My Millionaire Husband’s Secret のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

After a few more hours of rest, I slowly rouse from my sleep, the soft beeping of machines breaking the quiet. My eyes flutter open, and I see Lincoln sitting on the couch next to my hospital bed. His attention is absorbed by his iPad, where he’s reviewing a stack of case files, the light from the screen illuminating his face. As soon as I shift, he notices me, his gaze snapping to mine immediately.“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be up so soon,” he says, a hint of surprise in his voice. “Here, let me help you sit up.” Without missing a beat, he sets the iPad down, pushes the files aside, and gently moves toward me. With a soft, practiced touch, he adjusts my pillow and raises the bed to a more comfortable position, making sure I’m as settled before sitting again.I glance at the stack of files on the table, counting at least ten in total, and feel a pang of guilt. "Thank you. Sorry if I interrupted your work,” I murmur, my voice a little strained. Was I keeping him from more important thi

It’s probably the fourteenth time I’ve watched the surveillance video of the imposter nurse. I’ve memorized every frame—the way she moves, the flicker of hesitation in her posture, the cold, deliberate calm as she slips into the hospital room where Jessie lay barely conscious. The way the door wasn’t pushed completely closed. She’s a ghost, moving through shadows, her identity as fluid and false as the name she used to check in. Nothing new reveals itself, and yet I keep watching, as if sheer repetition might force the truth to show its face.The only details we have come not from the grainy footage but from Jessie and the one brave witness— who barely caught a glimpse of her before being injected as he slapped her. Blonde hair, somewhere in her mid-40s to early 50s. Long red acrylic nails like blood-tipped claws. And possibly injured—bruised or worse—after a scuffle during the attack. That last part is pure speculation, but it’s all we have at this point. But having been slapped by a

Lincoln waited until the nurse arrived and the officer took his place at my side to go retrieve the car to meet us at the entrance. The whole concept of being escorted by a man branded with handcuffs and multiple weapons was both foreign and frightening to me, but I wouldn’t protest if it meant I was safe. And at this moment I was.As we rounded the corner the next corridor, I feel a presence cornering as well as feel panic rise in me for what feels like a millisecond. Thankfully, my eyes were able to focus and I see Officer Miller approaching. I feel my heart pounding restlessly, trying to settle itself as I try to catch my breath.“Hi Jessie, good to see you’re being discharged.” Assuming this was a formality that they’d continue working on my case, I tried not to get my hopes up especially when I noticed that Officer Pennet was absent.“Thank you.” I say politely as the nurse stops just before him, allowing us to speak privately as her and the other officer leave for a moment. I ma

I was profoundly grateful to Lincoln for letting me spend the night at his place. After everything that had happened—after almost dying twice—the thought of being alone in the quiet dark filled me with a kind of fear I hadn’t known I was capable of feeling. I understood that sooner or later, I’d have to confront those fears, dismantle them piece by piece. But that reckoning belonged to another day. Today, I had more urgent battles to fight, and survival came first. Lincoln’s room was warm and dimly lit, offering a sense of refuge I hadn’t felt in what felt like ages. Every night I had spent at home felt like a night spent in prison or worse, a horror film. Lincoln pulled back the thick black satin sheets and tucked me in gently, wrapping me in a cocoon that smelled like him—clean, musky, familiar. His scent clung to the fabric and seeped into the air around me like a protective spell, and for the first time in days, I felt calm. My muscles unknotted, my chest stopped trembling with i

The more I tried to wrap my head around the idea that my so-called husband had been hiding so many things from me, the more my mind became a whirlpool of confusion and dread. It was as though each thought I tried to focus on only led to another one, spinning faster and faster, until the edges of my thoughts blurred into something unrecognizable. It was almost as though my mind was an endless whirlpool. Was everything a lie? Was I really this blind? How could I have missed all the signs? How could I have let this happen? Why did I let it get to the point of my (almost) demise?“Ivy, did you bring your tools today?” Lincoln’s voice cut through the storm of thoughts swirling in my head, his words grounding me, if only momentarily.“Of course. I never leave without them, why?” Ivy asked, my breath shook as I listened, not entirely sure where this conversation was headed, but sensing it wasn’t good.“I’d like to check a few of Jessie’s items just in case,” he said, his tone businesslike, t