All Chapters of Seduced by His Touch: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Sunlight poured through the wispy curtains of Leo Hartmann's living-room-turned-recovery room, motes of dust drifting like promissory draughts through the golden beams. The hard antiseptic of hospital hells had given way to couches and vases of growing flowers, yet the tension was still there—tight wire twisted through every velvet step and braced movement.Leo sat in a worn leather recliner, arm in the sling that supported his broken shoulder, a thin bandage beneath revealing the scar of the bullet. A second, pale and puckered, scar indicated where the attacker's knife had punctured him in the side. Each breath he pulled was accompanied by a wince, as if agony itself had taken up residence in his bones.Across the room, Liana Coleman hovered at his elbow, smoothing a folded blanket over his legs. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, shadows from haunted nights when the rescue replayed incessantly behind her eyelids. Leo watched her, gratitude and sorrow mingling in his gaze.“Go re

Spring's gentle warmth crept onto the Hartmann land, ushering in blooms from snowy earth. Weeks had gone by since Leo's near-miss ambush, and the rhythm of life was slowly reclaiming its familiar beat. Yet the rhythm of danger still lay just beneath the surface, and every smile felt borrowed from a future that might still be taken from their hands.Leo Hartmann sat at the head of the boardroom table in the newly remodeled corner office, his shoulder healed but his posture wary. Executives suggested new product lines with restrained enthusiasm as he sat, hands folded on the mahogany tabletop. He flinched occasionally—nothing corporeal, merely a reminder of the cost he'd incurred. When his phone buzzed, he glanced down: Family therapy, 3 PM. He took a breath, preparing for another session in the suite downtown.Ruth Coleman walked down the halls of her foundation's glass-enclosed downtown office, eyes friendly but wary. Volunteers signed grant checks, staff stuffed outreach packets, and

Rain cascaded down the narrow back alleyway, turning the cobblestones into a shimmering silver stream. Liana Coleman pressed her back against the brick wall, her heart thudding in her ears. Marcus Voss faced her beneath a flickering streetlight, gun drawn and eyes afire with defiance. Every raindrop on his shoulders glittered like shards of glass. The space between them felt impossibly near and broad at once—two adversaries standing on the precipice of final judgment.Liana's own hand on her pistol tightened. Her fingers shook, not from cold but from the rushing of adrenaline. Her gaze met Marcus's unwavering glare, the memory of his brother's rage echoing in her mind. "It's over, Marcus," she said, her voice low but level. "Justice has come."He laughed—a cold, cruel sound. "Justice?" he mocked. "Malachi's dead, and now you think you've won?" A step forward, ankle-length coat billowing. "You have no idea of the destruction I carry."Liana swallowed. "I carry more," she said, her voice

The week after Marcus Voss's capture proceeded in subtle, hesitant means. Spring dropped its green scarf over the Hartmann estate, blossoms unfolding on ancient cherry and oak trees, and new grass scent perfumed the air. Life within the newly renovated manor house hummed with cautious optimism.Liana Coleman went back to college coursework, pacing the campus quad in tailored blazers concealing how exposed she sometimes felt. Her afternoons were filled with lectures in economics and late night sessions in reading, but somehow always in the periphery of her mind was the recovered ledger, the sound of gunshot fire in the alleyway, the phone call that had left her world in half. Every morning, she would awaken to sunlight streaming into her dormitory window and discover the world continued on anyway.Ruth Coleman's office, once a whirlpool of crisis management, now bloomed with reconstruction. She and Leo Hartmann co-chaired board meetings together, their partnership stronger for the trial

Leo dumped the blueprints on the kitchen table as sunshine flooded the room. Minute wisps of dust danced in sunbeams and there was the hint of an after-scent of toast and mown lawn. Leo had spent weeks being invisible at dawn, lost behind the model he was building, but today was just a fatigue written on his face. He took a breath and said softly, “I’m going to step back from this project.” Ruth looked up from drying dishes, her hands trembling slightly on the tea towel. “You mean…? ” Leo nodded slowly. “My ambition almost cost us everything,” he said, voice cracking. “I won’t let it happen again.” Ruth came around the table and put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. He felt gratitude in that touch. Alex was pouring glasses of orange juice. He paused, regarding his father with cautious, expectant eyes. "So. no more late nights?" he whispered. Leo smiled, though tiredly. He had been consumed by guilt, but now, somehow, he could sense himself coming together again. "Not unless we absolutely need