Semua Bab Fucked Into Forever [Forbidden Collection]: Bab 91 - Bab 100

The lawyers scheduled the deposition for Wednesday at nine in a neutral conference room downtown—neutral meaning the building had a back entrance and armed security. Alex and Julian slipped out of the brownstone at six-thirty in the morning wearing baseball caps and hoodies like fugitives. The last two reporters still camped on the street barely got a photo before the car door slammed.In the elevator up to the twenty-third floor Julian’s hand found Alex’s and squeezed once. No words. They both knew what was coming.Sophia was already in the room when they walked in. She sat at the far end of the long table in a simple black dress, hair pulled back tight, no makeup. She looked smaller, older, like the last two weeks had carved the last soft edges off her. Her eyes flicked to Julian for half a second—flat, unreadable—then settled on Alex.The court reporter swore them in. The lawyers started with the easy questions. Dates. Assets. When the marriage effectively ended. Alex answered in

The church smelled like lilies and money. Five hundred guests packed the pews of St. Andrew’s Cathedral, all eyes on the aisle where Sophia Bennett was supposed to glide toward her fairy-tale ending. The Vera Wang gown weighed a thousand pounds. The veil itched. Every step she had taken down that aisle in rehearsal had felt like walking into a cage with golden bars.She couldn’t breathe.The organ swelled. The bridesmaids smiled like they meant it. Ethan Musk waited at the altar in his bespoke tux, blond hair perfect, smile wide and trusting—the same smile that had charmed her into saying yes six months ago. Behind him stood his older brother, Tristan, best man, arms loose at his sides, jaw tight. Tristan didn’t smile. He never did at family functions. Not really.Sophia reached the front of the aisle, looked into Ethan’s hopeful eyes, and felt her stomach drop like a stone.No.“I can’t,” she whispered.No one heard. The minister opened his mouth. She turned, gathered the heavy s

Sophia’s apartment was a shoebox above a noisy laundromat in the east end of the city. The walls were thin enough to hear every quarter dropping into the machines downstairs, every argument between the couple who lived next door. She’d moved back in the same day Tristan left her in that motel, still wearing the jeans and T-shirt she’d bought from the gas station across the street because the wedding gown was stuffed in a trash bag at the bottom of her closet like evidence she never wanted to see again. The first week blurred into survival mode. She called the café where she used to work before. Ethan swept her into his world and she almost forgot how to survive on her own. She had to beg for her old shifts back. Her boss, a no-nonsense woman named Carla who’d seen every kind of heartbreak, took one look at the dark circles under Sophia’s eyes and said, “You start tomorrow. No questions, no drama. Just show up.” Showing up was harder than it sounded. Every morning she walked th

Sophia hit the six-month mark on a rainy Thursday in late October. The café was dead after lunch, just the steady drip of water against the front windows and the low hum of the espresso grinder. She moved slower now, one hand always drifting to the hard curve of her belly like she needed the reminder that this was real. The baby kicked constantly, sharp little jabs under her ribs that made her pause mid-step and breathe through her teeth. Carla had switched her to register duty weeks ago—no more heavy trays, no lifting the milk crates. She appreciated it, but the pity in everyone’s eyes was starting to feel like another weight. Jamie came in on his day off anyway, soaked from the walk over, carrying a paper bag from the pharmacy. He dropped it on the counter without ceremony. “Prenatals. The good ones with the iron that doesn’t make you puke. And those stretchy pants you said you liked last week.” She rang up a to-go latte for the only customer and tried to smile. “You didn’t

Sophia didn’t run. She walked back into the ballroom like the floor wasn’t tilting under her heels, found the head waiter, and told him she was sick. The lie came out smooth; she’d had years of practice pretending everything was fine. Jamie was already in the kitchen with Theo, the boy’s face buried in his shoulder, half-asleep from the sugar crash of stolen chocolate cake. “We’re leaving,” she said, voice low so the chef wouldn’t hear. Jamie didn’t ask questions until they were in his truck, Theo buckled in the back, streetlights sliding across his peaceful face. Then he glanced sideways at her once, twice, and finally spoke. “Musk?” She nodded, staring straight ahead at the red light. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking even after she clamped them between her knees. “He saw Theo.” Jamie’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Did he say anything else?” “He said the boy belongs to his brother.” The words tasted metallic. “What? That bastard!" Jamie hissed. “What the fuck? Anything to