Married To My Billionaire Nemesis のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

HAYDEN The paper bag from the corner store crinkles against my thigh as I walk back to the car. Eden's favourite snacks are all in there. I even grabbed the strawberry Pop-Tarts she used to hoard in her locker senior year. I remember because I used to steal one every time she left her bag unattended. She never caught me. Or maybe she did and just let it slide. Then I remember the period basket tucked under my other arm. I ordered it online two days ago after seeing the little calendar reminder pop up on her phone screen when she left it on the kitchen island. Eight days. I still remember the exact day in senior year when she forgot to change her pad and leaked through her skirt during third period. She'd bolted to the bathroom so fast I thought she was sick. I snort under my breath as I fish my keys from my pocket. She'd kill me if she knew I still remember that. She'd probably kill me twice if she knew I ordered her a whole basket. A heating pad shaped like a heart

EDEN A sob hooks in my throat when I realize that I never said those words out loud. My eyes drop back to those thin, faded lines. They are all hidden in the one place no one would see unless they were this close. He hurt himself. Not once or twice. But over and over. Because the pain Rachel put inside him had nowhere else to go. My vision blurs. Hot tears well up so fast I can't blink them away. They flow silently down my cheeks. He's still hard in my mouth, still pulsing, still trusting me with the most vulnerable parts of himself. How many nights did he sit alone in the dark carving these reminders into his skin? How many times did he press the blade just deep enough to feel something he could control? How many scars did he hide under expensive suits and cold smiles while the rest of us thought he was untouchable? Still, I don't pull off him. I can't. He deserves this moment. He deserves to feel good, to feel wanted, to feel safe, even if it's breaki

EDEN I'm working in the kitchen when the evil little smile creeps back across my face. The place smells like vanilla and powdered sugar. I'm perfecting the Swiss meringue for the final test run of the lavender-honey layer cake. The one that's going to be the signature piece for my boutique if I ever get the funding. The frosting is glossy, stiff peaks holding their shape when I lift the whisk. I swirl a finger through it, taste it, and hum in satisfaction. Perfect. I glance over at the tiny glass jar sitting innocently on the far corner of the counter. Laxative powder. It's tasteless and odourless. So, I've heard. My grin widens. Earlier I gave Hayden a vague little response when he asked me about Dylan. Something about Dylan not actually knowing the culprit. But he just wanted to apologize. Nonetheless, I saw the trace of doubt in Hayden's eyes. I have a feeling he's still not convinced. And honestly? I don't care. All I look forward to is breaking him down unti

EDEN Hayden flinches the second the question leaves my lips. For a moment he just stares, as if the words physically struck him. Then he clenches his jaw. "I—" His voice cracks. He drags a hand down his face, his fingers trembling. "I really didn't know at first, Eden. I swear. The photos came through an anonymous burner account. I thought it was some random opportunist who'd been at the club that night." I let out a bitter laugh. Does he really think I'm stupid? "Bullshit," I hiss. His head jerks up. "Eden—" "You were supposed to make her pay, remember?" I cut in. "And now you're telling me you couldn't even confront the woman who took those photos?" He flinches as if I just slapped him. I move closer, and his muscles tense up. "Are you afraid of her, Hayden?" I ask softly. "Is that it? After everything she did to you...are you still scared of Rachel?" His eyes darken with pure shame. He turns away from me so quickly, the movement is almost violent. He drops

EDEN "I love him, and I hate that I love him. I hate that I want to protect him from Rachel, from Victoria, from himself. I hate that I want to crawl into his lap right now and tell him I'm sorry for doubting him even though I'm terrified he's going to break me again." Tears stream down my face in hot, relentless tracks. I press the tissues harder against my mouth, trying to muffle the ugly, hiccupping sounds. "I love him," I sob. "I love him. I love him." Each repetition feels like pulling a splinter deeper instead of out. Ava slides around the booth until she's next to me. She wraps both arms around my shoulders and pulls me into her side. I don't fight it. I just collapse against her, my face buried in her hoodie, crying so hard my whole body shakes. She doesn't shush me or tell me it's okay. She just holds me tighter and lets me fall apart. When the worst of the sobs finally slows to hiccups, she presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Love isn't supposed to hu