Semua Bab Abandoned by Ex, Married to His CEO Brother: Bab 301 - Bab 310

AlexanderI finally released Casillas’s shoulder. He didn’t move immediately. His eyes bore into me, and I could he was measuring me up, calculating how much I knew.I knew enough. I knew it all. I turned my back on him without another word. He didn’t call after me or move to block my path. That, more than anything, confirmed what I had already discovered.The moment I had revealed I knew he was my uncle, his surprise had been so sharp it had sliced through his ever-present arrogance. For most men, such behavior might have been enough to make them believe his shock was genuine, but I wasn’t most men, and Casillas was not someone you ever took at face value. A snake could play dead, too.Still, I had seen that flicker of speechlessness. He hadn’t expected me to know.The truth was I hadn’t expected to know either. When I first uncovered the connection, it had felt like swallowing poison. The idea that this man, this parasite, was related to me by blood had sat in my stomach like lead.

Alexander I kept my smile in place, though it cooled a fraction. “I understand,” I said evenly, as if he had just told me the weather was about to turn. “But the beauty of timing,” I added, letting my gaze drift to the woman with the large eyes, “is that it’s never fixed. Circumstances change. So do priorities.” I leaned back in my chair, as if the matter was already settled in my favor. Before the plump man could also lean back with his self satisfied smirk, another voice cut through the air. “That,” the man said, folding his hands on the table, “is exactly why we should go with the wiser choice.” He didn’t need to elaborate, but the insinuation hung in the air like smoke; that I was the wiser choice. I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked toward me, or how several others around the table suddenly seemed more interested in their notepads than in defending Rising Helios. I had to stop myself from smiling. The words were a quiet confirmation of what I already knew. To thes

AbigailThe TV murmured in the background, playing some old rerun of a baking show and providing dim light in the dark living room. The volume was low enough that the host’s voice was just a warm hum, barely distinguishable from the faint dramatic music playing in the background. I wasn’t really watching. My eyes kept drifting to my phone, my thumb scrolling aimlessly through a feed I wasn’t even reading.It was just after one in the morning, and I had been awake for the better part of an hour. I had been sleeping so soundly that I couldn’t even remember what had woken me; no nightmare, no noise, just the sudden sharp awareness of being awake. I had tossed and turned for a while, trying to will myself to sink back into sleep, but it never came. Eventually, I had given up, padding out to the kitchen in my robe and slippers to make a cup of lemon balm tea.The second cup of tea now sat on the coffee table beside me, it's steam long gone, and the surface cooling to the point of being u

ConradOut of the corner of my eye, I could see Simon still seated in the visitor’s chair. I didn’t look at him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing any reaction from me. This was between my mother and me; always had been, always would be.I leaned back slightly, resting my hands in my pockets. “Whatever’s going on, you’ll handle it,” I said, my voice deliberately even. “You always do.”It wasn’t flattery. It was fact. And it was also my way of saying she didn’t need to treat me like a nuisance for showing up.But the flicker in her eyes told me she wasn’t in the mood to be reassured.Mother looked at me… then at Simon Hughes before she scoffed, mocking enough to dig under my skin like a splinter. With this deceptive calm that never meant anything good, she shook her head once. Then, without warning, she shoved the sushi platter off her desk.It hit the floor with a violent crash. Glass shattered, rice scattered, and expensive tuna smeared against the carpet. She didn’t e

Conrad And frankly, I had been fine with that arrangement. Her staying there kept her out of my way. It spared me the whining, the dramatics, the constant tears. God, the neediness. Every word out of her mouth had been another plea for attention, for me to listen to the endless loop of her mourning over her ruined face. I could only take so much of that before it drove me insane. It wasn’t that I didn’t try at first. I had. But the thing with Susanna was that she didn’t actually want solutions. She wanted pity. I offered her a whole legion of top surgeons. I did the research, set up consultations, and even had several flown in. And what did she do? She balked. She cried. She threw tantrums. She “didn't want this one.” Every time we got close to moving forward, she found some new reason to drag her feet. It was infuriating. And really, enough time had passed. The swelling was gone. The scars, while not invisible, were manageable. Any normal person would have at least tried to take