All Chapters of My Father-In-Law's Craziest Obsession: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sansa’s Point of ViewThree days.That’s how long it had been since I went to the hospital. Three whole days of unconsciousness and yet, one touch fromWinston and my body was on fire all over again.What if the maid hadn't come to call us for dinner? Would he have slept with me? Was it something he wished to ever do again? Or was I the wanton whore throwing myself all over him? Thank goodness for dinner as a distraction. I wasn't hungry but I was going to stuff myself with everything they had. I couldn't face him at dinner. Eating was a better option. I stared at the soft yellow dress hanging on the wardrobe. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t even silk. Just a simple, sleeveless cotton piece that floated to my calves gently. I didn’t want to feel beautiful. I didn’t want to feel dressed up. I just wanted to feel like myself again.My hands trembled as I slipped it over my head. The color hugged my skin like a balm, soothing and warm. I didn’t bother with makeup. My cheeks still hel

Killian’s POV The guards’ hands were still on my shoulders as they dragged me toward the massive iron gates of the Wolfe estate. “How dare you!" I snapped aggressively, struggling against their hold. The humiliation of it! The absolute disgrace burned hotter than any flame. I wanted to shove them, to fight them, to take them down. Most of all, I wanted to deal with Sansa. The cheap thing! They had to let me go, they had to let me teach them a lesson. Sansa had to be taught a lesson!“I’m a Wolfe!” I barked, shoving one of their arms off with a snarl. “Do you even understand what that means? He’s my father! He has no right, no goddamn right, to throw me out of my house!”One of the guards, the older one with graying temples and a stiff jaw, met my eyes. “Sir, Mr. Winston is concerned about Miss Vale’s recovery. He doesn’t want her stressed or upset.”“Shut up! Her name is Sansa Wolfe! My bloody wife! Don't forget that!" The man sighed heavily and dropped his head, “We are jus

Winston's POV Killian stormed out of my estate like a tantrum-throwing child. How did he know? Who gave him the pictures? Was this related to the blackmail I received at the hospital? “Damn it!" I swore angrily, “I should have done something when I got those pictures!" But then, Sansa was my priority. She still is. I had to make sure she was saved and sound before going after some cheap blackmail. I stood by the window of my study, watching the tire marks his car had left on my driveway. This was his home. But he'd abandoned it years ago. Why was he so obsessed with the same woman he wanted to bury just a few weeks ago? My jaw tightened in irritation. He had the audacity to waltz in here, accuse me like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth, and dare to threaten the one person under this roof I had no intention of giving up.Sansa.My eyes drifted toward the west wing, where I knew she was resting. Still recovering. The thought of Killian barging into her peace like that made me e

Winston’s POV The moment she walked away from me in that hallway, her palm still stinging on my cheek, the memories returned. I stood frozen, dumbfounded by her words. "Go kiss Imelda." What the hell was she talking about?I strode back to my room angrily. How long would she take liberty of the fact that I liked her? Slapping me?! But this wasn't just about Killian. No, she thought I'd been with some maid. “Goodness! What does she take me for?!" I hissed. Imelda?Her name lit a fuse in my brain. Suddenly, I was back in my bedroom the night before. The memory from the previous night was still foggy. I couldn't recall everything that had happened but I was sure as hell that I couldn't have done anything stupid. Could I? I could clearly recall her offer of whiskey. But she'd brought just one glass. For me. I wouldn't dare let a maid into my room talk more of drinking with me. I was just trying to be polite and to also ask about Sansa. I could recall she told me Sansa didn't

Sansa’s POV When I had the willpower to get out of the shower, I decided to put the images of Winston out of my head. “Fine, if he won't touch me, it's fine!" I hissed loudly. The pencil skirt hugged my hips as if it had been stitched onto my skin. I hadn’t planned to look like this, not for a simple visit to Winston’s office, but when I glanced in the mirror, wearing just the fitted skirt, a v-neck blouse that was almost too sheer under direct light, and black stilettos that clicked like a warning on the marble floor, I realized I looked dangerous. My hair was pulled into a quick bun and wore a layer of red lipstick and mascara. I wasn't in the mood to play dress up. This was more than enough. With a deep inhale, I stepped out the front door, and there he was, Winston Wolfe, leaning against his luxury black sedan, his dark eyes set on me with the kind of look that could melt ice. The world had looked at me before. Men have admired. Women have judged. But Winston, he stared at