could talk myself out of it. The message was short enough to read in one breath. Are you safe? I will not ask you to come back. But if Adrian reaches you, call this number. A phone number sat under the message in international format. I should have closed the laptop right there, but my hand stayed on the trackpad while I read the digits again. I read it once, then again, then a third time because apparently my brain wanted to make sure the words had not changed when I wasn’t looking. I set the laptop beside me, but I didn’t close it. The scr
One Night with My Ex-Fiancé’s Ruthless Brother Chapter 11: Two Lines
(Keyla POV) The first test took three minutes. I stood in the bathroom with my back against the wall and waited for the timer on my phone. When it went off, I looked. Then I put the test face-down in the sink and turned on the tap, not because I needed water, but because my hands needed a job. Two lines. I had bought it from a pharmacy four blocks away, paid cash, and taken the cheapest box on the shelf without reading the brand. The brand didn’t matter. They were all measuring the same thing. The receipt was still in my jacket pocket. Twelve euros and some change that I could not really afford. I turned the tap off and picked up the test again, as if a second look might make it less certain. It didn’t. I put my shoes back on and walked to two more pharmacies on different streets, buying a different brand each time and paying cash at both counters. Came back, used them both, stood in the bathroom a second and third time with the same wall behind me and the same radia
One Night with My Ex-Fiancé’s Ruthless Brother Chapter 10: The First Morning Without My Name
(Keyla POV) The article used my wedding photo. It wasn’t a stolen candid or some blurry shot from across the street. It was the engagement portrait Adrian’s family had commissioned six months ago and handed to the press themselves. Me in a cream dress, hair done, smiling at something off-camera. The caption underneath read: Sources close to the Churchill family describe increasing concern in the weeks prior. The headline was worse: Runaway Bride’s Mental Collapse Shocks Elite Family. I sat on the edge of the rented bed with the laptop open on my knees and read it at 7 a.m. on a Tuesday in a city where nobody knew my face. Thin curtains let in too much grey light. The radiator clicked every few minutes, with or without heat. Nora’s contact had arranged the room for two weeks, prepaid and quiet. It smelled like the previous tenant’s laundry detergent and a floral spray I couldn’t locate. The article barely used my name. Most of the time I was the bride. Once, I became Miss Tamara,
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