Semua Bab RECKLESS DESIRES: THE ODEN LEGACY : Bab 41 - Bab 50

The Oden house had always been a neat, old-fashioned, and discreet luxury. It was on the outskirts of the city, obscured behind high hedges and an enormous driveway that swooped around into a circle like a neat signature. Inside, time went by more slowly. The walls hummed with decades of family promise and secrets—some more poisonous than holy.Luke hadn't been home in weeks.He stood now just outside the family dining room, jaws clenched, eyes darting back and forth between the faces assembled at the long mahogany table. His stepmother, Mrs. Oden, was sitting stiffly upright at the head, her pearl necklace against her throat like armor. Her face was unyielding, but Luke sensed the cold disdain simmering beneath her smooth mask. His father, Jackson Oden, sat across from her, one hand on a glass of scotch, the other rubbing his chin in that same old, measured beat Luke had learned to distrust.At the opposite end, Zack—Luke’s uncle—stood holding his phone, obviously waiting for this mo

The Oden estate was abnormally quiet—so quiet, in fact, that Luke could hear the gentle ticking of the old-fashioned grandfather clock in the hall outside his study. It was a rich, powerful quietness, not of tranquillity but of unstated things. Luke sat by himself at the long mahogany dining table, the same one that had witnessed years of lovingly constructed family dinners, public outings, and Jackson Oden's boisterous expectations. Today, however, the table stretched out like a bench in a courtroom. Cold. Solitary. Judging. He sipped bitter black coffee, untouched toast drying out on either side of him, when the door groaned open. Mrs. Oden swept in like a gust of winter air—elegant, poised, but icy beneath the silk. "You didn't come to breakfast," she said, voice crisp. Luke didn't look at her. "I'm not hungry." "Clearly," she said, her heels clicking on the shining floor. "But when has need ever stopped a man from asserting he's in control?" He finally raised his eyes

The warm Saturday morning heated up the city corners like gold dust being sprinkled across rooftops. Amiriam had intended to sleep that morning, but Rita had begged her to help with the setup for the small community literacy fair in the neighborhood park. Amidst children darting around, balloons swaying softly in the breeze, and tables laden with books, food, and paint, Amiriam found herself smiling more than she had all week.She didn't expect a black car to stop just beyond the far hedge. Or for the passenger door to swing open and a small, familiar figure tumble out—rumpled-haired, grinning, with a book bag almost as big as he was. "James?" she said, blinking. The six-year-old hurtled toward her like a bullet. "Amiriam!" he cried, his small arms wrapping around her waist as he collided with her.She caught him instinctively, bear-hugging him a bit off the ground. "Goodness," she laughed, eyes wide. "I haven't seen you in. months." "Daddy said I could come spend the weekend wi

Jackson Oden was a man of control—control of assets, control of story, and above all, control of legacy. And legacy was precisely what was being risked now.Twins. The word had rattled his bones ever since the moment Stacy uttered it in his study.There were norms in his world. There was a weight attached to the family name. With power. With price tags. And with expectations. Stacy had been a convenient distraction, a good-looking face with the right attitude of vulnerability to keep Luke on his toes through tough moments. But a mother of Oden heirs? No. Not without guarantees.That morning, having finished his black coffee and brief phone call to the lawyers, Jackson dialed a number not used in over five years. "Langston Investigative Services," answered a deep voice."It's Jackson Oden. I have a file check on Stacy Royce, a woman." There was a pause. "You'll have it by the week." "No," Jackson said. "I need it in three days. Double the fee, I'll give you." "Done."He ended the c

The Oden estate was in mournful silence that morning. A soft mist clung to the trees lining the driveway, and even the birds were reluctant to break the silence. Inside the mansion, however, tension hung like a heavy curtain.The envelope had arrived.It came by special delivery—sealed, confidential, stamped with the private DNA company's emblem that Jackson Oden had hired secretly weeks ago. As soon as the butler opened it, the atmosphere in the house shifted. The servants would whisper. Eyes followed the footsteps of the bearer of the truth.Stacy was not just awake.She'd been up for hours.She was positioned on the landing upstairs, hidden just behind the railing, her eyes fixed on the envelope as it was handed to the housekeeper, who placed it on Jackson's private study desk.She didn't move—not immediately. Her head was a turmoil of fear, desperation, and something harder: calculation.The night's gala still echoed in her head. The way that Luke had looked at Amiriam. The way he