Uncle's Good Girl のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

 BRONWYN The train to Boston felt endless, every mile taking me further from Trenton and closer to a life that suddenly felt empty. I stared out the window at the darkness rushing past, replaying Eudora's face over and over. *I never want to see you again.* My phone buzzed. Trenton. *Please tell me you made it to the train safely.* I stared at the message, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to ignore it, to make a clean break like I'd said I would. The other part, the bigger part, needed to answer him. *On the train now. Getting into Boston around midnight.* Three dots appeared immediately. *I miss you already.* My chest tightened. I shouldn't respond. I should put the phone away and start the process of moving on. *I miss you too.*&n

 BRONWYN The media explosion happened faster than I imagined possible. By noon the photos were everywhere. Not just the Pinehaven Gazette but regional news sites, gossip blogs, even a few national outlets picked up the story because a wealthy CEO having an affair with his daughter's best friend was apparently irresistible clickbait. *Real Estate Mogul Trenton Rhiggs in Scandalous Relationship with Daughter's Friend* *Age Gap Romance or Predatory Behavior? CEO Under Fire* *Betrayal in Pinehaven: Best Friends Torn Apart by Forbidden Affair* My phone wouldn't stop ringing even after I turned it off and back on. Reporters, old friends wanting gossip, people I hadn't talked to in years suddenly very interested in my life. I made it back to Boston by early afternoon, thinking I could hide in my apartment and wait for the storm to p

 I didn't have an answer that wouldn't prove his point. "I'm trying to save you," Huxley said when I didn't respond. "From yourself, from this situation, from the train wreck you're heading toward. But I can't do that if you won't let me help." "I don't want your help." My voice was cold now. "I don't want your advice or your fake concern or your manipulation disguised as strategy." "Bronwyn—" "What I want is for you to accept that we're over and move on with your life." I walked to my window, looking out at the photographers still camped outside. "You say you care about me but everything you've said in this conversation has been about control and image and using this situation to your advantage." "That's not true." "It is true." I turned away from the window. "You don't love me, Huxley. You love the idea of winning me back, of being the guy who

TRENTONI hung up before she could argue and drove straight to Boston, ignoring calls from Brilliana and Jericho and half the board. They could wait. Bronwyn couldn't. But first I had one stop to make. Bronwyn's parents lived in a modest house on the outskirts of Pinehaven. I'd driven past it a hundred times over the years, never imagining I'd be standing on their porch asking permission to date their daughter. Allegra Larkin answered the door, her expression cooling when she saw me. "Mr. Rhiggs." "Mrs. Larkin. I was hoping to speak with you and your husband." "I'm not sure that's a good idea." "Please." I kept my voice respectful. "Five minutes." She studied me for a long moment before stepping aside. "James is in the living room." James Larkin stood when I entered, his handshake firm but

BRONWYN "Ms. Larkin? This is David from Boston Business Journal. I'm doing a feature on women in marketing and I'd love to include you." "I'm not interested in press right now." "This isn't about your personal life, I promise. It's about your professional accomplishments, the Morrison campaign specifically." He paused. "Though if you wanted to address the recent publicity, it would give you a chance to control your own narrative." I looked at Trenton who was watching me carefully. "Let me think about it," I said. "Of course. My number is—" "I have it. I'll call you back." I hung up and stared at Trenton. "A reporter wants to interview me about work. He says it's not about us but offered me a chance to address the publicity." "Do you want to?" "I don't know." I sat on the