Lahat ng Kabanata ng Abandoned by Ex, Married to His CEO Brother: Kabanata 351 - Kabanata 360

Conrad A knock on my office door dragged me out of my thoughts like a hook through flesh. I jerked my head up, blinking hard. For a moment, I didn’t even remember where I was. Then I saw tall windows, felt the surface of my desk as I inhaled the faint smell of leather and expensive polish. Oh, right. I was in my office, having forced myself to come to work today. I had been trying to work through my backlog, trying to live up to my title of director and not give Alexander's supporters any reason to paint me as irresponsible. Contracts lay open in front of me, along with reports waiting to be signed. Numbers blurred on the page. But all I had been doing, again, was thinking about Abigail. I had been imagining the moment I would finally find her, the way her eyes would widen when she saw me. The way she would try to pretend she didn’t care when I knew she always had. I had already rehearsed what I would say to her, again and again, until it felt like I was a threater kid anticipati

ConradI left the office early, abandoning my pretense of working hard.I told my secretary to keep searching for Abigail, to check the locations again and to follow every lead no matter how thin. He looked at me like these words mattered and there was a real chance she would be found that way. But deep down, I already knew if I wanted to find Abigail, I had to do it the dirty way, the underhanded way. I drove home on autopilot. When I finally parked in front of the house, the engine still running, I just sat there and stared at it. The place looked the same as it always had: big, immaculate, expensive. When I bought it, I did so because I wanted a house meant to impress. But looking at it now, all I felt was tired. Bone-deep, soul-deep tired. I hadn’t even done any real work today, and yet I felt like I had worked enough for the next year. I wanted to be done. Done with all of this, this mess I didn't even know what to name. I wanted my life to go back to how it used to be. Simpl

ConradI grabbed my shirt and pulled it back on.My fingers shook as I threaded my arms through the sleeves, the fabric cool against skin that felt too warm with panic. I buttoned it quickly and clumsily.“I’m going to Ravenbrook,” I said. The words felt heavy the moment they left my mouth. “I’m coming with you,” Susanna said immediately.“No—” I started, but she was already moving.She left the room at a near run, her footsteps pounding down the hallway. I swore under my breath and focused on my shirt, fumbling with the buttons like they were suddenly too small for my fingers. I reached for my phone, patting my pockets; pants, jacket, the bed.Nothing. My heart jumped again before I remembered. My suitcase.I crossed the room in two strides, yanked open the case, and grabbed my phone. I didn’t even check it. I just needed it in my hand, like some kind of anchor.I left the room and took the stairs two at a time. My head felt wrong. First, it was too light, then it was too full. The

ConradMy hands were shaking, violent, rattling shakes that traveled from my fingers up my arms and into my shoulders. It was not the subtle kind I could pretend wasn’t there. I stared at the body on the ground, and my mind refused to finish the sentence my eyes had already formed. She was too still. I had never seen my mother that still. Not even when she slept, because even asleep, Marceline Remington had always looked alert, like she might open her eyes at any second and judge you for standing too close. Now she didn’t move at all. “Mom,” I croaked. My voice sounded wrong, thin and broken, like it didn’t belong to me. “Mom,” I whispered again, stepping closer without meaning to. My legs felt detached from my body, like they were moving on their own. No reply from her. I swallowed hard. “Marceline.” Still nothing. “Mother!” I shouted, the word tearing out of me desperately. “Mother, wake up!” The only answer was the wind moving through the grass and the distant, circling cr

Casillas stood in the corner of the boutique with a cigarette balanced between two fingers, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling like it owned the place as much as he did. The boutique itself was extravagant, with its mirrored walls, warm gold lighting and shelves lined with handbags that cost more than most people’s rent. It smelled faintly of leather, perfume, and money. His money.Nellie, his latest plaything, flounced across the polished floor in a pair of heels that had no business being that high or that expensive, her laughter ringing out too loudly. “They’re perfect!” she squealed, spinning once, then twice. She beamed at her reflection, then at Casillas. “They fit like they were made for me.” She flashed him a wide smile that was both hopeful and possessive, and before he could say anything, she waved a manicured hand at the shopping assistant. “Can you bring the matching bag? The black one. No, wait, the red. Actually, both.” The assistant nodded eagerly and scurried of