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chapter 404

Autor: Deedson
last update Data de publicação: 2026-10-02 16:57:39

Point of View: Alexander

“Dad, I am going to ask you once, and I need you to look at me. Who is the man in that photograph?” I had never used that voice with my father before.

We were in his study. The door was shut. Naomi had gone to the guest house with Marcus to look at the old company albums, and Elena had gone with her, because Elena trusted nobody to walk a stranger through our family alone. That left me with my father and the smell of old books.

Richard sat in his leather chair with a bl
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  • The Billionaire's Secret Bride   chapter 407

    Point of View: Elena“I am not going to ask you again, Teresa. I am going to wait. I will sit here all night if I have to.” My hands were steady. My heart was not.Teresa’s kitchen smelled of ginger and warm bread. It was ten o’clock at night. Rain tapped on the window. She sat in her rocking chair by the stove with a quilt over her knees, and she would not meet my eyes. Alexander had asked me to do this alone. Teresa trusted me more than she trusted him. He had gone to sit with Richard instead, the letter folded in his pocket like a live coal.“I do not know what you want me to say,” Teresa said.“The truth.”“I have told you the truth.”“You told us the truth about the trunk. You did not tell us about the song.”Her rocking stopped.“Seven years ago you sang a lullaby at the dinner table,” I said. “A lamp in a window. A road that always led home. Julian asked where it came from, and you said your mother sang it. But today I found a photograph of Eleanor with a man who wore a ring ca

  • The Billionaire's Secret Bride   chapter 406

    Point of View: Alexander“Before you accuse me of anything,” Naomi said, “I want to tell you why Priya Shah did not speak to me for four years.” She set down her coffee, and her hands were not steady.We sat in the sunroom again, but this time it was crowded. Elena had her back straight and her chin up. Marcus leaned in the doorway with his arms folded. Priya’s face glowed on my phone, propped against the sugar bowl, small and pale, her video call connection stuttering. And Naomi sat in the center of it all like a woman at her own trial.“Go on,” I said.“I used to work with Priya at the paper.” She looked at the screen. “We were close. And then I wrote a story I should not have written. It exposed a source who trusted me. The source lost their job. Priya was the one who asked me to retract it, and I refused.”“You refused,” Priya said quietly from the phone.“She only forgave me last spring,” Naomi said. “I thought I was right. I thought the truth mattered more than the person.” Naom

  • The Billionaire's Secret Bride   chapter 405

    Point of View: Elena“You went without me,” I said, and my voice did not sound like mine. “You went alone, in the dark, and you did not call.” Alexander stood in our kitchen at midnight with his coat still on.I had not slept. I had sat at this table for three hours with a cold cup of tea, watching the clock and the black window and the empty driveway. When his headlights finally swept across the glass, I felt something both too tired for anger and too furious to cry.“I should have called,” he said.“Yes.”“I did not want to wake you.”“I was awake.”“I did not know that.”“You did not ask.” I stood up. “Seven years, Alexander. Seven years of being partners. And the first time something real knocks on our door, you walk out of it like a man stepping off a cliff, and leave me to find out from Mr. Okafor’s text message.”He flinched. “He texted you?”“He has my number. He has had it since the day I took over the school. He says he is sorry he took the money.”“Elena.”“Do not say my na

  • The Billionaire's Secret Bride   chapter 404

    Point of View: Alexander“Dad, I am going to ask you once, and I need you to look at me. Who is the man in that photograph?” I had never used that voice with my father before.We were in his study. The door was shut. Naomi had gone to the guest house with Marcus to look at the old company albums, and Elena had gone with her, because Elena trusted nobody to walk a stranger through our family alone. That left me with my father and the smell of old books.Richard sat in his leather chair with a blanket over his knees. His hands lay on the armrests, thin as dry twigs. For a long moment he stared at the cold fireplace.“You think I lied,” he said.“Naomi says you did. Yesterday and today.”“She is a very sharp woman.”“That is not an answer.”“No.” He smiled sadly. “It is not.”“Dad.”“His name was Gideon Marsh.” The words came out slowly, as if each one weighed something. “He was a friend of Eleanor’s. Her oldest friend. He lent money to this family when no bank in the city would. I never

  • The Billionaire's Secret Bride   chapter 403

    Point of View: Elena“You do not need to be afraid of me, Mrs. Sterling. I only need you to be honest.” Naomi Reyes smiled, and somehow that made my heart pound harder.She sat in the glass sunroom with her hands folded over a thin leather folder. She was forty or so, with short silver streaked hair, black boots, and the steady, unhurried eyes of a person who had spent her life waiting for others to speak first. A deep green scarf with a thread of gold along the edge lay folded over the arm of her chair. Alexander had gone to fetch Richard. I was alone with her, and Claire had finally been bribed upstairs with a cartoon.“What do you know about Box 12?” I asked.“Very little. That is why I am here.” She set the folder on the table. “Two months ago, I received a letter. No name. No return address. It said that if I wanted to understand Eleanor Sterling, I should look in the Delancey Theater, in the left side boxes, behind a brass plate that is not marked. I went. The plate was there. T

  • The Billionaire's Secret Bride   chapter 402

    Point of View: Alexander“Daddy, if you could have anything in the whole world, what would it be?” Claire asked, and every bit of the sleepy breakfast kitchen went still around us.She was seven years old. She sat on the counter stool with her legs swinging, a spoon dripping oatmeal into her lap. She had a gap where her front tooth used to be and a ponytail that refused every ribbon Elena owned. She looked at me as though the answer might change the weather.“Anything?” I said.“Anything.”“A day with no meetings.”“That is boring.”“It is very exciting to a grown up.” I took the spoon from her hand. “What would you want?”“A dog.”“No.”“A small dog.”“No.”“A dog that does not shed.”“That is not a real dog,” Elena said from the stove, without turning around. “That is a stuffed animal with ambition.”Claire giggled. I laughed too. It was a Thursday in October, seven years since the night Dr. Patel took off her surgical cap, and I was standing in the same house where the whole family

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