All Chapters of Shotgun Wedding: Chapter 51 - Chapter 55

Third Person POVThe late afternoon sun spilled gold through the glass facade of Smith Holdings, glinting against the line of luxury cars in the private lot. Inside one of them, a black Rolls-Royce, Lucas Warren sat behind the wheel, a soft smile playing at the edge of his mouth as he pressed a phone to his ear.“Dad, I’m in,” he said quietly.Static hummed, then his father’s deep voice cut through the line.“That’s good, Lucas. You’re close enough now to protect her. But remember, you can’t stay there long. Do what you must, then get yourself and Diana out of that mansion. There’s something rotten in that Smith empire.”“Understood,” Lucas replied, before the call ended.He leaned back, exhaling. The mask of calm slipped for just a second. His eyes shifted toward the rearview mirror and froze. A man had just entered the car parked two spaces down. Lucas recognised the face. He’d seen him earlier, stepping into Diana’s office when he was heading to the elevator.His instincts sharpene

Diana’s POVMorning came too quickly.Light leaked through the curtains in thin, silvery streaks, painting the room in fragments of dawn. Something heavy rested across my waist. Warm. Alive. A slow, steady breath ghosted the back of my neck.I froze.“Gordon?”A low grunt answered, half asleep, half possessive.My eyes snapped open. His arm was still draped over me.“What are you doing in my bed?” I asked, voice sharp, though I barely recognised it myself.He shifted behind me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. “Look around,” he murmured, pulling his arm away. “You’re in my bed.”My heart stumbled. I sat up quickly, scanning the room, the headboard, the faint scent of his cologne, the expensive stillness. He was right. I was in his bed.The couch across the room still held the pillow and blanket I’d used last night. My mind scrambled for answers. How did I.......?“Don’t play games with me, Gordon,” I said, swinging my legs off the bed. “How did I end up here?”He gave a small,

Diana’s POVI finished up the last of my work and picked up my phone, my legs crossed neatly over one another. The office was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant chatter from the floor below. I needed a distraction. I opened my browser and searched for the latest update on Charles Moore.The headline alone was enough to make my stomach twist:“Charles Moore Exposed: Living a Double Life as Orevelle’s Board Member.”I clicked. The article was brutal.“It appears Mr Charles Moore was living a double life for years, one of luxury, one of frailty. Colleagues at Orevelle knew him as Frederick Gibbson: long hair, ducktail beard, thick eyebrows, heavy lashes. A disguise so effective, even his closest associates never suspected a thing.”“Wow,” I whispered, leaning back in my chair. “So people really do that? Two faces. One strong, one dying. Like they’re twenty seconds from the grave in one body, and running marathons in the other.”I scrolled past the story