Entangled in his sheet のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Consciousness didn’t return gently.It slammed into me.Pain stroke first, then a bang. The light was so sharp that it felt like knives behind my eyes.My chest rose in a shaky breath, my throat was dry and my lungs were burning like I’d been dragged back from underwater. Everything smelled sterile, antiseptic, plastic, and cold air. I scanned through the room and down to the bed I was lying on. “Hospital?” The realization struck on me like I'm being held captive.I tried to move but it was a big mistake.A bolt of pain sliced through my abdomen, hot and deep, forcing a low, broken sound out of me before I could stop it.I heard his voice.“Easy.” he whispered low, softly and was too close.My eyes snapped open.“Julian!!!”He was right here beside the bed, leaning forward like he hadn’t moved in hours. His shirt wrinkled, tie gone, sleeves rolled, dark hair falling messily across his forehead. His jaw was tight, shadowed with stubble, his eyes bloodshot but was locked on me li

When I woke again, the world felt muted, gentler.My body was heavy, sunk into the mattress.The sharp pain had dulled to a lingering ache.My gaze scanned round the room; it wasn't an ICU but a private room. And I wasn't alone.Ms. Fonte sat beside the bed, holding my hand as if I might vanish. Mr. Fonte stood near the window, arms folded, posture rigid, but his eyes never left me.I stirred. My mother gasped.“Maria!” Tears welled immediately. “Thank God.”My father approached, relief softening his features. “You gave us quite a fright.”Confusion clouded my thoughts. “What happened?”My parents exchanged a glance. Something unspoken passed between them.Ms. Fonte squeezed my hand gently.“There’s something you need to know.”Dread tightened in my stomach, not pain this time, but fear and curiosity.Her voice was soft. “You’re pregnant, sweetheart.”Time seemed to stop.Pregnant!! The word echoes like a sting.The word hung in the air, heavy and inescapable.My fingers tightened o

I watched her from the shadows long before anyone in that sterile corridor knew I had arrived. The hospital lights were too bright, too cold, but they caught her hair and turned it to soft gold for a fleeting second. In that moment, everything else vanished, the debts I had collected over months, the power I wielded like a blade, the money that bought silence from men who should have spoken. None of it existed. Only her.She moved with such careful tension, trying to appear calm when her body betrayed her at every step. Her long legs shifting under the thin hospital gown, the subtle sway of her hips that I had mapped with my hands so many times before. I remembered the exact way her thighs trembled when I touched them, the arch of her back when she surrendered. Every shiver, every small, involuntary sound she had ever made under me, they lived in my blood now. She was mine, not Julian’s. She's never truly his. I had allowed her to slip away once, and that single mistake had car

I leaned back in the black leather chair, the city lights slicing through the tall windows like jagged edges of glass. The study felt smaller tonight, the air heavier. My head throbbed, not from drink, not from lack of sleep, but from the slow, steady burn of anger that had been building since Veronica stormed out of the hospital earlier.She had come in like a storm, her eyes wild, voice sharp, pulling me into her obsession again. Catrina or Maria. Whoever she really was. The name alone made my jaw tighten. She had walked into that room smiling, laughing with Julian, touching his arm as though she belonged there. As though the past had never happened. As though the accident that should have ended her had been nothing more than a bad dream.I clenched my fists on the desk. The wood groaned under the pressure. She was not supposed to be alive. No one walked away from wreckage like that. And yet she had. She had returned, taken a new name, a new life, and somehow convinced everyone

I knew something was wrong the instant the car pulled away with her inside.Not the loud kind of wrong, no shouting, no slammed doors. Just something colder, sharper and deliberate.I stood on the hospital kerb long after the taillights melted into the evening traffic, hands deep in my pockets, face blank while my security detail hovered nearby, pretending they weren’t watching their boss come apart in slow motion.“She’ll call when she reaches her parents’ place, sir,” one of them offered, his voice careful, like he was stepping around broken glass.I didn’t reply.Because Catrina didn’t run. Not from anything. She fought, teeth bared, fire in her eyes. She clawed through problems until blood appeared, usually someone else’s. This? Running to her parents’ house with our daughter in tow?This was not a retreat.This was a move. A calculated step.And that chilled me more than Vincenzo’s visit ever did.I slid into the back seat without a word.The door closed with a solid thud, sealin