All Chapters of Married To My Billionaire Nemesis: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

EDEN Dylan shakes his head, his expression earnest. "I swear I'm not. I've been coming to this café every morning for months. It's the only place in the city that still makes espresso the way my dad used to. Pure coincidence." I study him. He doesn't look away. "Or maybe it's fate," he adds softly. "I like to think the universe still gives a damn about us sometimes." I swallow hard. Am I convinced? Not entirely. Still, why would he stalk me? He reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. The touch is light, careful, and warm. "I know that things are... complicated," he says. "I know you're married. I know you're hurting. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. No pressure. No expectations. Just... me." His thumb brushes the back of my hand and my throat tightens. For a moment I imagine what it would feel like to say yes. To lean into someone safe. To let someone hold me without expecting me to fight or forgive or fall apart. Then my phone vibra

EDEN Hayden’s statements have barely sunk in when his eyes suddenly roll back. I let out a horrified shriek, lunging for him. "Hayden!" I shake his shoulders. "Hayden, look at me!" His eyes snap open, wide and panicked. His free hand claws at his chest now. "Can't... breathe..." Oh God, no. I fumble for my phone again, ready to call the ambulance anyway—scandal be damned—when there's suddenly a loud knock at the door. I scramble to my feet, nearly tripping in my haste. "Come in!" The door swings open. A man in his late fifties rushes in, carrying a black medical bag. He's dressed casually in jeans and a button-down, no white coat or stethoscope in sight. His face is kind but serious, with salt-and-pepper hair and wire-rimmed glasses. "Mrs Wolfe?" he says, spotting me immediately. "Yes—please, he's—" The doctor drops to one knee beside Hayden, already opening his bag. "Let's see what's going on, son." Hayden's eyes are glazed, his breathing coming

EDEN The light from the morning sun wakes me up the next morning. Hayden is still asleep beside me. His face is relaxed for once, with no tension in his brow or jaw. One arm is flung across my waist, his fingers loosely resting on my hip despite my warning to him insisting that he sleeps on his side of the bed. His phone vibrates on the nightstand, but Hayden doesn't stir. It buzzes again. And again. So, I glance at the screen. It's Victoria. My stomach tightens. I should let it ring and let her leave a voicemail he can ignore later. But it keeps going—five rings, six—and driven by a sudden burst of annoyance, I reach over him carefully, sliding the phone from the charger. "Hello?" I say in a bored voice once I answer. Victoria responds with her voice laced with irritation. "Who is this?" I keep my tone even. "Your daughter-in-law. Hayden is unavailable right now." "Eden?" She sounds like she's been slapped. "Where is my stepson? He should be awake. Today is

TW: Mentions of trauma and SA.EDEN Biscuit finally gives up the chase, skidding to a halt when the newcomer steps inside fully. His ears perk up, his bow tie askew. The feather boa dangles from his mouth for one last second before he drops it and trots over, sniffing curiously at the boy's shoes. Victoria is still panting, her cheeks blotchy red, one heel wobbling as she tries to regain composure. Her voice comes out shrill enough to crack glass. "What the hell are you doing here?" The woman doesn't flinch. She simply smiles. Then she rests one hand on the boy's shoulder. "Why not?" Rachel says. "I deserve to be here. As the mother of Mr. Wolfe's son." Another son of that evil man. Yikes. Juliet's wheelchair whirs forward so fast the wheels squeak against marble. Her expression is thunderous. "Rachel," she grits out, "you have no right to be here." Oh...so this is the woman Astrid had been talking about. Figures, she looks like a villain. Rachel reaches in

EDEN I'm elbow-deep in a massive stockpot, stirring a batch of creamy soup that the chef asked me to finish while she stepped out to handle a delivery. The residents love this recipe, apparently. It's a little weird that Chef Carla is the only one on duty at the moment. I'm humming under my breath, smiling like an idiot every time I remember the supply closet kisses. I can almost feel the ghost of Hayden's lips on mine. I touch my bottom lip unconsciously. It's still a little swollen. My cheeks heat up. God, I hate that I miss it already. The extractor fan hums overhead. The soup bubbles gently. Everything feels... almost normal. Then I smell it. Smoke. It's not the kind from browning garlic or toasting spices. This smells like a burning chemical. It's all wrong. My spoon freezes mid-stir. I turn slowly. A thin grey ribbon of smoke is curling up from the corner near the walk-in pantry. At first I think it's steam from the pot, but then I see the orange flicker