Todos os capítulos de The President's Mate: Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Devon POV Thankfully, Amira burst through the door just in time.“I’m so sorry, Eleanor,” she said, breathless. “I got caught up with some last-minute assignments and didn’t inform you in time about Mr. Rhys arriving with the kids.”Her voice was clipped, professional, but I could see the nerves working beneath her smooth expression.She turned to me and smiled politely. “Oh, Mr. President. It’s good to have you back, sir.”Lucan raised a sharp, silver brow.“Didn’t know the President was out of town,” he said, voice smooth and booming.I felt the barb, but Eleanor was quick. She waved the moment off with a practised smile, her voice light.“It’s okay, Amira. I understand,” she said, then turned to the children with a grin that looked rehearsed. “Now… I bet someone is hungry?”Nathaniel’s hand immediately went to his stomach, giggling. “I’m starving, Momma!”Aria laughed. “Me too!”“Well then,” Eleanor said, ushering them toward the dining hall, “let’s go have dinner before it gets c

Eleanor's POVThe applause thundered around me, but all I heard was my heartbeat."Thank you very much, Clarity Foundation, for having me!" I said into the mic, my voice ringing smooth and polished through the speaker system, bouncing off the marble walls and settling into the minds of the hopeful audience like balm.I smiled.The cameras loved it.The crowd adored it.I turned and walked off the stage, my custom-tailored ivory-white suit clinging perfectly to my frame, crisp lines, defined shoulders, the very image of a woman who had it all. A first lady. A leader. A mother. The envy of a nation.But they didn't know.They didn’t see the cracks.They didn’t hear me screaming into pillows at night, or notice how many times I gripped the bathroom sink just to remind myself I still existed — how often I bit down on my own emotions until I tasted blood behind my smile.I walked backstage, the bright lights behind me, my heels clicking sharply against the ground like punctuation to a sent

Franco POV It had been a long, heavy day.It's one of those days where the seconds drag like hours, and your brain starts to eat itself just to stay busy. I’d been sitting in the same position for what felt like forever—engine off, seat reclined slightly, my hand half-hovering over the burner phone when it rang again. I didn’t even check the screen this time. I knew who it was.Devon.“Tenth time,” I muttered to myself as I brought the phone to my ear. “Go ahead, Alpha.”Same question with the same slightly clipped tone masked as casual concern.“Any movement yet?”I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose before answering.“Still on her tail. Still nothing new.”That was a lie—half of it. She’d been quiet all day. Too quiet. And I’d been watching Eleanor long enough to know her silences meant more than her noise.I hung up before he could ask again. Devon meant well, but the constant checking-in was grinding on me. I needed silence. I needed focus. I needed—Then I saw her.Eleanor st

Devon’s POVIt’s been over five hours.Five dragging, aching hours and the only sound filling the room is the distant hum of a television someone, probably Franco, left on in the other room. A reporter’s voice floats in faintly, cold and clinical as she recounts a bomb explosion downtown. They’re calling it a “machinery explosive malfunction” on a construction site.Bullshit.That was Franco doing, and obviously, this was a distraction. A cover. The Hunters are spinning lies again—wrapping the city in deception, trying to hide what they really are.But none of that matters right now.Not compared to what’s lying still on the bed in front of me.Jimmie.The clock on the wall ticks past 11:55 p.m. Almost midnight.Still... he hasn’t moved.Hasn’t stirred. Not even a twitch.But the strange part—the beautiful, terrifying part is that all his wounds are gone. The deep gash on his thigh, the burn marks on his side, the dark bruises across his ribs… all of them... vanished. Not even a scar

Jimmie's POV It’s been five days since I was pulled from the hunters’ den. Five long, heavy days. And somehow, Devon hasn't left my side—not even for a breath. I think part of him fears that if he looks away too long, I might vanish. That they’ll come back for me. That I’ll be ripped from him again. I tugged the thick scarf tighter around my neck, the wool rough but comforting against my skin. My fingers still tremble sometimes, like echoes of that place are trapped in my bones. I stood alone on the open terrace, its wooden floor chilled beneath my feet, overlooking a horizon that stretched into a vast expanse of green and ocean blues. The view was breathtaking. Rolling hills swayed with wildflowers, trees bowed softly in the wind, and the sea kissed the edges of the earth like it belonged there. Maybe it did. Maybe I didn't. The wind grazed my cheek like a memory. I didn’t know what was next. I didn’t know who I was anymore. Clementine was still missing. There had been no updates.