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CHAPTER 71 — “The Sealed Order”
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2026-01-16 23:47:39
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The Man I Was Meant to Hate CHAPTER 78 — “The Name That Wasn’t There”
Ava's POVThe room is quiet, but my chest is not.I sit at the small desk by the window, papers spread out in front of me like they might rearrange themselves if I stare long enough. Court updates. Arrest summaries. Plea agreements. Sentencing schedules. Names, I have learned to recognise the way you recognise storms on the horizon.I should feel relief. Instead, something itches under my skin.Outside, the street looks harmless. A man walks his dog. A woman laughs into her phone. Life moves on without asking permission. I want to believe I belong to that life now.I scan the pages again.Selene Hart — charged.Three board members — detained.Two shell-company directors — extradited.Four financial officers are under investigation.My finger pauses. I flip back a page. Then forward again. My breath slows. “No,” I said to myself in a low voice.Then I sit up straighter and read every line again, this time slower. My eyes move with care, not hope. I am not searching anymore. I am confir
The Man I Was Meant to Hate CHAPTER 77 — “Unfinished Accounts”
Liam's Point Of ViewI do not tell Ava what I am doing. I don’t need to…That decision settles in my chest the moment I see the photograph again, lying face down on the kitchen table, as it knows what it is. As it knows it does not need to be seen twice to do damage.Ava stands by the window, with his two arms folded, staring out at the street as if she can catch the person who took it just by looking hard enough. Her shoulders are tense, but her voice stays calm when she speaks.“Maybe it’s someone from the press,” she says. “Someone who recognised us.”It is a reasonable thought. It is also wrong. I nod anyway. “Could be.”She glances at me, searching my face. I give her nothing. Not because I want to lie to her, but because I know that once she sees what I see, she will move closer to me instead of staying back. And I am not ready to let that happen again.I’m going to make a call, I say lightly. “Just to check if anyone else got anything similar.”She hesitates. “You’ll tell me if
The Man I Was Meant to Hate CHAPTER 76 — “The Day After Living”
Ava's POVThe morning does not arrive loudly. There are no sirens. No phones vibrating on the bedside table. No sharp knock on the door that means someone has found us again.Then Morning slips in quietly, as if it is unsure whether it is allowed to stay.Light rests across the wall in thin gold lines. Dust floats through it, slow and soft. I wake before Liam, and for a moment, I do not move. I lie there and listen.There is breathing beside me. Steady. Warm. Real. That alone still feels like a gift I do not fully trust.I turn my head and look at him. Liam is lying on his back with his arm over his head and the other on his chest. He has a faint bruise towards his collarbone with yellow edges.His cheeks are touched by his eyelashes. The lines of his features are relaxed when he is asleep, and he appears younger. He does not appear like a man who has led an impactful life any longer. He is no longer like a person who might disappear in a flash.I allow my fingers to touch the sheet b
The Man I Was Meant to Hate CHAPTER 75 — “The Life We Choose”
Ava's Point Of ViewThe second thing I notice once I wake up is how quiet everything is. However, it is not that creepy sort of silence or that suspenseful quiet before something truly significant. It is so quiet that it really simply sits on you rather than crashes on you.It is morning, and the thin hospital curtains, all pale gold, are streaming through. It is dropped on the wall, the floor, or the edge of the bed. It is as though the world is apologetic.It hurts me in my body, but not the frightening pain. It is more of a protracted ache, as in when you are humping a heavy backpack the whole day, and it ends.I take a slow breath. Nothing’s going to explode. No sirens, no yelling. Only the muffled buzz of a machine and a person taking in breath.I turn my head.Liam is sleeping on the chair beside my bed. His head is down, arms crossed, hands still curled, like he may spring up immediately if it is necessary. Half his shoulders are covered with a blanket. He looks worn out. Not b
The Man I Was Meant to Hate CHAPTER 74 — “What Survives”
Liam's Point Of ViewThe proof doesn’t explode the world; it doesn’t arrive with sirens or shouting or glass breaking. It moves quietly like a sickness finally named.I watch it happen from a hard chair in a windowless room while men and women in plain clothes move in and out with folders under their arms. No one looks at us the way they used to. No fear. No hunger. Just focus. That’s how I know it’s working.Ava sits beside me, wrapped in a grey sweater someone gave her. Her hands rest in her lap, her fingers curled inward like she’s holding onto something invisible. She hasn’t spoken for a while. Not because she can’t, but because she’s spent.I don’t touch her yet. I’ve learned when she needs space. I just stay close enough that she can feel me there.Across the room, a federal prosecutor flips through the envelope Ava carried like it was a heart. Pages slide free. Names. Accounts. Shell companies are layered so deeply that they almost look clean.One of the agents exhales slowly.
The Man I Was Meant to Hate CHAPTER 73 — “The Last Loyalist”
Ava's Point Of ViewThe first thing I notice is the silence. Not the good kind. Not the calm-after-the-storm kind. This silence feels held, the air is waiting for something to break it.Liam’s hand is still wrapped around mine as we step out of the café. The street looks the same as it always does, and the cars are parked too close to the curb, a cracked sidewalk, and a streetlight that flickers even in daylight. But my body knows better now. It knows how to listen.The car is still there, the one that followed us… And the second one too.I don’t look at them. I don’t let my face change. I focus on breathing. In. Out. Slowly. Human. Real.We’re not going back home, Liam murmurs without turning his head.I nod once. “I knew.”We walk past our street. Keep going. Toward the old train underpass, where the noise echoes, and cameras don’t work right. Toward movement. And toward choice.That’s when I feel someone watching us from the other side of the road.Not the cars. Not the men who wan
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