บททั้งหมดของ He was never mine: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Avery’s POVIt's been three weeks since the man, Wyatt visited me.I remembered the moment, the way his face had changed when I told him I knew he was keeping something from me. He’d left that evening without saying anything and never came back.The nurses said he called telling them he had something urgent to attend to. Richard said he was on a business trip. Everyone had an answer but none of them felt true to me.I was walking now, strong enough to walk the corridors without help. I could sit up for hours without exhaustion dragging me down. I was strong enough to stand in the shower without feeling dizzy.The bruising was gone completely but the scars remained. Thin lines along my ribs, a mark near my hairline and the one on my abdomen I’d only found somedays ago, a horizontal scar below my belly button, healed but still prominent.The scar looked surgical but no one mentioned surgery to me.Richard came that afternoon like he’d been coming three times a week since Wyatt disappear

Wyatt’s POVThe flowers were still on the floor.I stepped over them and walked back into the corridor. Just then a young nurse with a blond ponytail passed by.I grabbed her arm. “Where is she?”She blinked, startled. “Who?”“Avery Monroe. Room 304.”“She’s in her room, isn’t she?” She asked, frowning slightly, like I was asking something ridiculous.“Her room is empty.”The smile faltered immediately. “That’s not possible. I checked on her this morning at ten.”“Then go look.”She hurried past me into the room and I followed, watching her shoulders stiffened as she took in the sight of the perfectly made bed.She turned back to me, confusion written all over her face. “I… I don’t understand.” She murmured.An older nurse with her glasses slidding down her nose approached us from the station. “What’s wrong?”“Miss Monroe isn’t in her room,” the younger one said, confusion laced her voice.“Did she go for imaging?” the older nurse asked immediately.“No, imaging was yesterday afterno

Wyatt’s POVI had waited patiently since I had placed that call that day, but no feedback. It’s been seven days of checking my phone every ten minutes. Of course Marcus told me to eat something, sleep, to get busy, to stop staring at the same blank wall like it would answer me back. Then my phone rang on a Wednesday morning at six-forty.“I have an update,” a man named Mike said.I sat up in the chair I’d fallen asleep in. “Where is she?”“That’s the problem.” He paused. “I don’t know.”My chest tightened. “What do you mean you don’t know?”“The black SUV was a rental.” He explained. “Paid in cash at a small agency outside the facility. No camera footage, no credit card trail.” “The driver returned it two hours later at a different location,” he continued. “Also paid cash.”“Plates?”“Legitimate.” He replied. “No flags.”I rubbed my hand over my face. “Where did they go?”“I pulled traffic on every major highway leading out to the areas in both directions, nothing useful.”“What ab

Avery’s POVThe bank was quiet when I entered.I approached the desk with Avery Monroe’s documents in my bag.The banker smiled at me. “How can I help you today?”“I need to open an account.”She pulled out forms. “Personal or business?”“Personal, for now.”She slid the form towards me. I filled them out. Name, address, identification, employment history and income source. All Avery Monroe.The woman asked standard questions and I answered them calmly. I only gave her what was required, nothing more. “I prefer to know exactly what I’m agreeing to,” I said when she tried to rush me through the final pages.She nodded and waited while I read every clause.She signed the document, opened the account and I paid taxes.Avery Monroe still existed legally on paper. But the world would never see me by that name, Arielle Montreaux was the name they would see. Avery is the foundation, Arielle would be the structure.The account opened within an hour and I left with a temporary debit card p

Wyatt’s POV She sat across from me, calm and the veil obscured her features but not her presence. “Thank you for meeting with us, Ms. Montreaux.” I said. She nodded once. “Of course.” I oulined the proposal. Kane Ventures would provide capital for expansion into retail partnerships. In return, we’d introduce color to reach a broader audience, scale production through manufacturing partners, and launch more accessible lines. The other investors nodded along. Victoria smiled and nodded as I spoke, and James leaned forward, already calculating. It was a clean and profitable offer. She listened without interrupting. When I finished, she didn’t respond immediately. She was quiet for a moment. Then she spoke. “Monochrome does not dilute itself.” The room went silent. Victoria blinked. “Expansion doesn’t mean dilution.” “In this context, it does,” she replied. “When identity becomes negotiable.” My jaw tightened. “Growth requires flexibility,” I said. “Identity requires di