Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 91 - Chapitre 100

[Sarah’s POV] The air in the motel parking lot was thick with the smell of stagnant water and rotting wood. Peeling paint, flickering neon that buzzed like a dying insect, and a gravel lot filled with rusted sedans that looked like they hadn't moved since the nineties. "Stay here," I said, my hand on the car door. I looked at Dex. "Keep the engine running. If you see a squad car or anything suspicious, you signal us." Dex gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. "Ma'am, this is a setup. Look at this place, it doesn't look like a place Lucy Rider would come to." "That’s exactly why she’s here," Norman muttered from the back seat, wiping sweat from his upper lip. "It’s a place where people go to disappear, not to be found. Dex, do what she says. Just... watch the perimeter." I stepped out, the heels of my boots crunching into the gravel. I didn't care about the heat. Big Elijah moved up beside me, a wall of muscle that made building look even smaller. Norman trailed behind u

[Sarah’s POV]The heavy oak door of the office clicked shut, a sound that felt like the cocking of a hammer. Outside, the estate was a labyrinth of shadows and the hum of the valley insects, but inside this room, the air was stagnant, smelling of old leather and the expensive scotch Norman used to pour for me with such practiced, gentle hands.I stood by the window, my silhouette trembling against the glass. I didn't look at him. I couldn't. Not yet. I kept my eyes on the dark expanse of the vineyards, the very land he had helped me manage while he was systematically dismantling my life."Are you going to start explaining yourself?" I asked, my voice coming out as a jagged, low blade. "Or are you just going to sit here and engage me in a staring competition? Because I have to tell you, Norman, your silence isn't as poetic as you think it is. It’s deafening."I turned around. Norman was sitting in the armchair across from my desk—the seat he always occupied during our late-night strate

[Tyler’s POV] Nothing compared to the stench of the lies currently filling this office. My lungs burned with every shallow breath I took, and the cane in my hand felt less like a tool and more like a tether to a life I was rapidly losing."The target for what?" I rasped, my voice sounding like it had been dragged through a furnace.The silence that followed was absolute. Sarah gasped, spinning around, her face a mask of shock and a flicker of something that looked like relief, though it was quickly drowned by terror. Norman, on the other hand, looked like he had just seen his own executioner.Hot and jagged furry, bypassed my pain. I forgot the fractured ribs, the scorched tissue in my chest, and the doctor’s warnings. I lunged forward, my hand reaching to grip the collar of Norman’s shirt, wanting to shake the truth out of him until his teeth rattled. But my legs were made of glass. The moment I shifted my weight, my balance vanished."Tyler!" Sarah screamed, rushing forward. She ca

[Tyler’s POV] I was technically supposed to be in on bed rest, but Instead, I was at a private airfield in New Jersey, wrapped in a suit that hid the bandages, clutching a cane that hid my tremors, and waiting for a man who had more blood on his hands than he did gold in his vaults. Sarah had laid the trap with the precision of a master architect. She knew Byron couldn’t resist the prospect of a final merger—the total absorption of the Hale legacy. It was the one thing that could pull him out of the safety of his European shadows and back into the line of fire. The sound of a jet engine tore through the morning air. I watched through the window as the white-and-gold Gulfstream touched down on the tarmac. It taxied toward the hangar, its engines whining down into a low, predatory hum. The stairs unfolded. A moment later, my father stepped out. Byron Rider hadn't changed. Even from a distance, he projected an aura of untouchable authority. He wore a charcoal overcoat that cost more

[Sarah’s POV] Before I could even draw a breath to speak, a voice rough crackled through. Vibrating with a nonchalance that seemed to pulse through my skin and into my bone marrow. I expected a demand as usual, I didn't expect the bored, weary sigh of a woman who sounded like she was complaining about the weather. "Your boy is driving me nuts, Sarah. Seriously. I’m going crazy here." The nonchalance in Lucy’s voice was a physical blow. It was so casual, so domestic, that for a split second, my brain tried to convince me we were back in our college dorm, complaining about a noisy neighbor. But then, the background noise sharpened. A cry. High-pitched, ragged, and thin. It was a sound I knew in my soul. "Caleb," I whispered, the name breaking on my lips. My knees buckled, and I felt Tyler’s hand steadying me, his grip strong on my arm. He was breathing hard, his own face a mask of restrained violence. "He wouldn't eat," Lucy continued, her voice accompanied by a faint, rhythm