Hired My Ex's Sister as Wife のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 311 - チャプター 320

JulianI stared at my phone for what felt like hours, and slowly the screen dimmed, then brightened, and then dimmed again. I felt tired, uncertain, but somehow I felt resolved.There was only one other conversation I needed to have. And so I opened my contacts and scrolled down until I reached my dad’s contact. My thumb hovered over it and trembled slightly. It wasn’t fear of what he’d say that shook me; I’d long stopped hoping for his approval. It was knowing that once I made this call, there’d be no going back.Still, I pressed dial.The line rang twice before his voice came through, sharp and composed.“Julian.”Just hearing him say my name sent a jolt down my spine. There was always something about his tone. It was measured, heavy, the kind that made you straighten without realizing it.“Hey, Dad,” I said, trying to sound calm. “We need to talk.”A brief pause followed, then I heard that low exhale I’d grown up with. The kind that came right before a lecture.“Finally,” he said.

SavannahOkay, check this out. Have you ever had one of those days when everything feels just a little off? Like you woke up fine, but the world around you had shifted half an inch, and nothing quite fit anymore?That’s what the morning felt like. After that night in the warehouse, I couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in my chest. Colleen’s smug grin still played in my head, and his half-truths circled like ghosts I couldn’t name. And Julian…well, he’d gone quiet again. He was there, but not really there, and I could see he was lost somewhere behind those calm eyes that never quite gave anything away.I needed air. I needed space to think. That much was clear, so I slipped out that afternoon and went to a café near the edge of downtown. It was one of those cozy spots that always smelled like cinnamon and rain-soaked pavement, and it was quickly becoming my favorite spot. The chatter was soft, the clinking of cups rhythmic, and for a moment, it felt almost normal. Almost.I sat

SavannahThe coffee shops on Maple always felt quieter in the mornings. It is why I often liked this place. The lighting and atmosphere here felt relieving, like I could shed all my burdens away if only for a moment. The people here were calm. They moved like they had purpose but not urgency. I liked how calming everything was here. It let me think without the city crowding in.I had my laptop open and a notebook beside my cup. But I wasn’t really working. I was pretending to. My fingers tapped the table while my mind ran through names and dates, and maps. Colleen’s files were still in my jacket from the warehouse. I kept looking at them like they were a fable I hadn’t decided to take seriously yet.But then the doorbells chimed, and he walked in. As much as I hated his guts, he did always know how to make an entrance. He was never loud, nor flashy. He just moved through the room with that easy confidence, and when he spotted me, he smiled, and before I could stand up, he was sliding

JulianFor a few moments, I couldn’t move. It felt like I’d been backed into a corner and things were just getting more and more conflicted. I stood there frozen in place, staring at him for a long time, trying to steady the pulse that had started to pound against my throat. There was something about his calmness, his quiet, and unhurried certainty. It was the kind that made people dangerous. The kind that didn’t need to shout to sound like a threat. I could tell because I’d seen it before. But then, finally, I found my voice. “What exactly do you want from me? I bet it’s not just information about the Fords.” I said.He didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, shoulders square, and his eyes tracing the apartment like he was memorizing it. Then his gaze came back to me, steady and cold. “What I want,” he said, his tone flat, “depends on what you’re willing to give.”I felt an anger rise when he said that. It felt like I was being toyed with, and yet I could not do anything abou

JulianHonestly, since my last meeting with that man, I haven’t planned to meet him again. I’d hoped he would disappear like a bad dream, like one of those you wake up from with a pounding heart, swear you’ll forget, but still think about hours later when you’re brushing your teeth. But he didn’t disappear. I guess I wasn’t surprised. People like him always come back when you’re trying to convince yourself you’re out.And so later that morning, I found myself waiting in that same little coffee shop downtown, the one where the barista never remembers my order and always calls me “Jason.” The place smelled like burnt espresso and wet pavement. It was raining again, not heavily, just enough to make you wonder if the sky was trying to apologize for something. I sat by the window, watching the city drag itself through the afternoon, and that’s when he walked in. He looked like someone who could vanish in a crowd and yet command silence in a room. I raised my eyes for a moment, pretending