Semua Bab Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine: Bab 101 - Bab 110

Viola McCoy Today has to be the slowest day I’ve ever experienced. What’s happening? It’s like the seconds drag on more than necessary and I’ve lived a whole day in the last seven hours.But at least it’s almost 7 p.m. and time to leave.Logan didn’t show up at the office. Figures. He’s probably avoiding me.I close my laptop with a dull thud, the sound echoing in the quiet corner of my workspace. My fingers feel numb as I gather my things—mouse, charger, lip balm, and that stupid leather-bound planner I haven’t even had the mental capacity to use today. It all goes into my bag with force.“Bye, Viola!” someone calls from across the office. I don’t even bother checking who it is.“Bye,” I manage, tight-lipped and polite, forcing a smile that burns my cheeks.I step into the elevator, and the silence inside feels like a vacuum.Just me, my thoughts, and the soft mechanical hum.When I step into the parking lot, that familiar pang of forgetfulness hits.Damn it.My car isn’t here.

Logan Reynolds It’s almost 2 a.m. and no one’s sleeping. Not really. Not when a wedding has just gone up in flames.The lounge is still lit. A few people are around Susan, draped over her like a shroud of sympathy but I know none of it is real. Her mascara is smudged, cheeks blotchy, but she’s nodding at every comforting word like she hears them. She doesn’t. She’s somewhere else entirely.Fred’s vanished, of course. Gone the second the truth hit the air. I’d bet money he’s holed up in some closet or stairwell with a flask and a shattered ego.Julian’s pacing the lounge like a man with something to prove. His fists keep clenching like he’s imagining what he’d do if he got his hands on Fred. “I’ll kill him,” he keeps muttering. “I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill him.”He won’t. We all know he won’t. That guy doesn’t have the guts to kill a spider, let alone a man. But it makes him feel like a protector, like he still has a role to play in all this.I lean against the pillar ne

Logan Reynolds My head hurts.Damn.And it’s because of her. Viola.Because she said those three fucking words to me like they meant something. Like they had weight. Like they belonged.“I love you.”She was drunk. Hell, she could barely stand. I knew it. Knew she didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It was probably just a slip—some careless, offhanded thing her lips threw out into the dark while her mind wandered someplace else. Maybe she said it to Julian once and forgot how it tasted.But still.It kept me up all night.The sentence rolled around in my head like a song on repeat. Not a love song. Not even close. It was more like a warning. A slow, poisonous whisper worming its way into the cracks of my skull. I laid there staring at the ceiling like it had answers. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.By the time I actually doze off, it’s well past sunrise.When I finally sit up, the room is heavy with heat and stale air, and the clock on my nightstand is blinking 1:42 p.m.Shit.A kno

Viola McCoy The lock clicks behind me, and I step into the apartment.It’s quiet. .The city outside hums faintly through the windows. I don’t bother turning on the lights. The hallway is soaked in warm orange from the evening sun bleeding through the curtains. My heels click softly against the wooden floor, and I head straight to the bedroom like I’ve been holding my breath all day.I toss my bag on the armchair and grab my phone off the nightstand.Still nothing from him.I unlock it and text Amirah.Viola: Where are you?Seconds pass. Then it buzzes.Amirah: Had errands to run. Be back soon xxI sigh and let the phone slip from my hand. It lands softly on the duvet.My chest is tight. The kind of tight that feels like something’s crawling up my throat but won’t come out. I press a hand to my sternum and close my eyes for a second.Maybe I’m just tired.Maybe I’m just—Buzz.I snatch the phone back up, my heart instantly skipping. I don’t even think before I look.Please. Pleas

Viola McCoy I walk into the house, and my cheeks are burning.My heart’s still fluttering, still clinging to the warmth of Logan’s kiss. It’s the kind of warmth that blooms from your lips to your spine, and settles somewhere in your chest like a soft, glowing flame. I close the door gently behind me, not because it’s late, but because I feel… delicate. Lit up. Like one loud noise might shatter this quiet, magic little bubble I’m in.Amirah is on the couch, curled up in her pink fuzzy robe, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn in her lap. Her face lights up the second she sees me.Her mouth opens like she’s ready to scream, but she stops herself. She leans forward instead, eyes wide. “Okay. Spill. How did it go?”I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. It’s soft and giddy and real in a way that makes my chest ache.“He gave me these,” I say, stepping closer.I reach into my purse and carefully pull out the velvet box. My fingers are trembling a little. I open it, and the light hits the