All Chapters of How To Love A Murderer.: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Chapter Forty One: The Ghost in the MachineThe penthouse felt like a museum of a dead relationship. For two days, Ian had been a ghost drifting through the halls, his silence screaming louder than any argument. The memory of Zhedya’s hands around his neck was a brand on his skin, a constant, painful reminder.“I know you’re still upset, my love,” Zhedya’s voice was like velvet as he approached. Ian didn’t turn from the window. Zhedya held out a sleek envelope. “Look. Front row tickets. For that pianist you adore. A private box, just for us. Let me make it up to you.”“I don’t want them,” Ian said, his voice flat. “Please move.”“Ian… what do you want then? If this isn’t enough…”“Are you really that shallow?” Ian spun around, his eyes burning with hurt and fury. “Why is it so hard for you? Why can’t you just say the words? ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘I was wrong.’ It’s always a new watch, a trip, a stupid concert… but never a real apology!”Zhedya’s charming smile tightened. A real apology was

Chapter Forty Three: The Slipping Noose“Hey,” Ian said, his voice a little too high. He watched Zhedya walk in, his heart pounding. He felt like a kid who’d been caught doing something bad, waiting for the explosion.“Hey, sweetheart,” Zhedya replied, his voice smooth as honey. He smiled, that perfect, heart-stopping smile, as he shrugged off his coat. Ian hurried over to take it, his movements nervous.“I saw your article,” Zhedya said, his tone light and conversational. Ian’s breath hitched. “That was… bold. Using that old photo. I wonder how you even found that? A clever move, my love. You’re thinking like a true journalist again.”“It was just… a deleted picture I found,” Ian said cautiously, searching Zhedya’s face for any sign of anger. “You’re not… angry?”“Why would I be? It’s your blog,” Zhedya said, reaching out to gently hold the side of Ian’s neck, his thumb stroking the skin there. A possessive, calming gesture. “I’m just afraid. The Mirrorist is still out there. What

Chapter Forty-Five: Foul PlayThe soft click of the pill organizer on the marble countertop made Ian flinch. He looked up from his book to see Zhedya placing a sleek, new weekly container in front of him. The pills inside were of different, brighter color than the last “What are these?” Ian’s questioning look said it all, his guard instantly going up.“I spoke with Dr. Ethan,” Zhedya began, his voice a soft, soothing balm. “We think we finally figured it out, my love. You had a rare allergy… to the binder in the old medication. It was making you sicker, not better.” He reached out, his fingers gently brushing Ian’s. “These are new. A completely different formula. Just… try them for two weeks. For me? If you don’t feel even a little better, we stop everything. I promise.”Ian’s eyes flickered from Zhedya’s pleading, earnest face down to the innocent-looking pills. A war waged inside him. But then he remembered the last two weeks…the fog had lifted, the constant nausea had faded.

Chapter Thirty Seven: Is Love Not Obsession? The morning sun in Greece was too bright, too cheerful. It felt like a lie. Ian stared at the blue diamond on his finger, the stone throwing sharp, glittering shards of light across the room. It was beautiful, but it felt heavy. Like a chain. He’d said yes. The word had fallen from his lips in a weak moment under the stars, a desperate attempt to please Zhedya, to make that intense, burning look in his eyes soften into something safer. He hadn't even had to say it twice before the cold, perfect band was slid onto his finger, locking into place. “Ughhh,” he groaned, burying his face deep into the soft pillow, trying to hide from the reality of what he’d done. The sudden buzz of his phone was like a lifeline. John’s name flashed on the screen, and a messy wave of guilt and relief crashed over him. He scrambled out of bed, his heart pounding, and stumbled out onto the balcony for a shred of privacy. “John? Hey, is your mom okay…” h

Chapter Forty-Nine: Webs and Whispers "Zhedya, it's connected. It has to be." Ian's voice was a shaky, breathless thing. He couldn't stand still, pacing the sunlit villa like a caged animal. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs. "The timing... the method... it's exactly like what happened to my bullies' parents. It's happening again. Because of me. Marcus talked to me, and now he's..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, the guilt choking him. Zhedya didn't rush. He never did. He moved like a predator who knew the hunt was already over. He approached Ian not with alarm, but with a gentle, almost patronizing concern, like a parent calming a child from a nightmare. "My love, my love, look at you." His voice was a soft, hypnotic murmur. He took Ian's hands, his grip firm and unyielding, forcing them to be still. Ian's fingers were ice-cold and trembling. "You're shaking. It terrifies me to see you like this. Your brilliant mind is creating patterns where there ar