บททั้งหมดของ The S-Tier's Omega Bodyguard : บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Kieran had done his research.That was the honest answer to why he wasn't nervous when she arrived. He'd spent two evenings going through everything publicly available on Victoria Sinclair her philanthropic work, the family governance history, three interviews she'd given in the last decade where you could actually get a sense of how she thought. He'd approached it the way he approached any high-stakes briefing: know the room before you walk into it.She arrived at two on a Tuesday. She knocked, which he hadn't expected he'd assumed someone like Victoria Sinclair rang bells or had assistants knock for her. She knocked herself, two clean taps, and when he opened the door she looked at him and said: "You look better than I expected from Elliot's description.""What did he describe?" Kieran said, stepping back to let her in."Someone who was managing too much alone." She came in and looked around the apartment briefly, the way someone catalogued a room without making it obvious they were

He woke up and something was different.It took him a second to place it lying in the morning light, eyes still heavy, brain working its way up from sleep. Then he realised. The background noise was gone. That constant low-level ache he'd been carrying for eight months, the thing he'd gotten so used to that he'd stopped noticing it the way you stopped noticing traffic outside a window gone. Completely. In its place was a kind of quiet he'd genuinely forgotten existed.He lay there for a minute just feeling the absence of it.Then he smelled coffee. Bad coffee. The kind someone made when they didn't fully know what they were doing.He got up.✦ ✦ ✦Elliot was in the kitchen.He'd found the eggs and was doing something to them that was technically scrambling but looked more like an aggressive negotiation. He was in yesterday's shirt, slightly creased, hair not quite right, and he had the focused expression he got during complicated meetings, which was a little alarming to see applied

The first Tuesday it arrived, he thought it was Maya.He was at his desk at 12:30, halfway through a vendor access audit that needed to be done by Friday, when there was a knock at the door. A delivery guy with a bag from a restaurant he recognised from the area around the Sinclair building. No note. Just the food, packed neatly, everything warm.He texted Maya: Did you send me lunch?She replied: No. Why, someone sent you lunch?He looked at the bag. He looked at the contents. Someone had ordered from a place twenty minutes away and paid for delivery and there was no note and the entire order was things he could actually eat. Not a random selection. Specifically, carefully, exactly the foods that had been sitting okay with him for the last three weeks and none of the ones that hadn't.He ate it. It was good. He told himself it was a mistake and went back to work.The second Tuesday it happened again. Different restaurant. Same careful selection.He sat with that one for longer.✦ ✦

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: To Every Reader Who Has Been on This JourneyFirstly thank you. Genuinely. If you have read this far, you have spent a lot of hours with Kieran and Elliot and Maya and Dr. Chen and all the complicated, messy, real people who live in this story. That means everything to me.I want to be honest with you about something.Some of you noticed it. I saw your comments and your messages, and you were right to notice it. The pregnancy timeline moved too fast. You went from Kieran finding out about the twins at week ten to suddenly being in the third trimester, and the weeks in between the quiet ones, the hard ones, the ones where someone falls slowly in love without letting themselves know it those weeks were missing.They were always part of the story in my head. The Tuesday lunches that Kieran never asked for. The shirt that didn't fit on a Monday morning and the eight minutes on a bathroom floor. The way Elliot watered that plant himself and wouldn't let Ryan touch

Week 22 — Kieran POVIt was eleven-forty and he'd been staring at the same paragraph for fifteen minutes.He knew this because he'd checked the time when he started reading it and checked again just now and the only difference was that the tea beside his laptop had gone completely cold. The paragraph was about contractor liability thresholds in the phase three agreement and it had made sense the first time he read it at nine o'clock and apparently stopped making sense somewhere around the tenth reading.He was twenty-two weeks pregnant with twins and it was almost midnight and his brain had stopped cooperating.He got up.He went to the kitchen. He stood in front of the open fridge for a while. Nothing looked right. He wanted something but he couldn't name it, the kind of craving that was more like an itch than an actual appetite. He stood there long enough that the fridge started making the little alarm sound it made when you left the door open too long.He closed the fridge. He looke