บททั้งหมดของ In the arms of two sins: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

David's POV"Promise me, David. Promise me you will protect her," Richard’s voice was barely a whisper, thick with a desperation that made the air in the small restaurant feel heavy.I looked at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was a secret that could level mountains. Richard had forced Mara’s friend to lie about a molar pregnancy; he had effectively tricked his own daughter into ending her child’s life just to sever her tie to the Lawson family. It was a huge, ugly secret. I knew that if Mara ever found out, she would be destroyed. She would hate Richard, and she would certainly hate me for keeping the truth from her.But as I looked into Richard’s watery eyes, I didn't see a villain. I saw a man as broken as I was. And I realized something darker about myself: if keeping this secret was the price of having Mara back, I would pay it without blinking."I promise, Richard," I said, my voice steady. "I’ll keep it from her. I’ll protect her from the truth and from them."Ric

Elias’s POVThe silence of the cemetery was always the loudest kind of quiet. It was a heavy, suffocating weight that settled in the lungs and refused to leave. I stood before Mark's grave, staring into the air.For days, a disturbing hole had been carved into my heart. I looked down at the single white flower in my hand before letting it fall. It landed softly on the dark soil, a stark contrast to the dirt that had claimed a man who had been more than just my secret source. He had been my eyes, my ears, and in many ways, my conscience.I felt like I was drowning in the air here. If I hadn't been so carried away—Mark would still be breathing. He must have had clues. He must have gotten some informations for me before his death. Few days ago, I had even realized that I missed his calls when I checked my phone. Silent calls I had ignored because I was too busy drowning in the drama of a fake engagement."I’m sorry, Mark," I whispered, the wind stealing the words before they could even s

Elia's POVRichard left the hallway as my glare burned into the back of his head. I turned my attention back to Mara, whose small frame seemed to vibrate with a tension she was trying desperately to hide. "We’ll talk about this later," I said, my voice softening despite the storm of questions in my mind. "When you actually decide to talk to me. I don’t want you stressing right now."I reached out and gently but firmly took the stack of files she was clutching against her chest. She looked startled, her fingers lingering on the manila folders as if they were a shield."It’s fine," she protested, her voice a thin thread. "I can actually handle them. I was just heading down to—""I know you can," I interrupted, cutting her off before she could say anything. "I know you're capable. But I don’t want you to. I just need you to wait for me. I won’t waste time, I promise."I didn’t give her a chance to argue. I turned and walked away, the files in my hand. I swung by her department on the wa

Elia's POVI stared at her, my voice hitching in a way I couldn't control."What are you doing?" I asked, though the answer was written in the desperate, beautiful fire in her eyes.She didn't answer with words. She stepped forward, and pulled me into a wet, frantic kiss. We swallowed the running water together, the heat of the shower clashing with the electric chill of her touch. Every inch of her naked body was pressed against mine. In that moment, I forgot about everything. I pulled her closer, my tongue slamming into hers, needing to taste her, to explore every dark, wet corner of her mouth as if I could find her soul there. I pinned her against the glass wall, the thud of her back hitting the surface muffled by the rush of the water.I was going to be careful with her—I always wanted to be—but the hunger was too sharp. I pinned her wrists above her head against the wall, planting rough, marking kisses along the column of her neck before returning to her lips. She moaned into my

Mara's povIt was freezing cold, the perfect weather for a garden wedding. I clutched the mug Margarette had prepared for me, the steam rising in spirals to warm my face. Today being the day of the wedding made me nervous. I took a slow sip of the tea, my mind calculating the possibility of the wedding happening or not. I wanted it to be over. I wanted the vows to be spoken, the champagne to be toasted, and the shadow that had been haunting me to finally retreat. I hoped, with a desperation that bordered on prayer, that everything would go perfectly. If Andrea were happy, perhaps she would stop looking for reasons to despise me.I finished my tea and headed upstairs. The ceremony was set for the early evening, and the house was already humming with the frantic energy of florists and stylists. As I turned the corner towards my room, I nearly collided with Andrea. Her hair was pinned up in elaborate rollers, a few black strands escaping to frame her face. She looked radiant, her make