Semua Bab Once Upon a Marriage : Bab 31 - Bab 40

Ava The message came at 2:13 a.m. My phone vibrated so violently on my nightstand that it startled me out of my half-sleep. I blinked into the darkness, the soft glow of the screen the only light in my apartment. My thumb hesitated over the screen, heart already thudding in that way it did when I knew, when instinct screamed that whatever waited was going to shatter me. I unlocked it. There was no text. Just an image. And then another. And another. I felt my throat close up. There we were. Me and Mike. From ten years ago. The hazy, neon-lit club in Prague. His arm slung around my waist, my head tilted back in laughter, his mouth on my throat in the next frame. And then the final photo, which my hand was grabbing him. My fingers laced with his like we couldn’t wait to tear each other apart. I felt the blood drain from my face. How did Jennifer get these? A notification pinged. Finally, the text came. “Thought you’d appreciate a little memory lane. We’ll keep this between

Mike I didn’t sleep the night Eloise called. Her voice echoed in my head, raw, broken, full of a pain I’d never wanted to cause. The worst part wasn’t that she suspected me. The worst part was knowing I couldn’t even blame her. From the outside, I was the obvious choice. The only one besides Ava who had seen the children’s designs. The only one who’d been close enough to every sketch, every idea. And I hated it. The apartment was silent. I stood by the window, staring out at the city, watching the distant lights flicker like dying stars. My reflection stared back, dark circles, clenched jaw, fists pressed against the glass. Someone was doing this to her. And I was going to find out who. … The next morning, I started where I always did, quietly, carefully. I reached out to a friend of mine, Noah, who worked digital security for one of the fashion conglomerates. Discreet and trusted. I called him from a burner. No traces. “Noah. It’s Mike.” A pause. “Damn, been a while. What’s

Eloise The email came at 7:03 a.m. I was at the kitchen counter, the kettle just starting to boil, Max was still asleep down the hall, everywhere quiet, the way I liked it before the day began. But that email shattered the peace. Subject: Custody Petition, Lucian True. My hands went cold. The mug slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor, but I didn’t even hear it. My pulse roared in my ears as I read the first lines, then again, as if the words might change. Lucian was filing for shared custody. Shared custody! The man who hadn’t done the least like send a birthday card, who hadn’t asked about fevers, nightmares, school, scraped knees, now he wanted shared custody now? The kettle whistled sharply, like a scream. I turned it off, my hands shaking. Max’s voice carried down the hall, small and sleepy. “Mama?” I inhaled, steadying myself, smoothing the edges of my voice before I called back, “In the kitchen, sweetheart.” He padded in, hair a mess, dragging his favorit

Ava I couldn’t stop shaking. My hands trembled as I tried to steady the glass of water against my lips. The rim clinked against my teeth, spilling cold droplets down my chin. I set it down on the kitchen counter and gripped the edge until my knuckles went white. Breathe, Ava. Just breathe. But the air felt too thin, like the walls of my apartment were closing in, suffocating me with the weight of what I’d done. The message sat open on my phone, the words seared into my mind even though I’d read them a dozen times: You’re not done. More sketches. Or the first photo goes public. Tick-tock. No name. No number I could trace. Just the faceless predator Jennifer had sent after me. I stumbled to the sofa, burying my face in my hands. The room blurred behind my tears, the neat space I’d worked so hard to build for myself, now tainted by this mess. I had thought, God, I had hoped, that sending those first sketches would be the end. That they’d take what they wanted, leave me alone, le

Mike I knew she was lying to me. The moment I saw the way Ava avoided my calls, the way she stammered through our last call conversation, I knew she hadn’t stopped. I sat in my car across from that dingy little café on the east side, the one that looked like it hadn’t seen a decent customer in a decade. My fingers drummed the steering wheel, heart pounding too loud in my ears. I should’ve walked away. I should’ve let this be Ava’s mess. But I couldn’t, not when it was Eloise who’d pay the price. When Ava stepped out of the café, I almost convinced myself I was wrong. That maybe she was meeting an old friend or handling something harmless. But then I saw him. The same guy, the fixer, my investigator had revealed his face to me. Greasy hair, cheap suit, eyes that darted like a rat’s. It’s possible he might not the be the main fixer though. Ava handed him something, a folder. My blood ran cold. Even from where I sat, I knew. I just knew. I waited. Watched the man vanish into t