บททั้งหมดของ His Son, Her Secret: บทที่ 221 - บทที่ 230

As soon as the call with Max ended, I turned over and dropped the phone onto the bed. It felt like surfacing from another dimension. A world full of toy robots, Mischa’s voice that was way too mature for her age, and Igor’s voice that somehow always sounded like he was reading a Cold War warning.I let out a long sigh, pulled up the blanket, and almost managed to slip back into the warmth of the pillows before that low voice crept into my ear.“You should be excited, Bee. We’re going out again today,” Pascha said through that familiar chuckle of his. Always sounding like a dark secret dancing on his tongue.I groaned. Pure and lazy. Then covered my face with a pillow. “This honeymoon sucks. And it’s a mess,” I muttered, half-choked behind the pillow.“I prefer to call it... dynamic,” Pascha replied, his tone light but with a smirk I could almost feel brushing against my skin.I rolled over, still refusing to get up. But then there it was, that casual yet deliberate touch. His cold han

I knew I was living with a dangerous man when the way he woke me up was by kissing my right cheek, then my temple, then... the corner of my mouth. Slowly. But with intent.And not a romantic kind of intent.More like: “Wake up, lazy bear. The world’s already two laps ahead of your sleep.”I groaned softly, stretching under the white linen blanket that was still cold at the feet. Sunlight crept in through the large glass window, and from a distance, I could hear mountain forest birds screeching like they were rehearsing for a choir. But all of it... was too bright for whatever time it was.“Pascha,” I mumbled hoarsely, “if you kiss me one more time before I’m fully awake, I’m going to bite you. Legally and biologically.”“I’m glad you’re still making threats,” that voice replied, lazy but satisfied. “Because I was starting to think you’d gone into permanent hibernation mode.”I turned my face away from the pillow and looked up halfway. Pascha was already sitting at the edge of the bed,

Flashback.The Cambridge night sky was lit up with streetlights and neon signs from the clubs lining Harvard Square. A cold wind blew, biting at the skin, but this city never really slept, especially not for students just freed from the pressure of midterms.I stood across the street, hands tucked into the pockets of my leather jacket, watching a group of girls just spill out of one of the busiest clubs in the city. They were laughing, way too loudly for this hour and I immediately knew who the reason was.Belva Moguel.She walked with a wobbly gait, her arm draped around one of her friends’ shoulders, Kyara or aurora or Mikaela...?I didn’t care who was who, while the other two followed behind, just as cheerful. Her long hair was slightly messy, and her cheeks flushed with alcohol. One hand clutched her high heels, which she’d clearly taken off because she couldn’t walk properly anymore.“I swear I can do a cartwheel on this sidewalk!” she suddenly declared, letting go of her friend

FlashbackBelva muttered quietly, still covering her face like that might somehow erase everything that happened last night. I was enjoying this moment. It’s not every day I see her like this... vulnerable.Normally, she’s all confidence—her mouth too fast to keep up with, and somehow always ready with a sharp comeback.Now? She was just a girl with leftover eyeliner under her eyes, hair that looked like it lost a fight with a storm, and a face full of misery.I took another sip of coffee. “So, are you planning to stand in the middle of the sidewalk forever or actually gonna get some coffee?”She looked up, staring at the café across the street like she’d just found an oasis in the middle of a desert. “Coffee... God, yes. I need coffee.”I shrugged and started walking toward the café, hearing her dragging steps follow behind me.As soon as we stepped inside, the strong smell of espresso filled the air, mixed with the sound of the coffee grinder and the low conversations of students si

FlashbackThat day was supposed to be just another normal day.I had class. Embedded Systems, a mix of engineering and computer science students. The only class where someone like me, a mechanical engineering major, had to share a room with IT students like… Belva Moguel.I sat in the back row with Ronan, who didn’t look even remotely interested in today’s topic. Meanwhile, up front, Belva sat confidently, legs crossed, laptop open, ready to absorb every word from the professor like she’d already swallowed the textbook before class even started.Our professor, Dr. Franklin, a middle-aged guy with hair that always looked like he’d just fought a losing battle with a block of code, walked to the front of the room. “Alright, before we jump into today’s material, let’s start with a question,” he said, writing something on the board.On the projector screen appeared a microprocessor diagram with various data and control lines. “Who can explain how this system handles interrupts from extern