All Chapters of FELL IN LOVE WITH MY HUSBAND'S BODYGUARD: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The morning sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains, casting gold streaks across the silk bedsheets.Richard opened his eyes slowly, a dull ache pounding behind them. He blinked, pushing himself upright. The suite was quiet, too quiet. He turned his head.Lauren’s side of the bed was untouched—smooth, cold, untouched.She hadn’t slept beside him. Not truly.He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the headboard. Last night felt strange. He had tried to get close to her, to reconnect—but her body had been tense beneath his hands, her breath too shallow, her lips too quiet.It was like trying to touch a statue.He sighed and rose to his feet, grabbing his robe. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her silk robe draped neatly over the armchair, her perfume lingering faintly in the air. But she was already gone.Again.Downstairs, the house was slowly coming to life. Staff moving quietly, preparin

Louis leaned against the frame of the garage wall, phone in hand, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The staff moved around him in a steady blur—drivers adjusting car mirrors, gardeners watering the hedges—but his mind was elsewhere. With her. He stared at the message he'd just typed, reading it over again before finally pressing send. > Louis: Can we talk? Just you and me. I miss your voice. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and crossed his arms, the familiar tension already settling into his shoulders. She wouldn’t answer right away—he knew her life wasn’t hers anymore. It belonged to every room she walked into, to every title her last name carried. But he also knew her silences well. And he knew she’d come. Just then, his phone buzzed. > Lauren: I’ll find a way. Going shopping today—I’ll text you when we can slip away. He smi

The scent of fresh leather and luxury perfume hit Lauren the moment she stepped back into the brightly lit mall corridor. Her heartbeat was still unsteady, her skin still tingling from Louis’s touch. But her face? Composed. Poised. Untouched by anything but the world of polite society.Just ahead, Camille stood in front of the boutique counter, arms full of designer sandals, chatting animatedly with the store attendant. Her laughter echoed, drawing attention—as always.Lauren took a deep breath to steady herself.Then—she felt him.A familiar warmth, a whisper of presence behind her.Louis.His hand brushed lightly against the small of her back as he passed her, eyes trained ahead, his face unreadable. Not even a flicker of guilt or pride betrayed him. He slipped back into his role with practiced ease, the very image of a disciplined staff member.“Camille,” Lauren called sweetly as she approached, her voice smooth like

The evening air shimmered with a quiet tension as the Morees’ sleek black SUV pulled out of the estate gates. Lauren sat beside Richard in the back seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap, every inch of her composed like a woman born for the spotlight.And yet, every so often, her gaze shifted to the rearview mirror. He was there. Louis. Silent, focused, hands gripping the steering wheel like the road was all that mattered. But she could feel it—the way his eyes met hers for a fraction too long. The way his breath slowed when Richard leaned in closer.He was pretending again. As was she.Richard, oblivious, adjusted his cufflinks and cleared his throat. “Tonight should be good,” he said casually. “My father’s pulling out all the stops for his business partners. Big speeches. Big names.”Lauren smiled faintly, then looked out the window. She hadn’t seen her parents in months. Her mother even longer. The idea of facing them tonight—at a party like

The music faded the farther Richard walked, swallowed by the silence of the corridor leading to the private restrooms. The world outside was champagne, elegance, and pretense. But in here, everything felt quieter. More dangerous.Clara waited with one heel pressed to the wall, arms folded under her chest, lips painted the color of bruised plums.The second she saw him, she straightened. “You came,” she said softly, a gleam in her eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”Richard leaned against the door behind him, silent. Watching.Clara took slow, deliberate steps toward him. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she murmured, reaching out to touch his tie. “Pretending this thing between us never happened.”“I’m not pretending,” Richard said. His voice was calm, clipped. “I’m trying to move on.”Clara’s eyes narrowed, though her voice stayed sweet. “Move on? From what? From me? From nights you didn’t want to end? From mornings you didn’t want to