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Chapter Seven
Veröffentlichungsdatum:
01.04.2026 22:48:33
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Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe Chapter Thirteen
The world didn't end with a bang; it ended with the sound of grinding teeth—the screech of steel girders screaming against their concrete sockets as the Sterling Tower succumbed to gravity. I was falling, a chaotic tumble into a void of drywall dust and severed electrical cables. My stomach lurched, not just from the drop, but from the instinctive, primal need to protect the life inside me."Grace!"The voice was a jagged tear in the roar of the collapse. A hand, rough and calloused, slammed into my wrist, nearly dislocating my shoulder. I swung violently, my feet dangling over a jagged pit where the server room floor used to be.I looked up through the haze of gray powder.It was Ethan. His face was a map of fresh lacerations, his eyes bloodshot and wild. He was anchored to a structural pillar that had somehow remained upright, his muscles bulging as he held my entire weight against the pull of the abyss."Don't... let... go," he wheezed, his teeth bared in an animalistic snarl of ef
Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe Chapter Twelve
The sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard—a deep, tectonic groan that vibrated through the soles of my feet as the Sterling Tower’s structural integrity screamed under the first stage of the demolition. Dust filtered down from the recessed lighting, turning the pristine white room into a hazy, dreamlike tomb."Julian!" my sister screamed, recoiling from the bed as the floor tilted. She reached for the silk tie of her robe, her eyes darting toward the door. "Julian, it’s me! She’s the imposter! She’s the one who tried to kill us!"Julian stood in the doorway, the heavy fire axe trembling in his grip. His face was a mask of gore and confusion, the bandages over his brow unraveling like a funeral shroud. He looked at my sister, then at me—strapped to the bed, helpless, wearing the same face, the same fear."I saw the monitor," Julian rasped, his voice thick with the smoke of the building’s failing systems. "I saw her touch your face... like you were a piece of meat. My Grace... my Gra
Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe Chapter Eleven
The rain had turned into a cruel, stinging sleet that slicked the alleyway stones, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the absolute frost settling in my marrow. I stared at the man stepping out of the shadows.He looked older, his hair silvered at the temples and his face etched with lines of a life lived in the dark, but the eyes were unmistakable. They were my eyes. The same mahogany depth, the same stubborn tilt of the brow. Arthur Hart. The man I had wept for as a ten-year-old girl. The man whose "closed casket" funeral had been the first great lie of my life."Father?" the word felt like a shard of glass in my throat.Beside me, the real Ethan—the battered, mud-stained man who had bled for me tonight—stepped forward, his arm shielding my stomach. "Grace, don't. It’s another double. It has to be."Arthur Hart smiled, and the gesture was so familiar it made my knees buckle. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, tarnished silver locket. He held it open. Inside wa
Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe Chapter Ten
The steering wheel felt like ice beneath my palms. My breath hitched as I stared at the jumbotron across the street, the giant LED screen flickering with the image of a nightmare. There he was—Ethan Wolfe. The sharp, arrogant tilt of his head, the way he adjusted his cufflinks with that unbearable precision, and the way he leaned in to whisper something into the ear of the woman wearing my face.Beside me, the passenger seat was still warm. The real Ethan—or the man I believed was the real Ethan—had just vanished into the woods to lead the police away."No," I whispered, my voice a broken rasp against the windshield. "It’s impossible."I looked at the screen again. The "Ethan" on television turned to the cameras, his smile as cold and polished as a shark’s. He looked healthy. He looked unbothered. He didn't look like a man who had spent the night weeping over his brother’s wreckage or shielding my body from a security turret.The sirens behind me grew louder, a chorus of blue and red
Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe Chapter Nine
The rain turned into a freezing sleet that stung my skin, but I couldn't feel it. I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, at the woman who wore my face like a stolen garment. She adjusted her designer lapel—a piece from my own autumn collection—and boarded the helicopter where a broken Julian lay."Grace?" Ethan’s voice was a jagged whisper. He was looking from the screen to me, his hands still stained with the soot of the wreckage. "You told me you were an only child. You told me the Harts were gone.""I was," I choked out, the bile rising in my throat. "Eleanor told me my twin was stillborn. She gave me the death certificate when I was twenty. I kept it in my jewelry box for years. It was the only thing I had left of a sister I never knew.""She didn't just hide her," Ethan said, the horror dawning on him. "She trained her. Look at the way she moves. That’s not a sister, Grace. That’s a replacement."The helicopter’s blades began to blur on the screen, a low hum that seemed to v
Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe Chapter Eight
The shockwave from the explosion rattled the reinforced glass of the master suite, a dull, heavy thud that felt like it had detonated inside my own ribcage. The orange glow of the fireball painted the falling rain in shades of blood and rust, reflecting off Ethan’s face."Julian!" Ethan’s voice was a guttural rip of agony. He threw his entire weight against the bedroom door, the solid oak groaning but refusing to yield. "Julian, no! Open this door! Grace, call someone! Call the police!"I lunged for my phone on the nightstand, my fingers trembling so violently I nearly dropped it. I swiped at the screen, but the display was dead. Not out of battery—the screen was a flat, mocking black with a single, glowing red icon in the center: a wolf’s head."Signal jammer," I whispered, my voice lost in the wail of the house alarm. "She’s cut us off. Ethan, she’s cut off everything."Ethan stopped slamming against the door. He turned, his breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. His eyes were wi
Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe Chapter Six
The iron gates of the Wolfe Blackwood Estate groaned as they swung shut behind us, a sound like a prison cell locking into place. Upstate New York was a different world—cold, silent, and suffocatingly private. The manor stood like a gothic sentinel against the jagged treeline, miles away from the p
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