Lahat ng Kabanata ng Tangled With The Other Brother: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

Elena's Point Of View“And where do you think you’re coming from, Elena?”His voice froze me mid-step, sharp and dripping with authority, that same cold entitlement that used to send a shiver through me… not the good kind.I turned slowly, hand still on the staircase railing. Graham stood a few feet away, in a grey shirt rolled up to his elbows and black slacks, like he’d just come from a photo shoot for 'Controlling Husbands Monthly'. His jaw was clenched, a glass of scotch dangling from his fingers. The veins on his arm bulged like he was barely holding it together.I raised a brow, brushing my fingers through my hair, still slightly tousled from the wind and Jaxx’s intoxicating proximity earlier. “Is that how you greet your wife now? With an interrogation?”He took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing. “Answer me.”I scoffed and descended the remaining steps, heels clicking against the marble like war drums. “Out. I was out, Graham. Not that it’s any of your business.”His lips part

Elena's Point Of ViewGraham stood, voice strained and commanding. “Enough! Elena…”“No,” I interrupted, rising to my feet, facing him with fire in my veins. “And if you’re not okay with it, let’s get divorced.”That stopped him cold.“What?” His voice cracked. “I’m not divorcing you. You’re my wife.”Lillian’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What?”I crossed my arms. “Then make a choice, Graham. It’s either you accept it, or we divorce. Choose one.”His jaw clenched, eyes boring into mine, as if trying to figure out if I was bluffing. “You’re using my words against me,” he whispered, almost like he didn’t believe it.“Yes, I am,” I said boldly. “Because they were never fair in the first place.”“You can’t just… Elena, this is different.”“Oh, is it?” I snapped, laughing bitterly. “If you can have a mistress… oh wait, sorry, a girlfriend since you initiated the open marriage, why can’t I have a boyfriend?”“Because you’re my wife!” he shouted, face red, hand slamming the table so hard the

Elena's Point Of ViewTHE FOLLOWING NIGHTI deliberately took my time.The event was scheduled for 9PM, and I began my makeup at 7:45. I spent fifteen minutes brushing my hair, then another fifteen staring at myself in the mirror.I applied foundation slowly, carefully… then removed it entirely, just to start over. There was no rush. Why should I be early to an event where no one cared whether I showed up?Why go on time to parade myself before vultures who already picked me apart behind closed doors?I left the house at 8:30PM sharp.By the time I stepped into the grand hall, the atmosphere was already thick with perfume, champagne bubbles, and hushed whispers.Golden chandeliers hung above the crowd like frozen fireworks. Long, sleek tables were adorned with crystal and velvet. A classical string quartet played softly near the stage.Everyone was dressed to kill.I wore the gown Graham picked out… an off-shoulder silk dress that shimmered like cold moonlight. I hated that I looked s

Elena's Point Of ViewMy fingers trembled as I braced myself against the sink, trying to breathe, trying to think… trying not to remember how it felt when his mouth was on me, when my body gave in, when I whimpered his name like a prayer I swore I’d never say again.The bathroom echoed with silence, but I wasn’t alone.Not really.His presence lingered like an imprint on my skin, in my lungs, under my ribs. My knees still wobbled from the afterwave, from the raw, relentless way he devoured me like I was made to be undone by him.And God… his eyes.The way he looked at me right before he stood up, lips glistening with the taste of my weakness, licking them slow… so fucking slow, like he wanted to etch that moment into eternity.Then he leaned in, his mouth brushed the shell of my ear, heat ghosting down my spine. I shivered, powerless to stop it.“If you need me…” his voice rasped, low, thick, laced with dangerous promise.Then… God, he bent, picked up my ruined panties from the floor,

Elena's Point Of ViewI didn't even bother changing into anything fancy. I was already exhausted from the performance I had to put on just to breathe inside this house. I pulled on a silk robe over my nightwear, tied it tight at the waist, and brushed my hair back into a sleek bun. Nothing extra. No makeup. No jewelry. No mask. Just me. The barest version of the woman they all loved to mock.My slippers clicked softly against the marble as I made my way downstairs. The air was thick… no clatter of dishes or hum of conversation. Just silence.But not the peaceful kind.The heavy, strained silence of tension soaked in expectations I could never meet.The scent of freshly brewed coffee hit my nose first, followed by the warm aroma of pancakes and eggs. You’d think it would comfort me. It didn’t. It only reminded me of the mornings we used to sit across this very table… Graham and I… laughing over burnt toast, teasing each other over who forgot to buy milk. Back when love was real… or at