LOVE HIS ENEMY: My Husband's Downfall のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

ElizabethI’m pacing the study, my heels clicking against the wooden floor. The sound echoes in the otherwise silent room, but it does nothing to calm me. My hands are trembling, my heart racing so fast I can feel it pounding in my throat. I keep replaying the moment over and over in my mind, the words that spilled from Christopher’s declaration. “Divorce Agreement. Full custody of Edward awarded to the Father.How dare he? After everything he’s put me through?After all the cheating, the lies, and the bruises he left on my body?And to bring his mistress Celeste into our home, as though she belongs here, as though she has the right to witness this? My nails dig into the palm of my hand as I fight back the tears burning in my eyes.But these aren’t tears of heartbreak. No, that part of me—whatever love I had left for Christopher—died a long time ago.These tears are born of anger, a rage so fierce I feel it will consume me. I hear the heavy thud of footsteps approaching, and my b

ChristopherElizabeth looks even paler now.Her dark hair fans out against the blood-stained rug, her face motionless, her body eerily still.My eyes keep darting to her neck, where faint bruises—the unmistakable imprint of my hands—are beginning to form. I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears, deafening me.How did it come to this?“Explain, Christopher.” My mother’s sharp voice cuts through the chaos in my mind.Celia stands with her arms crossed, her cold blue eyes fixed on me, demanding answers.I open my mouth, but no words come out.I swallow hard, my throat dry and scratchy.“I... I came home,” I begin, my voice trembling. “We found her in the study.”“We?” she repeats, raising an eyebrow.“Celeste and I,” I admit, feeling a pang of guilt as I glance at the woman who’s caused just as much trouble as I have.“And?” Celia prompts, her tone growing more impatient.“I gave her the divorce papers,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward Elizabeth’s crumpled form. “She... she lost it. Star

ChristopherI pull up to the driveway, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles ache.The house looks eerily pristine, almost too perfect, like something out of a staged photo. It’s the same house, the same driveway, the same front porch—but the heaviness, the darkness that had stained this place, weighs me down.The bannister in the corridor—where the wood had splintered under Elizabeth’s weight when she fell—is freshly fixed.The bloodstains that were streaked across the tiles are gone, scrubbed away so completely it’s as if they never existed.It’s jarring.Stepping inside the living room, I pause. The air smells like lemons and fresh paint. Too clean. The weight on my chest hasn’t lifted, though. If anything, it presses harder.The mother of my child, an innocent woman, someone I have known since high school, might die, and I am not okay with that.My mother’s doing; she has taught me to be cold and calculative. She’s always had a knack for making things disappear—problems, people

SebastianThe room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight. My security team and private investigator sit around me, their expressions hard and focused.These are men I trust, men who get results. My fingers drum on the table as I glance at each of them.“I need you to find someone,” I say, my voice sharp, commanding. “Her name is Elizabeth. She’s… a friend.”One of the men raises an eyebrow. “Who is she, boss? What’s her story?”“She’s a friend,” I repeat firmly, not wanting to explain further.“Just find her. But do not engage. If you see her, if you find anything, you call me immediately. Is that clear?”They nod in unison, murmuring their agreements before getting up to leave the room.The door closes behind them, and silence falls.I sit back in my chair, the weight in my chest growing heavier. My phone buzzes on the table, pulling me out of my thoughts. I snatch it up, and Agnes’s name flashes on the screen.“Agnes,” I answer quickly, “did you find anything?”Her voice is hesitan

SebastianJames Alexander’s piercing gaze locks onto mine. His eyes are a storm, unreadable but charged with something that makes my gut churn.For a second, I think he might order his men to shoot me right here. But then he raises a hand.“Boys, it’s okay,” he says, his voice deep and commanding.The men hesitate, their hands still lingering near their rifles, but they obey, stepping back just enough to show I’m not getting riddled with bullets.James strides forward, his boots crunching against the gravel, and extends his hand.I take it, the grip firm, his weathered skin rough against mine. His face remains unreadable, but his smouldering eyes pin me in place.“Mr. Sebastian Valdez,” he says, his voice measured, “welcome to Austin.”I try to smile, but my face doesn’t cooperate.My mind is fogged, my heart heavy, and the weight of why I’m here is crushing.James gestures toward the house, leading me into a massive living room with high wooden beams and furniture that screams old mo