wounded Heart のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Alex’s hand found mine in the darkness, his grip tight and sure. “Don’t move,” he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. The sound of footsteps grew closer, echoing through the penthouse’s marble halls. My heart pounded so hard I was sure James could hear it. The kitchen’s moonlit windows made us perfect targets, but the shadows beneath the counter might hide us—if we could reach them without being seen. Alex seemed to read my mind. His hand tugged mine gently, guiding me into a crouch. We moved silently, inch by inch, toward the relative safety of the kitchen island. Glass crunched under my bare feet from the water glass I’d dropped earlier. A soft hiss escaped me. The footsteps stopped. “I know you’re here, brother dear.” James’s voice carried that same twisted amusement from the kidnapping. “And I know she’s with you. Did you really think your security system could keep me out? I helped design it, remember?” Alex’s grip on my hand tightened. Even in the darkness, I could

My phone’s screen glares back at me, the message burning into my retinas. Three hours. The company or the truth. I glance at Sonia, who’s still staring at the old photograph spread out on my desk, her fingers trembling as they trace her mother’s smiling face. The city lights twinkle beyond my office windows, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. She has no idea about the message, about the choice I have to make. How can I tell her that in three hours, I might have to give up everything my father built to uncover the truth about her mother’s death? Or worse—that I might choose to keep his legacy intact and lose her forever? The weight of my father’s empire presses down on my shoulders. Years of work, thousands of employees depending on me, and now it could all crumble because of secrets buried in the past. Secrets that could destroy everything—including whatever’s growing between Sonia and me. “Alex?” Sonia’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Your father and my mother… they look

“Like father, like son.” The message burns my vision as I stare at my phone. My mother’s death wasn’t an accident. The realization hits me like a physical blow, making my knees weak. All this time, I’d believed…“Alex?” Sonia’s voice seems to come from far away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”In a way, I have. Two ghosts—her mother and mine, their deaths somehow connected by a web of lies that’s stretched across twenty years. And now Sarah’s life hangs in the balance, with Dupont holding all the cards.“The jet will be ready in twenty minutes, sir,” my security chief reports.“But there’s something else. We just received word from the Paris police. They found blood in the hotel stairwell. A lot of it.”Sonia gasps softly beside me. I want to comfort her, but my hands are shaking too badly to even reach for her.“Mr. Alexander,” the security chief continues, “given the circumstances, I strongly advise against—”“Get out.” My voice is ice. “All of you. Now.”The security team exch

The manila envelope trembles in my hands as I sit on the edge of my bed. Inside are the answers I’ve been searching for about Mom’s death, but fear paralyzes me. The bedroom feels smaller tonight, shadows creeping in from every corner as if they know what secrets this envelope holds. My fingers trace the sealed edge, feeling each tiny ridge and bump in the paper. Alex’s words from earlier echo in my mind: “Sometimes the truth hurts more than not knowing.”My phone rings again—another message from Alex. I’ve been avoiding him since James delivered his ultimatum. He’s been trying to reach me all day, his texts growing increasingly urgent. But I have been buried in my own thoughts since finding this envelope on my doorstep this morning, wrapped in plain brown paper with no return address. How can I face Alex, knowing his brother is forcing him to choose between his father’s legacy and me? The knock on my door makes me jump, scattering the thoughts I’ve been chasing in circles. “Sonia?

Dupont’s footsteps resound on the stairs, each one making my heart pound harder. Alex and James freeze mid-struggle, both turning toward the sound. In that moment of stillness, I notice how similar their profiles are—or are they? The sharp jaw, the slight curl of dark hair at the temples, even the way they hold themselves. Everything I thought I knew feels like a lie now. The ancient floorboards creak under unseen weight. My pulse quickens with each sound, memories of Paris flashing through my mind—the café where this all started, the chase through rain-slicked streets, the first time Alex almost kissed me. Was any of it real? “Let him go, Alex,” Dupont calls out. His accent is thicker than it was in Paris, stress perhaps, carefully cultivated polish cracking under pressure. “This has been twenty years in the making. Time to end it.” Alex’s grip on James tightens. “Stay back.” “Or what?” Dupont appears at the top of the stairs, two men in dark suits flanking him like shadows. Thei