All Chapters of Mrs. Hunt for 30 days: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

DanikaThe next morning after the conversation with Mitchelle, I had a meeting with Detective Charles.He was already at the corner table when I walked in, a coffee in front of him and a closed folder beside it. He stood briefly as I settled into the chair across from him."Ms. Williams.""Tell me you have something good," I replied, dropping my bag and pulling out my case file.He smiled slightly and opened his folder."Ivy Roth," he began, sliding a document toward me. "After she and Dorian separated she moved states quietly. New life, low profile, nothing remarkable. No major financial activity, no legal trouble, nothing worth noting.""Until recently," I stated."Until recently," he confirmed.He reached into the folder and produced a bank statement, turning it to face me and tapping one line with his finger.I leaned forward.The number sitting in that column made me go very still."That came in as a single transfer," Detective Charles stated. "No instalments, no trail of smaller

DanikaI felt him watching me before I opened my eyes.That particular quality of attention that has weight to it, warm and unhurried, the kind that doesn't need anything back immediately.I opened one eye.Luther was lying on his side facing me, his head was propped on his hand, completely awake."How long have you been doing that?" I asked, my voice was still thick with sleep."A while," he replied without apology.I pulled the covers up slightly and looked at the ceiling."That's slightly unsettling.""Is it?""Most people just stare at their phones in the morning.""I'm not most people," Luther stated simply.I turned my head to look at him properly and found that expression on his face. The quiet certain one that had no performance in it whatsoever."I'm going to marry you," he said.Just like that. No preamble, no building up to it. Just the statement sitting in the morning air between us like something that had already been decided and was simply being shared.I stared at him.

MitchelleI sat beside Dorian’s hospital bed, as my fingers threaded tightly through his, refusing to let go even for a second. The machines hummed steadily around us, a constant, mechanical heartbeat that had become the soundtrack to my days in Geneva. “The weather here this morning was perfect, Dee,” I whispered, tracing my thumb over his knuckles. “I walked to the little café around the corner from the house, the one with the blue shutters. Got that croissant you would pretend to hate but secretly love. They had it there.” My throat tightened, but I pushed through. I had to keep talking. Silence felt too much like giving up.“I’m trying so hard not to fall apart without you. But God, Dee, it’s been months. Months of pretending I’m strong enough for both of us.”The door stayed closed. The nurses had come and gone earlier, offering sympathetic smiles that never reached their eyes. I hated those smiles. My phone buzzed on the bedside table, jolting me. Danika. I snatched it up,

MitchelleEverything happened at once.The monitors screamed to life, their steady rhythm fractured into urgent irregular beeping. Dr. Castellano was through the door in seconds, his team flooded in behind him, moving with the sharp coordinated efficiency of people trained for exactly this moment.I stepped back automatically, pressing myself against the wall, my eyes never left Dorian's face."Vitals are shifting," one nurse called out."I see it," Dr. Castellano replied, already at the bedside, his hands moved across the equipment with practiced calm. "Give him room."I watched every second of it.His chest rose differently. His fingers no longer just moved but pressed deliberately into the sheets. And then slowly, impossibly, his eyelids were open.Confused at first and unfocused. Moving across the ceiling without landing anywhere specific. Then the confusion began to clear the way fog clears, gradually and then all at once.Dr. Castellano looked at me and nodded once.I was at th

ChloeJason was in the bathroom again.I sat at the breakfast table staring at my eggs and listening to the particular silence of a man who had stopped pretending he was simply using the bathroom. His phone had gone in with him. It always went in with him now.I pushed my plate away.Three days since the funeral and nothing felt the way Diana had promised it would feel. Victory was supposed to feel clean. Final. Like a door closing on everything that had tried to destroy us.Instead it felt like standing in a room where someone had opened all the windows and the cold was coming in from every direction and nobody could agree on which one to close first.My phone buzzed on the table. A text from Diana popped up“You need to be at my house now. It's urgent.”I read it twice, finished my coffee at my own pace, and drove over.****Diana didn't greet me at the door.She was already moving when I walked in, crossing the living room with the tight clipped energy of someone containing somethi