After Betrayal, I Married The Cursed Alpha King のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

The car ride back was silent, but it wasn’t empty.Violetta watched the city slide past the window—people starting their mornings, coffee cups in hand, unaware that just hours ago she had been tied up in the dark, waiting to disappear. Life moved on so easily. That frightened her more than the guns.Her phone vibrated once.A message from Draven.I’m not following you. I promised. But I’m here if you need me. Always.She stared at the screen for a long time before locking it without replying.The next few days blurred together.Doctors insisted on checkups. HR insisted on “mental health leave.” The design team whispered, eyes full of questions no one dared ask out loud. Officially, she had fallen ill during the trip. Unofficially, everyone felt the fracture—something dark had brushed too close.At night, sleep came in fragments.She’d wake with her heart racing, fingers digging into the sheets, breath shallow as if ropes still burned her skin. Sometimes she dreamed of glowing gold eye

Violetta didn’t go home after leaving the company. Her car slowed near the park without her consciously deciding to stop. Green stretched out before her—trees heavy with leaves, a walking track damp from an earlier drizzle, benches half-empty as evening crept in. It felt… quieter than her head. She parked, stepped out, and inhaled deeply. The day had scraped her raw. Celeste. Her sharp questions hadn’t been loud or aggressive—they’d been surgical. Each one placed perfectly, like a blade slipped between ribs with a polite smile."How involved is your husband in executive decisions?" "Do you feel safe working under such… intense leadership?""You seem tense, Violetta. Is everything alright at home?"Violetta had answered carefully. Gracefully. She hadn’t slipped once. But surviving wasn’t the same as winning. By the time she reached the park, her temples throbbed. She sat on a bench beneath a wide oak, fingers curling into the fabric of her coat. She wanted to call Draven—wanted

Violetta held the medical reports like they were made of glass.Careful.Reverent.As if one careless fold might shatter the miracle written across the page.Positive.Six weeks.Healthy.The words blurred again when tears filled her eyes.Even now, sitting in the backseat of the cab, city buildings passing by in soft streaks of sunlight, she kept checking the file every few minutes—just to make sure it hadn’t magically disappeared.Like her happiness might be taken back if she blinked too long.Her fingers slid unconsciously to her stomach.Still flat.Still normal.Yet everything had changed.A small, shaky smile curved her lips.“Baby…” she whispered under her breath.The word felt foreign.Sacred.Her chest tightened.Draven.God… how was she going to tell him?Would she just blurt it out?Would she show him the report?Or tease him first?Her cheeks warmed imagining his reaction.That cold, controlled man is completely short-circuiting.His possessive instincts are going feral.H

The house stayed quiet long after they stopped talking.Not the heavy, suffocating silence from before.This one was softer.Warmer.Fragile.Like something sacred had settled between them.Violetta rested against Draven’s chest on the couch, her legs tucked under her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders possessively—almost unconsciously.His palm never left her stomach.Not even once.Like he was afraid if he moved, the truth would disappear.Pregnant.His child.Their child.The word echoed in his head again and again.A strange ache formed behind his ribs.He had built empires.Destroyed enemies.Made men kneel with a single look.But this?This terrified him more than any war.Because this was something he couldn’t control with violence.This was soft.Tiny.Breakable.And it belonged to her.Which meant it belonged to his entire soul.“You’re being very quiet,” Violetta murmured, tracing circles on his shirt.“I’m thinking.”“That’s dangerous,” she teased gently.He huffed a qui

The ballroom pulsed with warmth—golden lights, familiar faces, the soft hum of celebration—but Violetta felt none of it reach her. Applause rose for her grandmother, laughter followed, glasses clinked. Everyone looked happy. Everyone looked certain. She stood beside Draven with a practiced smile, his arm secure at her back, and wondered how something could feel so fragile while appearing so unbreakable.Family came in waves. Aunt and uncles were looking at her and Draven like they wanted to assess before greeting them. Violetta already knew about their greedy and opportunist nature, so it wasn't something new for her. Most of them were faking everything... inclusing her. “You look tired, dear,” one aunt said gently, eyes flicking to Draven.“Work must be keeping him busy,” another added, not unkindly.“You two don’t get much time together these days, do you?”Violetta answered softly, politely. Draven kept his jaw set, every muscle taut. He felt the scrutiny like heat against his ski