All Chapters of Craving The Enemy's Husband: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Chapter 71: She will pay **Bryans POV** Matilda was still standing there, hair a little mussed from Bella’s grip but somehow managing to make it look intentional, like a deliberate tousle for effect. She was still somewhat panting. A smug little curve still played at her lips, the kind of expression that didn’t need to be loud to be infuriating. She’d planted herself in the center of the foyer like she was part of the décor, an unwanted piece of modern art Bella would never hang on her walls, but couldn’t quite toss out without shattering something in the process. Her emerald dress still hugged every curve, though now it had a faint wrinkle at the waist, a quiet testimony to the scuffle. “I’m not leaving,” she said, her voice smooth as poured honey, but with a sharp undertone, a steel edge hidden in the sweetness. Her eyes flicked over Bella just long enough to register, then dismissed her entirely, like she was a mere accessory in the room. The full weight of her gaze settled on

Chapter 73: A rainy Day**Tony’s POV**Drowning in whiskey and regret while thinking of Christiana, had become unbearable. Driving gave me an illusion of control, though my life had spiraled far past the point of steering it straight.As I slowed near the bus stop, a figure caught my attention. She was standing there in the rain, arms wrapped around herself, her clothes plastered to her body by the storm. I blinked against the downpour, and then recognition sank in.Matilda, the stall thief.She was around Bryan’s Estate axis and I couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing there. Is there any possibility that she went to the estate?She was drenched, shivering, mascara bleeding down her cheeks in dark rivulets, but the moment she lifted her face toward the road, her eyes locked on my car.Before I could decide whether to keep driving, my hands betrayed me, easing off the gas. I don’t know if I should call it guilt, or just human instinct but it made me parked at her direction and wi

Chapter 75: Diane Adams **Third Persons POV** The black Mercedes purred softly along the lonely stretch of highway, its tinted windows turning the blazing late-afternoon sun into a muted golden wash. Diane sat in the back seat like she was on a throne with one leg crossed over the other, the skirt of her tailored cream suit falling just right, the heel of her Louboutin catching the light every time she shifted. Her manicured fingers swirled the ice in her crystal tumbler of sparkling water, each clink a delicate, controlled rhythm. She was in a sort of mood that only came when a plan had begun to bear fruit, when every piece she had moved was sliding into place exactly as she had intended. The Bluetooth chimed softly as it connected to the car’s system, and Matilda’s laugh burst into the quiet, bright and satisfied. “You should’ve seen her face, Diane,” Matilda’s voice bubbled through the speakers, dripping with mischief. “Bryan walked in, Bella was standing there all proud and

Chapter 77: A Revelation *Christiana’s POV* I decided to take advantage of this weekend to be a step closer to my mission. Tony had borrowed me his car when I promised him one of my Dad’s sedan. Does he have to be such a gold digger? The deeper I drove into the old district, the more it felt like I was shedding years in reverse The clean lines of the city, the polished streets, the glass towers that caught the sunlight in sharp, expensive angles had vanished behind me like they’d never existed. Here, the roads sagged under years of neglect. The asphalt was cracked and buckled, riddled with potholes deep enough to snap an axle if you weren’t careful. My tires dipped into them with low, complaining thuds, the steering wheel shivering under my palms. The houses leaned slightly, as if the ground beneath them had shifted over time and no one bothered to set them straight again. The air hung heavy with the metallic scent of rain-soaked earth even though the sky was dry, layered with

Chapter 79: Grief **Bryan’s POV** I had been in my study, half-slumped in the chair, papers scattered around me like the aftermath of a battle I hadn’t cared to finish fighting. My head had been nodding forward, my body betraying the exhaustion I had refused to acknowledge. My phone buzzed on my desk and it irritated, I didn’t even glance at it. Late evening calls were never good. Usually some refinery manager with another pointless report, some crisis that wasn’t really a crisis. My hand hovered, indecisive, ready to let it go to voicemail, but just as much as I wanted to ignore, I felt the sudden urgency to pick it up. “Mr. Adams,” a man’s voice said, low and careful “Yes.” “I am calling from Baylor St. Luke’s Medical Center.” He said like he was holding something fragile. “It’s about your mother.” My throat closed instantly, my back straightened in the chair. “What about her?” There was a pause long enough for dread to settle into my bones like ice. I just knew it was bad