บททั้งหมดของ Until Paperwork Do Us Part : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The car slowed to a halt beneath the shadowed overhang of the private elevator bay. Jack stepped out first, his movements sharp and vigilant. He scanned the area with practice caution before circling to Elena's side. When he opened the door, she looked up at him blankly. Her eyes dull and unfocused, her fingers trembling slightly, without a word. She reached for his hand and he helped her out. Her legs moved swiftly, each step forced like she wasn't entirely in her body.Neither spoke as they entered the elevator. The polished walls reflected their pale faces, smeared makeup, and blood-stained clothing. But the real stain was the silence between them, thick and suffocating. It wasn't just the kind that followed trauma. It was heavier now. Bloated with unasked questions, brewing suspicions, and too many open wounds. The elevator opened into the marble-lined entrance of Elena's penthouse. The stark white of the space only made the night's horror seem more surreal. As soon as they stepp

The rain began late that evening, washing the city in streaks of silver and glass. In the penthouse, the lights were dimmed, casting soft golden hues across the marble floors, as Elena stood by the window. Layla's words echoed in her mind like a bell tolling a warning. Damien Sinclair. She hated how the name almost sounded, regal, as though Daniel had fashioned a crown out of the trail and slipped it onto his own head. Jack stood nearby, pacing slowly with a burner phone pressed to his ear. His face was unreadable, but his shoulders had grown rigid the moment Layla left. The call ended with a clipped word, and he turned back to her. "She's telling the truth," he said. "My contact has confirmed that Damien Sinclair is the registered alias for Daniel Smith. New identity, forged documents, corporate shell companies, traced to offshore accounts." Elena turned from the window, "so he has been planning this for a while.' "Years." Jack said. "You told me he disappeared for two years an

Jack watched the elevator doors close with a faint metallic sigh. Elena's words earlier was still ringing in his ears. 'I can handle him alone.' He didn't doubt her strength. Elena was as composed as she was sharp. But that didn't mean the knots in his stomach lessened. Richard Harrow was a master manipulator. His weapons weren't strips of violence. They were leverage and influence. He didn't need a knife to cut someone open. He had words for that. Having Elena back into the penthouse, her perfume still carried the faint streaks of candlelight and politics. She was silent for a moment. She just paced around in thought. Her robe of confidence began to unravel when Jack took another look at her and asked quietly. "What else did he say?" She hesitated for a moment, then poured herself a glass of wine. "Like I said, he confirmed what we already suspected, that Daniel, or no, Damien, is targeting me and the board." Jack crossed his arms, "and I can't help but wonder how the hell he kn

Elena sat by the window, her robe neatly tied, a mug of untouched coffee cooling in her hands. The morning light painted soft streaks of gold across the polished floors, but none of it reached her, not truly, not after last night. Richard's words still lingered in her mind, cool, methodical, at least with an undertone of minimal persuasion. 'You really think Jack Roman just showed up in your life by coincidence?' 'You don't know what he's capable of, Elena.' She had not told Jack, not when he kissed her forehead before going to make breakfast, not when he lingered behind her silently, waiting for a glimpse of the woman who had once stood unflinching before boardroom tyrants. She didn't ask for his arms, didn't meet his eyes, she just nodded at his gestures, offered brief responses and smiled without showing her teeth. He noticed, of course. Jack Roman was no fool, but he said nothing, not yet. Elena needed space, not distance, but silence, time to unravel the threads in her mind

Elena awoke to silence. The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful but expected, like a room waiting to be filled with secrets. The warmth of the sheets was still wrapped around her, but the space beside her was cold and untouched. Jack had not joined her in bed, not even after last night. Her temples pulsed with the dull ache of a hangover, and her body felt heavy, like her emotions had crystallized overnight into something physical. She sat up slowly, squinting at the phone lights bled through the sheer curtains. Her mouth was dry, her robe lay on the floor, where she had dropped it in her drunken haze. She remembered flashes, Jack's gaze on her, intense and dark, with something close to longing. His hands gently lifting her as she drifted into unconsciousness, but nothing more, no kisses, no words, just restraint. Her chest ached for reasons she couldn't name. Jack was already gone from the penthouse, there was no note, no text, just space, and something about the air felt differ