All Chapters of In Love With My Fiancée's Brother: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Beach HouseDamian’s POVIt had been days since Lila’s call about Blake.Days of stillness that didn’t feel good in my chest.The city moved forward as if nothing were wrong. The traffic lights flashed at the same rate, store owners opened their doors in the same way every morning, and our office was busy as usual. But deep down, I kept feeling like there was a quake going on. A change in the air. A shadow in the corner.Before coffee every morning, I would read the news and look for his name in the headlines. It seemed like I missed something the first time, so I'd read through texts twice or even three times. But there was nothing. No whispers, no sightings. The sign of no movement from him was almost worse than any threat.I told myself maybe he had lost interest. Maybe Lila was given the wrong Intel about him coming back.But deep down, I knew better. Men like Blake didn’t disappear. They waited until you were comfortable and then they struck.The sky was clear on Saturday mo

Lila’s BraveryDamian’s POVThe ocean had died down to a low whisper outside, the kind of sound that seeped through the open cracks of the beach house like a reminder that the night was still alive. The moonlight spilled across the deck in long silver stripes, but the living room felt heavy and still inside.Lila stood frozen near the door, she didn’t move or even set her bag down. There was a tautness in her shoulders I had seen before; it was the same stiffness she had on the worst days at Vale, when the press swarmed her for answers she couldn't give.“Take a seat,” I said quietly, nodding toward the couch. Even though my voice was soft, I could hear the worry running through it.She blinked, as if dragging herself back from something else, then stepped further inside. The soft pad of her shoes against the hardwood was the only sound for a moment.“I’ll get some water,” Eliot murmured, already walking toward the kitchen.As Lila sat down on the couch pillows, they let out a small s

Shadows at the DoorDamian’s POVThe night was quiet when I finally closed my eyes, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that brought peace. It was the kind that made you feel like the whole world was holding its breath for something I couldn't see yet. Even with Eliot lying beside me, his breathing soft and even, my thoughts kept circling back to Leo’s call.The air smelled clean and sharp like the sea in the morning. The pale gold light from the sun spilled into the bedroom, and for a moment I thought it was just another day. But as I stepped out onto the balcony, coffee in hand, something stopped me. There were two men in dark hoodies standing on the beach near the dunes. They were too still and too out of place. They weren’t looking at the water. They were looking at the house.My grip on the mug tightened. The steam rose between us like a thin veil, but the fact that they stood still told me everything I needed to know.When Eliot came into the living room a few minutes later, rubbi

Turning Down the ChainDamian's POV The glow of the TV screen still lingered in my mind even after the broadcast ended.Ironcall’s announcement was bold, almost smug, and I could tell Blake had timed it just right. He had barely given me space to settle into the chairman’s seat before he came swinging.I stood in the middle of the study with one hand on my dad's old desk and the other on the phone I had been looking at for five minutes.Eliot was sitting on the edge of the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. There was a small line between his brows that meant he was looking at me. He was nervous and waiting at the same time, but he didn't say a word. “They’re bluffing,” I said finally, my voice stronger than I felt.Eliot tilted his head, studying me. “Blake doesn’t bluff.”His tone was quiet, but it hit me harder than a shout. He was right. Blake Bennett isn't a type that bluff; he manipulated, cornered, and he struck when you least expected it. I leaned back in my chair,

HealingDamian's POV Eliot didn't take his hand off of mine as we walked back to the house that night. He didn't hold on tight like he did before out of fear. Instead, it felt more like an anchor, something to remind him that I was there and I wasn't going to let go. We didn't talk much. And there was no longer a cold silence between us. Instead, it was heavy with things that we needed to say but didn't.I made tea for both of us when we got inside, more for the routine than the taste. As we sat at the kitchen table, the warm steam curled around us. Eliot looked at his cup and traced the edge with his fingers. I didn't push. Giving him room to breathe was the best kind of love I could give him some days.But the truth was clear: something had to change. We had to stop reacting to blows from the past and start fixing the harm before it killed both of us. That’s when the thought first took root. Therapy. Not as a last resort, but as a deliberate choice to heal, together and apart