All Chapters of Belonging to You: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

Abigail’s POVI’ve never liked the sterile scent and stale air of hospitals. But after years as a nurse, I’d grown used to it. The smell had stopped feeling unbearable—mostly.The locker room smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale coffee. With trembling hands, I folded my scrubs, a motion I’d repeated countless times. But this time felt different. Like I was packing away pieces of myself.Who was I kidding? Maybe I was. Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. I wouldn’t cry here. I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me become a sobbing mess.“You did what you were told,” everyone kept saying.As if that helped.It didn’t bring comfort. Not when Daniel’s face flashed in my mind—his wide, frightened eyes, his small hand clutching mine, and that moment the light went out of them.The hospital called it “an unfortunate complication.” His family called it “negligence.” But to me, it was my worst mistake.I could’ve fought back. I could’ve told them Dr. Keating was the one wh

Abigail’s POV I didn’t remember how we made it through the crowd of swaying bodies or how we stumbled into the car. Everything was a blur—laughter, the thump of bass, the weight of his hand at the small of my back.All I remembered was the room—his hotel room perhaps. Dim lights. His breath. The sound of my heartbeat pulsing in my ears.Our lips met before the door even closed. It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, like we had just found water in the middle of a desert. The kiss was electric and the only time we broke apart was to tug our clothes away from our bodies.Every brush of his mouth, every drag of his fingers against my skin made the rest of the world dissolve.He tasted like whiskey and recklessness. Like a promise I shouldn’t believe but wanted to anyway.The next thing I knew, I was tossed onto the bed with enough force to make the mattress groan. He hovered above, his gaze dark and intent—as if he was memorizing the shape of me, the way I breathed, the sound I made when he

Christian’s POVThe Castillo estate looked exactly as I remembered it. Too big, too bright and too full of ghosts.Eden. That was what my grandfather liked to call it, as if giving it a biblical name made it less suffocating. The stone walls still gleamed like money. The manicured lawns stretched endlessly under the morning sun. And the gates—those damn gates—swung open as if they’d been waiting for me to finally stop running.I almost didn’t come back.If it hadn’t been for the phone call—Martha’s voice trembling as she told me Abuelo had been unwell—I would still be in Camden, pretending London was a lifetime ago and not just a plane ride away.But here I was.It had been years, and yet standing here again felt like no time had passed at all. Same house. Same air. Same ghosts.The tires crunched against the gravel as I pulled up to the front steps. I sat for a long moment, hands locked around the steering wheel, staring at the house that had been both home and hell.London had tau