All Chapters of Unworthy No More : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Author's POV Nathaniel Blake moved through the dimly lit streets of Chicago as though the city itself bent to his will. The hum of streetlights and the occasional honk of impatient drivers were mere background noise to the storm inside him. He had spent nights staring at footage of Isla Hart, the woman who had spurned him, the mother of the child he had once mocked, the senator whose every smile and gesture now fanned the flames of his obsession.He clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking as he adjusted his coat. Every movement he made was deliberate. Every glance he cast over his shoulder calculated. For months, he had been quietly gathering fragments of her life, public appearances, speeches, even mundane charity visits. But tonight, he wanted something closer. Personal. Intimate.From the shadows across the street, his operative team monitored the Hart-Langston residence. Cameras were discreet, almost invisible. A team of two trailed her chauffeur, another pair shad

Isla The whole house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside. Sophie had finally fallen asleep, curled into her blankets like a small, trusting planet revolving around our little world. Alexander had gone to check on the new security installations he’d insisted on, leaving me with a cup of tea I barely tasted.I could not shake the feeling that someone was watching. It was not a single moment, it had been creeping in for weeks, subtle and almost imperceptible. A face in the crowd that lingered too long, a black SUV parked just a block away, the faint hum of an unfamiliar ringtone I never answered.At first, I told myself it was nothing. Politics always brought eyes, and the world was full of strangers. But my instincts, honed over years of mistrust, whispered a warning I could not ignore.I pressed my palms to the warm ceramic of the mug, inhaling the faint scent of chamomile. My chest tightened. I have been too comfortable. Maybe I had let my guard down, lulled by Alexa

Isla“If he even looks at her wrong....” Lia started, rising from her seat. “Lia,” Alexander said, calm but final. “He wants you angry. That’s leverage. And that’s dangerous.” She froze. “You’re telling me to sit back?” “I’m telling you,” he replied evenly, “that the most dangerous thing you can give a predator is proof he’s getting to you.”My father spoke again. “What does he want, exactly?” Alexander did not answer. I did. “He doesn’t want revenge,” I said. “He wants restoration.” My mother stared. “Restoration of what?” “Ownership,” I answered. “Control. He doesn’t want to hurt me.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “He wants to return me to the place he thinks I still belong.”Lia slammed her hand lightly against her thigh. “He doesn’t own you!” she snapped. “He never did!” A softness passed through my chest. “I know,” I said. “But men like him don’t believe in consent. They believe in territory.” Alexander’s jaw flexed. “And he stepped onto

Alexander Langston Power never falls loudly at first. It fractures in silence, behind closed doors, inside files no one thought would ever be opened. It collapses in the small things, delayed calls, unreturned messages, sudden disappearances from rooms where certain men used to own the air. Tonight, I felt the fracture. Not in panic. Not in chaos. But in the way the world suddenly held its breath. My phone had been vibrating on the desk for a while before I picked it up. Not because I did not hear it. But because I wanted to feel how long someone would dare to demand my attention. When I finally looked at the screen, it was not a number. It was a secure line. Three rapid vibrations. Pause. Then two slow pulses. Federal protocol. I answered. “They’ve moved,” Ruiz said. I leaned back in my chair, eyes already on the wall screen. “How deep?” His exhale came slow. “Not deep enough for comfort, but far enough that Harlan’s office just went silent.” A faint smile touched my mouth. Throu

Nathaniel BlakeScreens flickered, dashboards glowed faintly in green and blue, but the hum that had once been comforting, the hum of power, control, influence, was gone. I leaned forward in my chair, eyes narrowing, jaw tight. Something was wrong.I tried to call Ramirez first, my legal broker. A simple man who always knew how to smooth over the edges, who had moved money, maneuvered contracts, and made every problem vanish before it could touch me.No answer. I tried again. And again. Nothing. A small knot of panic grew in my chest. Ramirez never left me hanging. I leaned back, staring at the blinking lights of the secure line as if sheer will could bring him through. The phone buzzed on my desk. A message from an unknown number. “Custody transfer initiated. You are advised to stand down.”I spat the coffee I hadn’t finished. “What the...”Then the feeds started to ping. Security cameras at my private hangar, the one Ramirez always used for arrivals and departures, flashed red. A te