All Chapters of IN LOVE WITH HIS ENEMY: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Scott's POVThe walk to the witness stand was the longest of my life.Twenty feet. Maybe less. It felt like miles. Every eye in the courtroom followed me—the jury, the gallery, the reporters in the back. And Eliza. Always Eliza. Sitting in the second row with Adam Thorne beside her, watching me with those eyes I'd once loved, now empty of everything I'd spent years trying to earn.I gripped the railing. Swore the oath. Sat down.The leather was cold beneath my hands.Donovan approached slowly, like he was approaching a spooked animal. We'd rehearsed this. Every question. Every answer. He'd told me to be honest, to be human, to let them see the man behind the headlines.I didn't know if that man still existed."Scott," Donovan began gently. "Let's start at the beginning. How did you meet Eliza Sterling?"I took a breath. And began.---Direct ExaminationI told them about the accident.

Eliza's POVThe trial ended on a Thursday.I remember that because Friday morning, for the first time in eighteen months, I woke up with nothing to fight.The silence was the first thing I noticed. Not the city silence—Los Angeles never truly sleeps—but the silence inside my own head. For eighteen months, every waking moment had been filled with strategy, fear, anger, calculation. The next move. The next threat. The next battle.Now there was nothing.No legal battles. No corporate wars. No evidence to gather, no testimony to prepare, no enemies to track. Scott was in custody awaiting sentencing—the jury had taken less than four hours to convict on all counts. Chloe had testified, delivered everything she'd promised, and vanished into whatever witness protection program the DA had arranged. I hadn't asked where. Didn't want to know.The company was stable. More than stable—thriving. The board had made my position permanent withou

Adam's POVI'd spent my whole life watching from a distance.That was my gift—seeing clearly without being seen. I'd built a career on it, a fortune, a reputation as the man who always knew what was coming. I watched markets shift, competitors stumble, opportunities rise and fall. I watched and I waited and I moved when the time was right.Watching kept me safe.My father taught me that, though not in the way he intended. He was a watcher too, but his watching was different—suspicious, calculating, always looking for threats. He watched my mother until she couldn't breathe, until every move she made was under scrutiny. He watched me for signs of weakness, for any crack in the armor he demanded I wear.I learned to watch back. To see him coming. To anticipate the moods, the rages, the moments when silence was safer than speech. I learned that the person who sees most clearly wins.I never learned how to be seen.Until her

Eliza's POV — Six Months LaterThe office felt different now.Same building. Same desk. Same view of the city my father helped build. But everything else had changed.I ran my hand over the polished wood—his desk, the one I'd had moved from the Pasadena house. It sat in the corner of my office now, not as a shrine but as a presence. A reminder of where I came from and what I was building toward.Morning light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting everything in gold. Six months since the trial. Six months since Scott's sentencing. Six months of building something new on ground that had finally stopped shaking.The company was thriving. Stronger than it had been in years. I'd made changes—some my father would have approved of, others that would have surprised him. We'd expanded into new markets, diversified our holdings, positioned ourselves for a future my father could never have imagined. That was okay. Legacy wasn't abo

Eliza's POVThe hospice was called "Serenity Hills."A cruel joke, really. There was nothing serene about watching people die. The building sat on a hill overlooking the ocean—tasteful, expensive, the kind of place where wealthy people came to make their exits with dignity. I'd driven two hours to get here, through rain that matched my mood, and now I stood in the parking lot staring at the entrance like it was a gateway to hell.Maybe it was.Marcus Webb was inside. The man who'd been at my parents' wedding. Who'd bounced me on his knee when I was a baby. Who'd taught me to fish when I was seven, laughing at my squeamishness about bait. Who'd disappeared after my father died like a ghost retreating from the light.My father's oldest friend. His betrayer.I got out of the car. Walked toward the entrance. Each step felt like moving through cement.---The nurse at the front desk was young, kind-eyed, used to deal