Wet For Daddy のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 110

Chloe’s POVBy the time I got home, my body finally gave up pretending it was okay.The adrenaline that had carried me through the boardroom drained all at once, leaving behind a hollow, aching exhaustion. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes, breathing slowly until the room stopped spinning.I had gone.I had sat there alone.I had answered every question.And I survived it.But survival didn’t feel like victory. It felt like barely standing after a storm, unsure whether another wave was already on its way.I pushed myself off the door and walked into the living room, dropping my bag on the couch. My hands were still trembling slightly. I pressed my palms together, grounding myself, reminding my body that the danger was over. For now.They hadn’t broken me.They had tried, though. Over and over. Same questions dressed in different words. Same looks of doubt. Same hunger for a confession I didn’t have to give.Margaret’s eyes haunted me the most.Cold. Shar

Chloe’s POVMorning came too fast.I barely slept, my mind restless, my body heavy in a way that felt unfamiliar. I forced myself out of bed, showered, dressed, moved like a machine running on obligation rather than will. There was only one place I needed to be.The hospital.The drive there was quiet. Too quiet. I watched the city pass by, people living their lives without knowing how fragile everything could become in one night, one mistake, one betrayal.When I stepped into the hospital, the smell hit me immediately. Antiseptic. Clean. Cold. It always made my chest tighten. I signed in, nodded at the nurses who now recognized me, and walked down the familiar corridor toward Hilda’s room.Each step felt heavier than the last.I pushed the door open gently.She lay there exactly as I had left her. Still. Peaceful in a way that hurts to look at. Machines surrounded her, their steady beeping the only proof that she was still here. Tubes, wires, monitors. All keeping her alive while the

Chloe’s POV She entered a private members’ lounge downtown. Not a public restaurant. Not somewhere cameras flashed easily. I waited ten minutes before going in.I kept my head down. Ordered coffee. Sat far enough away not to be obvious but close enough to see her reflection in the mirrored wall.She wasn’t alone.A man sat across from her. Mid-fifties. Expensive suit. Familiar face.My stomach tightened.He was one of the board members.They weren’t eating.They weren’t smiling.They were arguing in low voices.Margaret leaned forward, her posture rigid, her jaw tight. The man shook his head, tapping something on the table between them. A folder. Thick. Official.I couldn’t hear the words, but I could read the tension.This wasn’t charity work.This was damage control.I subtly lifted my phone, pretending to adjust my hair, and angled the camera slightly. Not obvious. Just enough.Click.Another.Click.Margaret’s hand slammed lightly on the table at one point. Controlled anger. The

Chloe’s POV The hallway was carpeted, quiet, insulated from the noise below. I stepped out and slowed my pace, pretending to check room numbers as if I were looking for someone.Then I heard it.Margaret’s voice.Low.Sharp.From behind one of the doors at the far end.I moved carefully, stopping near a decorative console table halfway down the corridor. Close enough to listen. Far enough not to be obvious.“…you promised me this would be handled,” she said, her tone no longer polished.Mr. Chuwa responded, voice tense. “I am handling it. But the logs—”“I don’t care about the logs,” she snapped. “I care about the outcome.”My breath stilled.Outcome.Not the truth.Outcome.“She’s digging,” he muttered.“Let her dig,” Margaret replied coldly. “She won’t find anything that leads back to me.”My fingers curled slowly against my palm.Oh, you would be surprised.“She’s more stubborn than we anticipated,” he added.Margaret let out a soft, irritated sound. “Then we escalate.”The word h

Drake’s POV The moment Chloe hung up on me, I knew something had shifted.Her voice wasn’t just angry. It was sharp. Calculated. Like she had seen something she wasn’t ready to tell me yet.And that worried me more than her shouting.I stayed seated at my desk long after the call ended, staring at nothing. If Margaret had mentioned pregnancy, it meant one of two things.Either she was guessing.Or she was watching Chloe more closely than I realized.Neither option sat well with me.Margaret was many things. Cold. Strategic. Ruthless. But she did not move without purpose. If she suspected Chloe was pregnant, she would not sit on that information.She would weaponize it.Unless she wasn’t sure.Which meant this was still speculation.Good.Speculation can be controlled.Proof cannot.I leaned back in my chair and exhaled slowly.Chloe thought I might have told Margaret.The fact that she even suspected that told me how alone she still felt in this war.I couldn’t blame her.Trust doesn