บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire’s Broken Angel… and His Darkest Desire: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The letter in Maya's hand was dated three days before her grandmother died.She'd found it tucked inside the leather journal she'd discovered in Eleanor's bedroom—the journal she'd been too afraid to open until now, three months into her stay at the Tidewater Inn. The handwriting was shaky, weakened by illness, but the words cut through her like broken glass: "Maya, if you're reading this, then you finally came home. And I'm sorry, sweetheart, because home isn't what you think it is. I should have told you the truth about your mother. About why she really left Moonlight Cove. About what your father did."Maya's hands trembled so violently that the paper fluttered like a wounded bird. Outside, the October wind howled against the inn's windows, but she barely heard it over the roar of blood in her ears. Twenty-eight years of her life, and everything she'd believed about her family had been built on lies.Her mother hadn't left because she was restless. Her father hadn't been the devoted

Marcus stood in the parking lot of the Tidewater Inn at three in the morning, watching Maya's bedroom window like a predator studying its prey. The light was off. She was sleeping, probably tangled in those expensive sheets she'd bought for the guest rooms, probably dreaming about him—that small-town handyman who thought he could take what belonged to Marcus.The rage that had simmered for weeks now boiled just beneath his skin, hot and insistent. He'd been patient. He'd been careful. He'd tracked her here like the detective had promised, waited for the right moment, studied her new routines. But patience was a finite resource, and Marcus had run out three days ago when he'd seen them together—Maya and that bastard Caleb—laughing on the inn's front porch like she'd never belonged to anyone else.Like she'd never belonged to him.His hands clenched around the steering wheel of the rental car, knuckles white in the darkness. The detective's report sat on the passenger seat, pages of inf

The guest room in Caleb's house smelled like cedar and something undeniably him—a mix of sawdust, salt air, and that particular masculine scent that made Maya's traitorous body hum with awareness every time she breathed too deeply. She stood in the doorway with her duffel bag clutched against her chest like a shield, acutely aware that accepting his offer meant crossing a line she couldn't cross."It's temporary," Caleb said from behind her, his voice rough in a way that suggested he was reminding himself as much as her. "Just until we figure out who's been watching the inn. Until we know you're safe."Safe. The word had lost all meaning three days ago when she'd found the photographs slipped under her door at the Tidewater—pictures of her sleeping, showering, living her life while someone watched from the shadows. The police had filed a report and increased patrols, but Maya had seen the look in Officer Chen's eyes. In a town like Moonlight Cove, everyone knew everyone. Whoever was s

Cole had always been good at keeping his distance. It was a survival skill he'd perfected over years of loss—first his father to the sea, then his mother to grief, and finally his own marriage to a woman who'd wanted the idea of him but not the reality. Distance keeps you safe. Distance keeps you whole.But Maya Reeves was making distance impossible.He stood in the doorway of the Tidewater Inn's kitchen, ostensibly there to fix the temperamental dishwasher that had been giving her trouble all week. But the dishwasher was working fine now, and he was still there, watching her knead bread dough with a focused intensity that made something tighten in his chest. She worked like someone who'd learned that idle hands invited trouble—purposeful, efficient, always moving."You're staring again," Maya said without looking up, but he caught the corner of her mouth tilting upward."Trying to figure out if you're going to punch that dough or make it into bread."She did look up then, flour dusti

Maya had promised herself she wouldn't do this again—wouldn't let Caleb Hayes close enough to blur the lines she'd so carefully drawn. But here she was at midnight, standing in the doorway of the inn's basement workshop while he rewired the ancient electrical panel, his shirt discarded somewhere in the August heat, his shoulders glistening with sweat in the dim light of a single work lamp.She should turn around. Go back upstairs. Pretend she hadn't come down here looking for him.Instead, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.The click of the latch made him turn, wire strippers in one hand, a length of copper in the other. His eyes found hers in the darkness, and something electric—far more dangerous than anything in that panel—sparked between them."Couldn't sleep?" His voice was rough, careful. They'd been dancing around each other for weeks now, ever since the night on the beach when he'd kissed her and she'd pulled away, terrified of wanting something she wasn't sure