All Chapters of The Vows We Fake : Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The cold cement pressed into my back as I shifted against the chains. My wrists were raw, and my arms ached from the strain. The air was thick and damp, smelling of mold and something I could not identify. Shadows clung to every corner, making the small cell feel suffocating. I had never felt so alone. My heartbeat thudded violently in my chest, but it was not just fear. It was the constant, gnawing worry for the baby inside me. I tried to steady my trembling hands as I looked down at the food they had thrown into the corner. It was cold, unappetizing, and covered in dirt from the floor. The sight made my stomach twist, but I knew I had to eat. I had to survive. My baby needed me alive. My hands shook as I reached toward it, and for a moment I hesitated, thinking about Zane, about Marcus, about the life I had before all of this. I swallowed hard. I had no choice. I picked at the edges, nibbling slowly, forcing myself to chew and swallow. Every bite made me gag, but I reminded myself

Zane held me close as we left the abandoned building, his arm firm around my waist as if he feared I might disappear if he loosened his grip. I felt weightless and heavy at the same time. My legs shook with every step. My throat burned from suppressed screams. The air outside tasted different, like freedom mixed with dust and fear. A convoy of his men surrounded us, their presence a protective wall. Zane guided me into the back seat of a waiting car, and he slid in beside me, keeping his hand on my thigh as if to reassure himself that I was alive. I leaned into him without thinking. My body knew him even when my mind was spinning. We drove for what felt like forever, the city passing in a blur of lights and shadows. Zane spoke in low, clipped tones into his phone, issuing commands with terrifying calm. “Lock down every exit route. Search the ports and private airstrips. I want all safe houses checked. Bring her to me alive. I am done playing with this woman.” My stomach twisted. H

The first thing I felt was weight. A heavy, dragging weight pulling me down into myself. The second thing was pain. Not sharp pain, not violent pain, but a deep and stubborn ache that lived somewhere inside my abdomen, as if someone had carved through me and stitched me back together too tightly. Then the lights came. White, soft, blurry. They floated above me like halos. I blinked slowly. My eyelids felt stiff. My mouth was dry. My body was sluggish, as if I was trapped underwater. Memories washed over me piece by piece, the cell, the fear, the blood, the rush of movement as Zane carried me, the hospital corridor, voices, hands, then nothing. A soft beeping reached me from my right. Machines. Clean smell. Sterile environment. I was in a hospital. I turned my head slightly and saw Zane. He was sitting on the chair beside my bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlaced like he had been praying or punishing himself or both. His head was bowed. His shoulders were tense. Hi

I spent most of the morning drifting in and out of sleep on the living room couch. The curtains were half closed, letting in muted daylight that made the room feel both comforting and suffocating. My body was still sore, my abdomen aching with every movement, but the real pain was deeper. A hollow place under my ribs. A silence where there should have been life. Zane insisted on staying home with me. He had barely left my side for more than a few minutes. Even now he stood behind me, his hand resting lightly on the back of the couch, as if making sure I did not disappear the second he blinked. I tried to focus on the television screen in front of me, but my eyes kept drifting, unfocused. For the past two days there had been constant headlines about Catherine Blackwood’s empire. Rumors. Predictions. Chaos. It felt distant to me. Like something happening in a different universe. But today felt different. There was a tension in the air that I could not ignore. A red banner suddenly

I felt the shift before I understood what it meant. The room was too still, the steady beeping too sharp, the air too thick with anticipation. Then Marcus stirred. His eyelids twitched, then slowly lifted. His eyes darted around the bright hospital room as if trying to remember how to belong to the world again. I leaned closer, my heart thudding painfully. “Marcus. Can you hear me?” His gaze found mine. Recognition filled his tired eyes. Relief hit me so hard I nearly burst into tears on the spot. Zane stepped closer too, silent but tense, his eyes fixed on his brother. Marcus opened his mouth but nothing came out. Zane gently raised the cup of water and guided the straw to his lips. Marcus took small sips, each one slow and shaky. When he finished, he let out a weak breath. “You both look like hell,” he whispered. A broken laugh escaped me. Tears followed immediately. “You scared us,” I said softly. He gave a faint smile. “Seems fair. I scared myself.” I swallowed hard. Seeing