All Chapters of Fated love: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

‎The soft glow of the chandelier spreads warmth across the Jones family dining room. The table is set beautifully—white plates, shining silverware, bowls of steaming vegetables, and the delicious scent of roasted chicken filling the air. The four of them sit together—John at the head of the table, his wife Emily beside him, and their two daughters, Caroline and Ava, facing each other. It is one of those rare evenings when everyone is home at once.‎‎The air hums with casual chatter. Ava, elegant yet lively, is laughing softly as she stirs the sauce on her plate. Caroline, the older sister, sits with a confident posture, occasionally glancing at her phone but still listening to the conversation. John watches his daughters with quiet pride, while Emily’s eyes soften at the sight of her family all together.‎‎Between mouthfuls, Emily turns to her younger daughter.‎“Ava,” she says gently, “when will you open your clinic? It’s been a while since you graduated. You should have started by

‎Sebastian’s fingers tighten around the edge of his glass, his eyes dark with quiet anger. The low light of the lounge flickers against his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw. Jackson’s teasing tone hangs in the air like smoke, irritating and impossible to ignore. For a moment, the only sound between the three men is the faint clinking of ice in their drinks.‎‎Sebastian lifts his glass and takes a deep gulp, the bitterness of the liquid burning down his throat. His eyes meet Jackson’s, and in that instant, something changes in his gaze — a determination, cold and sharp.‎“Two months from now,” he says firmly, voice steady but heavy with meaning.‎‎Jackson and Edward both stare at him in disbelief. Jackson’s smirk fades into surprise, while Edward’s brows knit together in confusion.‎“Two months?” Jackson repeats, trying to process the words. “You’re serious?”‎‎Sebastian simply nods. “Yes. Two months from now.”‎‎Edward leans back slowly, his thoughts spinning. Marriage? N

‎Claire is in her room, the gentle hum of the evening air brushing against the curtains. The faint scent of lavender from the diffuser fills the space, wrapping the room in calm warmth. She sits on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, when the sound of water splashing stops. The door to the bathroom opens, and Edward walks out, a towel hanging low around his waist, droplets gliding down his chest.‎‎Her breath catches — she glances at him briefly, then looks away in a rush, her cheeks burning with sudden heat.‎‎Edward chuckles softly, noticing her discomfort. “It’s not that you haven’t seen me like this before,” he teases, his voice low and playful as he sits beside her on the bed.‎‎Claire’s fingers twist nervously around the hem of her nightdress. She doesn’t answer. The air between them thickens with unspoken tension — a strange mixture of familiarity and hesitation.‎‎Edward’s hand moves instinctively to her waist, drawing closer to her. She feels his warmth behind her, the

‎Claire continues walking with the second body, feet crunching on the gravel as the estate gate yawns open. The security guard moves with the slow, professional politeness of someone used to following orders; he barely looks up when he unlocks the padlock and swings the gate wide. Night air presses cool around them; Claire can taste metal and petrol and the faint sweetness of the night-blooming jasmine near the driveway. Ahead, a black car idles in the road, glossed and silent, lights off — a dark lump against the asphalt.‎‎Her throat tightens. She knows that car. She knows the way the vehicle tilts in its suspension when someone heavy climbs in, the small, familiar cough of its engine when it’s about to pull away. Her pulse runs quick and shallow. She forces her legs to move faster.‎‎“Wait for me here, I’m coming,” she calls, breath fogging in the cold air, seeing that the distance between her and the car is still enough to let her slip in unnoticed. The words come out half comma

‎After three long, grueling hours of searching, the bodyguards returned one by one, their expressions tight with frustration and defeat. Each face reflected the same grim reality—they hadn’t found anything, no trace, no hint, no whisper of where Claire could have gone. The mansion that usually resonated with the rhythm of order and control now felt heavy with unease, a suffocating tension that seemed to hang in the air like a thick fog. Edward stood silently, his posture rigid, his jaw clenched as he watched the last bodyguard trudge back inside. His mind raced, swirling with possibilities, with every scenario more disturbing than the last.‎‎“Where could she be if not here?” Edward finally asked, his voice steady but edged with worry, a rare crack in his usually impenetrable composure. He turned to face all thirty-four of his bodyguards, thirty-four pairs of eyes staring back at him, equally exhausted and equally frustrated.‎‎“No one found her, sir,” they answered in unison, a cho