All Chapters of TIED IN HIS BED: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The night did not sleep, and neither did Carson.He sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, the skyline flickering beyond the window like a pulse that refused to die. Justina stirred behind him, her voice soft with sleep.“Carson?”He didn’t turn. “Go back to sleep.”“You said that two hours ago.”She rose quietly, pulling the sheet around her shoulders, and came to stand beside him. His face was a silhouette against the glass, all sharp edges and exhaustion.“You’re thinking about him again,” she whispered.He nodded once. “I keep replaying that night. The smoke, the screams. I see him every time I close my eyes and see Reese standing by the staircase, reaching out. And then nothing.”Justina laid a hand on his shoulder. “You told me you searched for him.”“I did. For months. Until the authorities said there was nothing left to find.” He looked up at her finally, eyes haunted. “But if he’s alive, if someone helped him disappear…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “

The morning after the storm didn’t bring peace.It brought silence,heavy, watchful, the kind that hummed beneath the skin like an unspoken warning.Carson stood at the window of his penthouse, the skyline of the city rising before him like glass spires, each one reflecting the pale, uncertain dawn. He hadn’t slept. The fire had burned all night in his head not the one that destroyed his family’s estate years ago, but the one Justina had lit with her truth.He’d kissed her like a man drowning.And afterward, he hadn’t known how to breathe.Behind him, soft footsteps moved across the marble floor. He didn’t have to turn. He could feel her. The air shifted when she entered a room, fragile and fierce at once, a contradiction he’d never stop wanting to solve.“Carson,” Justina said softly, her voice hoarse from the night’s storm.He turned then. She was standing barefoot in his white shirt, hair still damp, eyes uncertain but steady. The bruise of sleeplessness shadowed her face, but there

The world seemed to tilt after Darius’s return.For a day and a night, the Wills Tower stayed sealed from the outside world, no meetings, no calls, no news. The empire that Carson had built stood still while the truth reshaped its foundations.Carson hadn’t left his private floor since the confrontation. Darius occupied the guest wing, pacing like a caged shadow. Justina moved quietly between them, her presence the only thread keeping the silence from collapsing into violence.It was a silence that spoke of things too heavy for words.Carson stood by the glass wall again, watching the clouds crawl over the skyline. The city gleamed, indifferent, alive so unlike the stillness inside him.He didn’t turn when Justina entered. Her reflection appeared beside his, small and soft against the world outside.“You haven’t eaten,” she said gently.He almost smiled. “You sound like you think food can fix this.”“No,” she said, stepping closer. “But silence never does.”He turned then, his eyes ti

The storm that had rolled across the city overnight left the air charged, damp, and sharp with ozone. Carson hadn’t slept. From his office window, he watched the morning light climb the skyline, cutting through glass towers that looked too clean for the dirt they hid.Justina entered quietly, a file pressed against her chest. “Darius found something,” she said. “An address. It’s one of Sloane’s private warehouses off the coast, near the shipyards.”Carson turned. The dark circles beneath his eyes didn’t dull the focus burning there. “He’s sure?”“He cross-checked the deed. It’s under a shell company Vale once owned.”That was enough. Carson grabbed his jacket. “Then we go.”The drive was silent except for the rain on the windshield. Justina sat in the passenger seat, tracing the edge of the map on her lap. Every so often she glanced at Carson, his jaw tight and his hands gripping the wheel too hard.“Carson,” she said finally, “if that ledger really lists everything your father did… w

Morning in the city felt different after a night like that too bright, too honest. The rain-slick streets below Carson’s tower caught the sunlight in fractured mirrors, each reflection another version of the truth they had unearthed.Inside the penthouse, the quiet hummed like a wound trying to heal. A fire burned low in the hearth; it wasn’t for warmth so much as memory. The smell of smoke no longer frightened Justina, but it still made her heart beat faster.The ledger sat between them on the coffee table, its pages marked with ribbons and the occasional bloodstain. The will that proved her inheritance rested beside it, a promise and a threat bound together.Carson poured two cups of coffee, handed one to her, and stood looking out over the city. His reflection in the window looked carved from grief.“What do we do now?” she asked.He didn’t turn around. “That book could topple half the men who built this city. Every name in it is a match waiting to be struck.”“So we burn it,” she