Seducing My Ex's Brother のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

EMILY'S POV "Sinclair?" Ethan echoed, his brows slowly drawing together, as though the name alone carried the weight of a thousand untold stories. "Yes, Sinclair," I replied, my voice calm but firm. "Your brother." For a few seconds, time felt suspended. Ethan’s usually composed and unreadable expression faltered. I caught it….the flicker of recognition, the tightening of his jaw, the sudden stiffness in his shoulders. Something I said had struck a nerve. "Emily, is this a prank?" he asked, stepping closer to me. His voice was steady, but there was a hint of disbelief. Almost like he was trying to prepare himself for a truth he didn’t want to hear. "Do you really think I would joke about something like this?" I asked, staring straight into his eyes. "I know how crazy it sounds, but I know what I saw. He was there that day, Ethan. He wasn’t close to the sc

EMILY’S POV "Wait," I said again, disbelief tightening around my throat. "You were the one that sent that letter? The one that cleared my name that time? And you were also the person who warned me about Mara that day at the café?" I slowly let go of his collar, my fingers falling limply to my side. Dave didn’t blink. He just stood there with that same steady look on his face. Calm. Cold. Like none of this shook him. Like everything was unfolding exactly as he expected it would. “I thought you were smarter than this, Emily,” he said in a low voice. “Especially for someone who's been having such a neat little affair with my brother.” His words stung more than I expected. He stepped closer, his eyes focused on mine. “You knew, didn't you? Deep down? That Ethan would never marry you. Not because of you. But because

EMILY'S POV"Thank you, doctor," Emily said sincerely, shaking his hand as the nurse helped guide Mara into the waiting car. The hospital staff had been hesitant at first, but Emily had insisted this moment was important no, necessary for Mara’s healing. This wasn’t just about showing up. This was about reclaiming everything that had been taken from her.The nurse, a soft-spoken woman named Grace, gently adjusted the IV line hooked to Mara’s arm. "Just let me know if you feel uncomfortable at any point," she told Mara with a warm smile.Mara nodded weakly, her hands trembling in her lap. "Thank you," she whispered.The nurse was at the backseat of the car with Mara and I entered the front seat of the car, wearing my seat belt."Let's go," I said, to the driver.Mara looked out the window, her fingers occasionally clenching her hospital gown. I could see the fear in her eyes. The fear of walking into a room full of people who’d believed someone else’s lies. Of facing the woman who had

I called him.There was a pause, a moment of silence on the other end as if he was deciding whether to pick up or ignore it. The seconds felt long, drawn out, like waiting for the sound of a distant storm to reach your ears.Then finally, the call connected."Didn’t expect you to call me first," Dave said, his tone light, but underneath it, I could hear something else. A smugness. A layer of amusement. And I chuckled, quietly, but there was no humor in it."I didn’t do it for you," I said calmly. "I did what was right, so you don’t have to thank me."My voice stayed steady, but there was steel beneath it. "I called to warn you, politely. Don’t threaten me. Not with my life. And don’t manipulate me or cause chaos just to save someone. If you need my help, just ask. Don’t play mind games. Don’t twist the truth. Be direct with me. Let me decide if I should help you or not."There was silence for a beat.Then his voice came through again, unshaken."I didn’t threaten your perfect life. I

The look in Victoria’s eyes as she whispered those first words, “I want to apologize,” stirred something deep inside me. A flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, the cold, unrepentant woman I’d known all these years was cracking, showing a sliver of genuine remorse. But the moment was fleeting. The apology, delicate and soft as it came, did not sit well with me. It lacked the weight of truth.I studied her carefully, the slight tremble of her voice, the subtle whimper that escaped her lips. But beneath it all, there was something rehearsed, contrived. A performance tailored to pull at the jury’s heartstrings during the trial, to sway opinions and secure the mildest possible outcome.I remembered the last trial vividly. Victoria had insisted on her innocence up until the very end, vehemently denying every accusation thrown her way. She was defiant, cold, and calculating, showing no hint of vulnerability.And then, in a sudden turn, she broke down in tears in front of the jury. The cou