Semua Bab Shotgun Wedding: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Diana’s POVMy heart was pounding fast and raw, wild rhythm echoing through my chest, as I reached for the bedroom door. The question wouldn’t leave me: what happened in this house? It kept scratching at the back of my mind, louder with each breath. The image of the old office replayed itself again and again: the thick carpet of dust, the suffocating stillness, and the servant’s horrified look when she caught me standing there.That office once belonged to Gordon’s late father. But why had they abandoned it? Why let it decay like a sealed tomb? Dust lay like ash over every surface, and the cobwebs were so heavy they drooped from the corners like hanging veils of time.And that servant, her expression. It wasn’t just a surprise. It was fear. As if she’d seen a ghost step out of that room.I shivered. I need to find Camila. Whatever secrets are buried in this house, she’s the only one who might hold the key.But as I reached for the doorknob, another thought broke through: Anita. She’d

Diana’s POVWhen we stepped out of the warehouse, the world exploded in chaos. Red and blue lights pulsed through the misty air, slicing across faces, metal, and wet asphalt. Police cars lined the road like barricades, their sirens wailing, a helicopter circling above with its searchlight cutting through the darkness. The night smelled of gasoline, rain, and authority.For a second, I froze. How many officers did Gordon summon? Why this display of power? A fleet of armed men swarming over two kidnappers felt theatrical, excessive. Typical of Gordon. He didn’t just want to rescue me; he wanted an audience for it.I glanced sideways at him as he guided me through the maze of uniforms. His hand rested heavily on my shoulder, firm, proprietary. His jacket draped around me like a shroud. The faint scent of his cologne, oakwood and power stirred memories I didn’t want. His jaw was set, eyes fixed ahead, unreadable under the flashing lights.Before I could process the chaos, I caught sight o

Diana’s POVThe six men stood waiting outside Gordon’s office, stiff silhouettes against the frosted glass, their postures disciplined, their silence heavy with expectation. I could hear the faint rustle of uniforms and the tick of Gordon’s antique clock cutting through the quiet. The office still smelled faintly of him, clean cologne and polished oak, an aroma that both grounded and irritated me.I sat behind his massive desk, the leather chair swallowing me whole, pretending its weight meant authority and not confinement. The morning light filtered through the blinds in thin stripes, slicing across the glossy surface of the desk and the files Gordon had left neatly stacked.I called in the first person.The door clicked open. The first candidate entered with the measured gait of someone used to surveillance, calm, focused, unreadable."Good morning, ma’am," he greeted, standing tall before the desk."Good morning. Have a seat."He passed a manila folder across the desk. I flipped it

Diana’s POVI had thought Gordon was bluffing when he said he’d get me a personal guard. The words had sounded like one of his passing whims, something tossed out just to sound considerate. But the moment I walked into his office and saw six men waiting, lined up, rigid, polished, I realised he’d meant every word.I froze in the doorway for a heartbeat. Six pairs of eyes turned toward me. My stomach tightened. I should’ve been relieved, maybe even grateful. Instead, unease coiled in my gut. Gordon had brought them here. Would their loyalty belong to me or to him?He didn’t stay to find out. After a brief word about "leaving me to it," he walked out, his cologne lingering in the air like a warning.Fine. I’d make use of his office.One by one, I called the men in. The interviews blurred together, strong handshakes, trained smiles, the same rehearsed promises of loyalty. I intended to dismiss them all, regardless of how impressive their credentials looked or how perfectly they answered

Diana's POV“Camila?” The name slipped out before Anita could speak.Both sisters froze. Anita’s brows drew together, suspicion flickering across her face, while Camila stared at me with quiet confusion. I stood rooted by the doorway, my throat tightening, my pulse thudding against my ribs. She’s alive.The woman on the bed, my once, dear friend, the only person who’d ever shown me kindness in that mansion, sat with both legs stretched out, bandaged from knee to ankle. She looked pale and tired, but her eyes were unmistakable. Camila.“How did you know my big sister’s name?” Anita asked sharply.Panic clawed its way up my chest. They don’t recognize me. My tongue felt heavy, my brain scrambling for a lie that wouldn’t betray who I was.“I…” I forced a small, uncertain smile. “I saw her picture in a file,” I lied quickly.“File?” Camila echoed, her tone puzzled.“Yes,” I replied, steadying my voice. “An employee’s file.”Camila tilted her head. “Mrs Smith now keeps employees’ files wit