Mr. CEO's Darling Shame のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 27

ADRIAN’S POVThe estate rose out of the hills like something lifted from an oil painting—white stone, iron-worked balconies, hedges cut into the shapes of lions. Even the air smelled cultivated.I stepped from the car, smoothing my tie, telling myself I belonged anywhere I decided to stand. Still, a small, unwelcome voice whispered that my shoes were scuffing marble worth more than my entire office floor.A guard met me at the door. “Mr. Voss. This way, please.”The entrance hall was as quiet as a Cathedral. Sunlight spilled through arched windows onto black-and-white floors so glossy they caught my reflection in shards. Above, a chandelier glittered, casting a soft but wealthy ambience to the room.They seated me in a reception lounge that could have been mistaken for a museum—portraits of old money glowering from gilded frames, the faint tick of a grandfather clock marking each second I was kept waiting.Ten minutes passed.Then twenty.I checked my watch for the fourth time. She in

ADRIAN’S POVFrom the driver’s seat, I watched as Warren descended the marble steps, unhurried, talking to someone just inside the doorway. The corners of his mouth curved — that arrogant half-smile of his that made boardrooms feel smaller.And then she appeared.Not fully — just a silhouette behind frosted glass. The way she stood, the quiet poise in her outline — deliberate, graceful. Familiarity tugged at me. I couldn’t see her face, but there was something about the way she lifted her chin, the stillness that radiated authority without needing to speak.Miss A.Even the name irritated me.I wasn’t sure what angered me more — that she’d made me wait over an hour to see a representative, or that the mere sound of her title had started to follow me everywhere like a ghost I couldn’t shake.My jaw tightened as I watched him descend the steps, adjusting his cufflinks as if he’d just secured a victory. His car — a sleek black Jaguar, because of course it was — waited at the curb.He cau

AVA’S POVThe phone call came barely two hours after I dropped the boys off at school.At first, I thought it was one of those little things — maybe Aaron had forgotten his lunch again, or Aiden had drawn on the classroom walls like he sometimes did when his imagination got the better of him.But when the headmistress’s voice came through the line — calm but clipped, too measured to be casual — my stomach dropped.“Mrs. Sinclair,” she said, “I’m afraid there’s been… an incident involving your sons.”“An incident?” My grip on the phone tightened. “Are they hurt?”“No,” she replied quickly. “They’re fine. But I’d appreciate it if you could come in as soon as possible.”I was out the door before she even ended the call.****When I arrived, both boys were sitting side by side outside the headmistress’s office — legs swinging, uniforms rumpled, faces defiant. There were faint traces of dirt on their sleeves. A dark bruise was blooming on Aaron’s knuckle, and there was a faint scratch unde