Divorced With His Heir In My Belly のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

[Sarah’s POV]The production house was a hive of activity, I stood by the large oak tasting table, a manifest in my hand, forcing my eyes to stay fixed on the columns of numbers. I could feel Norman before I saw him. The air seemed to shift, growing heavier, more stifling. I didn't look up until I felt his shadow fall across the paperwork."The late-harvest yields are exceeding the estimates, Sarah," Norman said, his voice warm and steady... the same voice that had whispered promises to me while, unknown to me, he was typing messages to Lucy. "We’re going to have a record-breaking vintage."I looked up and forced a smile so wide it made my cheeks ache. I let out a light, airy laugh, the sound echoing hollowly in my own ears. "That’s incredible news, Norman. I knew I could trust you to handle the harvest perfectly. You always have such a green thumb."He stepped closer, moving into that small, private space we usually shared when the staff was busy. He reached out, his hand sliding ont

[Tyler’s POV]It was humiliating. A month ago, I owned this building. I owned the air inside that lobby. Now, I was a ghost haunting my own perimeter, my high-level security clearance revoked and my face likely pinned to the "do not allow" board in the security office. Sarah meant it when she said she would erase my existence from it.The interior of my SUV smelled like stale coffee and the frantic, sour sweat of a man who was losing everything. I had been sitting in the shadows of the parking structure across from the Rider Group building for nearly six hours, my eyes burning from staring at the revolving glass doors.I shifted in the leather seat, my back aching. I was exhausted. The lead from Detective Miller about the size 46 boots tracks found near where Beatrice was dumped, was screaming in the back of my mind. I needed to tell Sarah. I needed her to understand what my suspicions are.Give it up, Tyler, a voice in my head whispered. She’ll just call the police. She’ll think it’s

[Sarah’s POV] The shop was a tiny, cramped space squeezed between a laundromat and a shuttered deli. Above the door, a faded sign simply read Binary Solutions. When we stepped inside, the bell gave a tinny, rusted chime. Behind the cluttered counter, a girl who couldn't have been more than nineteen was hunched over a circuit board, a soldering iron in one hand and a magnifying loupe over one eye. Her hair was dyed a shock of electric blue, tucked under a backwards baseball cap. Dex stepped forward, his shadow looming over the counter. "We’re looking for the owner. The lead technician." The girl didn't look up. "You’re looking at her. What do you want?" Dex scoffed, a sound of pure doubt, amusement in his eyes like he just heard a funny joke. "Listen, kid, I don’t have time for games. Bring out your boss before I decide this place is a waste of our time." The girl finally set the soldering iron down. she flicked the loupe up and looked at Dex with a gaze that was as cold an

[Sarah’s POV] It was 5:00 AM when I stepped outside. The sky was still that weird purple-black it gets right before the sun decides to show up, and the cold hit me sharp, the kind that goes straight through your clothes. The valley was buried in fog. Quiet. But my head was anything but quiet. I hadn't turned on the porch lights. And I'd switched my boots for sneakers... softer on the gravel. I cut around to the back of the estate, staying close to the hedges. The Camry was right where Elijah had left it, tucked behind the trees at the back of the estate. A plain silver Toyota, the most forgettable car on the road. Just a rental that looked like it belonged to someone with a long commute and no interesting life. Elijah had dropped it off at midnight exactly. No questions asked. I slipped into the driver’s seat, the interior smelling of cheap old air freshener. I checked my watch. 5:12 AM. My phone vibrated in my lap, the screen glowing aggressively in the dark cabin. It was a te

[Tyler’s POV] The iron gates of the Rider estate groaned as they slid open, a sound that usually signaled the start of my sanctuary. But as the SUV rounded the final curve of the driveway, the peace was shattered. A familiar, high-pitched shriek tore through the afternoon air, cutting through the low hum of the engine. I saw her before I pulled to a stop. Lucy was standing on the front portico, her designer handbag swinging dangerously close to my sister Elena’s face. Two of our private security detail stood like stone statues between them, their expressions strained. Chloe was a few feet back, her arms crossed, her face a mask of pure, vibrating fury. "You are heartless, disgusting people!" Lucy’s voice cracked with a rehearsed desperation. "She is my daughter! You have no legal right to barricade this house! What kind of monsters keep a mother from her child?" I gripped the steering wheel tight. My blood was boiling, a physical heat rising up my neck. I looked at her—the wom