Semua Bab His Wife On Paper : Bab 81 - Bab 90

Eliora's POV The morning had felt like a gift I hadn’t earned. The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window was unusually bright, casting warm squares onto the linoleum where Ezra was currently busy painting his toast with far too much jam."Mommy, you’re humming," Ezra noted, his dark curls bouncing as he looked up with a sticky grin.I stopped, realizing I was indeed humming a soft melody I hadn't thought of in years. My heart felt... lighter. The crushing weight Lydia had placed on my chest yesterday had been partially lifted, replaced by the memory of a sidewalk, a bewildered old lady, and Kian’s laughter."She’s more than humming, kiddo," Zoey joked, leaning against the counter as she sipped her coffee. She gave me a long, speculative look over the rim of her mug. "She’s glowing. Did the Famous Writer finish a difficult chapter, or did something happen in the moonlight?""Just a good night’s sleep, Zo," I lied, though the heat rising in my cheeks betrayed me.Even Elijah, w

Eliora's POV The interior of Elijah’s car was a tomb of silent luxury. The scent was different here—not the raw, woodsy musk that clung to Kian’s office, but a sterilized, expensive fragrance that smelled like new money and high-end dry cleaning. It was a scent that usually meant safety, but today, it felt like it was stealing my oxygen.I sat in the passenger seat, my hands folded tightly in my lap, staring out at the blurred skyline of New York. My head was still spinning from the confrontation in the office. Kian’s smirk, his challenge to win me back, and the way he looked at me like he was the only one who truly saw me—it was all a haunting echo in the back of my mind. I tried to push the image of him away, to replace it with the man currently driving the car, but the harder I tried, the more the silence between Elijah and me felt like a physical weight.Beside me, Elijah’s hands were gripped tight on the steering wheel at ten and two, his knuckles a sharp, bloodless white. He ha

Kian's POV "You look like you’ve just run a marathon, Eliora. Or are you just that desperate to get back into my presence?"I watched her through the windshield before I even put the car in park beside her. She was breathless, her chest heaving under the expensive fabric of her coat, her cheeks flushed a deep, frantic rose. She didn't look like the composed, icy writer the world knew. She looked like a fugitive.I stepped out of the car, and turned towards her, the cool autumn air hitting my face, but the heat coming off her was palpable even from three feet away. I held her designer bag just out of reach, watching the way her eyes darted to it, then to me, then to the park behind her. She was vibrating with a nervous energy that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "The bag, Kian," she rasped, her voice skipping a beat. "Just give me the bag."I took a slow step toward her, closing the distance until the scent of her perfume—that haunting mix of vanilla and something shar

Eliora's POV The heavy oak door of the brownstone slammed shut, the deadbolt clicking into place with a finality that made my knees wobble. I didn't move. I just leaned my back against the wood, my lungs burning as if I’d actually run the distance from the park. In my arms, Ezra was a warm, heavy weight, his small hands still clutching that tailless dinosaur."Mommy? Why are we running?" his small voice muffled against my neck.I couldn't answer him. God I didn't know what to say. Should I say we were running away from your father, baby don't worry it's no big deal?I just squeezed him tighter, the scent of his hair, sunlight and baby shampoo, the only thing keeping me from spinning out."Margaret, take him upstairs? Please. Get him some juice, put on a cartoon. Anything," I managed to rasp out.Margaret was already there, her face a mask of practiced calm, though her eyes were darting to the window. She took Ezra from me, and for a second, my arms felt dangerously light. As they dis

Eliora's POV The click of my bedroom door felt like the first real breath I’d taken in hours.Outside in the hallway, the house was silent, save for the faint, muffled sound of Elijah’s footsteps retreating toward his own wing. The dinner had been an exercise in endurance. I’d smiled until my cheeks ached, swallowed expensive pasta that felt like sandpaper, and laughed at jokes I didn't hear. Elijah was perfect—patient, kind, and blissfully unaware of the tectonic plates shifting beneath our feet.I didn't turn on the overhead light. The amber glow of the city streetlamps filtered through the sheer curtains, casting long, skeletal shadows across the cream-colored carpet. I felt exhausted, but it was a wired, frantic kind of fatigue.My bag sat on the vanity, a dark silhouette against the mirror.I walked toward it, my movements jagged. I just wanted my silk sleep mask. I wanted to shut out the world and pretend the park hadn't happened. I reached into the side pocket, my fingers brus