Все главы Abandoned by Ex, Married to His CEO Brother: Глава 271 - Глава 280

Marceline Or was this just another one of their dramatic public displays, designed to shock and entertain? With those two, it was always hard to tell.As he drew closer, Conrad directed his ire at me, his gaze shifting from Susanna to land squarely on my face. "When you called me," he began, his voice laced with acid, "you didn't say Susanna would be joining us."He was right, of course. I hadn’t. This was done on purpose, a surprise only because I didn't want to give him any excuse for not being able to come.But I pretended to be surprised, as my eyes widened slightly and I tilted my head to the side. "Oh, didn't I mention it?" I asked, feigning a small, apologetic frown. "It must have slipped my mind."It was a flimsy excuse, even for me, and I knew he wouldn't buy it for a second. Still, I continued, my voice smooth and unhurried, "Do sit down, both of you. Susanna is already here now anyway, and what I have to say pertains to both of you, so it's all for the best, really."Conra

Marceline The accusation hung in the air. It was a heavy, undeniable truth. I watched him, daring him to deny it. His face was pale, his jaw clenched, but he had no retort. He simply sat there, caught in the web of his own moral inconsistencies.Silence passed between us for several minutes before Conrad, in the face of my scathing words, surprised me yet again. "How could I not be a hypocrite?" he demanded, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "I learned from the best, mother. You."The bold statement took the wind clean out of my sails. My mouth fell open, and I simply gaped at him, stunned. It wasn’t the accusation that shocked me, I was well aware of my own influence on him. It was the raw audacity of him throwing it back in my face, acknowledging it so openly.Heatedly, he continued, his voice rising in intensity. "You've been pushing me to covet the CEO position all my life. You've been the one pumping me with poison, pumping me with ideals that push me to play dirty."I scoffe

AbigailI didn’t hear the library door open. Curled in the wide armchair by the window, a thick blanket tucked over my legs and a mug of lukewarm tea long forgotten on the little table beside me, I was too deep in the roaring chaos of 1920s London to notice anything else. The novel I’d found, The Blood of Mayfair, was a fever dream of a book with gangsters in bowler hats and singers with too much rouge and too many secrets. I had stumbled across the book purely by chance this afternoon while scanning a high corner shelf. What began as idle curiosity turned into a feverish need to unravel the killer’s identity before the protagonist, a fashion journalist moonlighting as a private investigator, got there first.The library had revealed itself to me the same way. I had been exploring the estate’s west wing, thinking I might kill an hour or two before lunch, when I opened an unmarked door and stepped into what could only be described as a bibliophile’s heaven. The shelves and shelves of b

AbigailBut Roxy cut me off, her voice gentle but firm. “Yeah, I’m not saying you can’t but now… you’re doing it to Alexander, or rather, with him. Maybe you’re feeling this way because you want to be Abigail with him in public, not ‘Susanna’.”Her words hung in the air. It was like a key finally turning in a lock I hadn’t even realized was there. The vague, nagging feeling, the inexplicable hesitation that had been a dull ache since Alexander first suggested it… Roxy had just named it. My breath deflated, leaving me feeling suddenly hollowed out. She had hit the nail squarely on the head.“Oh,” was all I could manage, my voice barely a whisper.Sensing her accuracy, Roxy’s tone softened even more, shifting into that comforting, sagely register she reserved almost exclusively for me. “Hey,” she said warmly, “a mask is just a mask. As long as we know who’s behind it, as long as Alexander knows he’s with you, not Susanna…that’s what truly matters.”In a small voice, I confessed, “You’re

AbigailBy the time Alexander pulled up to the house, I was already waiting by the entrance, dressed in a soft cream top that draped off one shoulder and loose navy blue pants that cinched at the waist. My hair was twisted into a lazy ponytail, tendrils curling around my face in a way that I didn’t entirely mind. A small crossbody bag rested against my hip, the strap tangled around my arm as I walked to his car.He got out as I approached, ever the gentleman, and gave me that unreadable look of his, the kind that held something too complicated to name.“You really don’t have to come shopping with me, you know,” I said lightly, slipping into the passenger seat. “You’ll be bored out of your mind.”Alexander didn’t respond right away, just gave me a faint smirk as he started the car. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t believe me or if he was waiting for me to dig my hole deeper.I tried again. “I’m notoriously indecisive when it comes to shopping. Truly awful. I might drive you mad.”He shook hi