บททั้งหมดของ My Sister's Fiance: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

I set the phone on the desk, the screen still glowing, and stared at the black box.The photograph. The card. The pink glitter hair clip.Three small things that, under normal circumstances, would have looked like trash from Issa’s preschool bag.Now they looked like evidence from a murder.Funny, the way the brain worked. One part of me wanted to pick up the clip, hold it, smell the tiny pink plastic, make sure it really belonged to Issa. The stupid mother part. The part that immediately went looking for strawberry shampoo or the trace of small fingers.The other part, older, colder, and far too used to dealing with contracts that could eat people’s lives, said immediately: don’t touch it.So I didn’t touch it again.I picked up my phone and photographed everything. One photo of the box. One of the card. One close-up of the typed words. One of the clip. One of the envelope. One of the unknown number on my phone screen. Then a short video, because whoever threatened my child was not g

Rain swallowed the sound of the road.Inside his car, everything felt far too expensive for a day this chaotic. The leather seat was warm beneath my thighs, the heater breathed softly from the dashboard, and the windshield wipers moved in a lazy rhythm, sweeping water off the glass like life came with a tiny reset button you could simply press.I stayed sitting upright with my tote in my lap, the hard case gripped on top of it like a second baby, only far less adorable. The toes of my nice shoes were wet. My hair had started drying with half-hearted commitment, a few strands sticking to my cheek.A full minute passed with nothing but the sound of rain, wipers, and the breathing I forced to stay normal. The car pulled out of the office area, passed through the side gate, then slipped onto the wet main road, almost empty at this hour. Oregon looked like someone had turned off all the color in the world and left only the red glow of taillights as decoration.Zach’s hand shifted from the

I moved before my brain had time to call an emergency meeting.Bag. The folding umbrella by the door. I grabbed everything with one hand, less gracefully than usual because my fingers were shaking a little, damn it.“Leave,” I said without looking at him. I pressed the unlock button. The small click sounded like a toy gun in a room that had gone too quiet.“Bella.”“Leave.” I opened the umbrella inside the car. “Leave. Now.”“We’re not done.”I turned to him and it’s a mistake.He was still too close. His mouth was a little red, his black hair fallen messily over his forehead from my hands, and the memory of it made me want to crawl out of my skin and start a new life in Canada. “We were done,” I said quietly. “Whatever that was just now was a nervous system malfunction.”Then I opened the door.The rain welcomed me like someone had dumped a bucket from the sky. My umbrella bloomed over my head with a short snap, but the wind came from the side, so water still hit my cheek, my neck, t

Neither of them stopped.Two grown men. One Italian with an ancient inherited ownership complex, one German with steady morals, were shoving each other around in the rain like civilization had not yet invented therapy. And to think those two countries had once joined forces to cause mess.I rolled my eyes.Fine, then.If they wanted to die soaked in my side yard, at least they had the courtesy to choose a spot no one could see from the living room.“You two,” I said, my voice flat, “look very masculine and very useless.”Karl punched Zach in the jaw.Zach shot right back up and kicked Karl in the chest.“HEY. BOTH OF YOU.” They stopped and looked at me, which was generous of them, considering their shared custody of one brain cell. I pointed at them with my umbrella. “Don’t destroy my plants. Don’t bleed on my natural stone. It’s imported. If I have to explain testosterone stains to the gardener, I will personally make sure neither of you is ever allowed past my gate again.”Then I w

I came downstairs twenty minutes later with my wet hair combed back, a black silk robe clinging to my body, and a clean, makeup-free face that still looked expensive because sometimes God remembered he owed me compensation.Damn it. I was too confident.And, well... the house no longer sounded like a boxing ring.Suspicious.From downstairs, all I could hear was the cartoon playing in the family room, a spoon dropping, then Max laughing like a tiny villain.I stopped on the last step.In the kitchen, the island lights were still on. Theo’s snack bowl was exactly where it had been, half the pretzels and chocolate chips gone. The paper towel I’d used on my neck was still lying near the sink, damp and pathetic. The side door was closed, but the floor by the mat was wet, with large shoeprints leading into the little hallway and then back again.I walked to the side door and peeked through the small pane of glass beside it.The side yard was empty.Rain was still falling, lighter now, like