《Serving My Husband His Own Medicine 》全部章節：第 21 章 - 第 30 章

Hannah's POV. "I don't usually let people see the mess," Alexander said.He didn't look back at me as he spoke. He was standing at the massive marble island in his kitchen, his back to me. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie, throwing them over a chair like they were trash. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the sleeves shoved up past his elbows.I sat on the high leather stool, my hands gripped together in my lap. I couldn't look away. I watched the way his broad shoulders moved as he worked a knife across a wooden board. He wasn't just cooking; he was precise, his movements sharp and focused. I saw the thick, dark veins on the backs of his hands and the way the muscles in his forearms flexed every time he pressed down.A stray lock of dark hair fell over his eye. He didn't blow it away. He just kept working, his jaw set in a hard line.In my house, the kitchen was my cage. I spent three years standing over a stove, watching the clock, terrified tha

Hannah's POV"I didn't ask for a second opinion, Analyst Vance. I asked for the physical files."My voice didn't shake. I stood at the edge of the mezzanine, looking down at the open-plan office of Mercer Global. The usual morning noise...the clicking of keyboards, the low chatter of the sales team, the hiss of the industrial espresso machine...had died out the second I stepped into the light.Everyone was looking. They had seen the black SUV drop me off. They had seen the way the driver, a man with a build like a brick wall, held the door for me. But mostly, they were looking at the fact that I was standing where Daniel used to stand.Daniel stood at a tiny, cramped desk in the middle of the floor. He looked haggard. His white shirt was wrinkled at the elbows, and there was a dark coffee stain near his belt. He looked up at me, his eyes rimmed with red. The "King of the Office" was gone. In his place was a man who looked like he’d spent the night sleeping on a park bench."I’m gettin

Alexander’s POV The drive back to my penthouse was of lights and the lingering scent of salt air. I walked through the front door, the silence of the massive apartment hitting me like a wall. I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't need them. I poured a glass of scotch and stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city pulse below me. My mind was a chaotic loop of the night... the way Hannah’s laugh had filled the boat, the heat of her skin, the way she finally looked at me like I was a person and not just a savior. But as the scotch burned down my throat, my thoughts drifted further back. Back to 2022. I sat on the edge of the leather sofa and closed my eyes. It was April. The Charity Gala was a sea of fake smiles and stiff tuxedos. I was standing near the marble pillars, nursing a drink and wondering how soon I could leave without offending the board. Then, the air in the room seemed to change. I saw her. She wasn't a socialite; she was an assistant for one of the small

Hannah’s POV.The click of the lock was the most satisfying sound I’d heard in years. Behind that door, the air in the guest suite was still and cool, a opposite to the suffocating heat of the rest of the house. I could hear them through the vents...the muffled, ugly rhythm of Daniel and Grace arguing. Grace was crying about her hair, and Daniel was pacing, his footsteps heavy and desperate.I didn't look at the door. I looked at the bed.The midnight-blue gown lay there like a pool of deep water. It was silent, expensive, and devastating. Next to it, the diamond necklace caught the light from the window, throwing tiny white sparks across the ceiling. For three years, I had worn beige. I had worn gray. I had worn clothes that made me look like a shadow so Daniel could feel like the sun.I walked into the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it. As the steam rose, I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't see the woman who had begged for a crumb of affection a mon

Hannah's POV. I stood my ground, my fingers curled tight around the strap of my clutch. Daniel looked like a ghost that had been dragged through a gutter. His eyes were bloodshot, dancing around the room as if he expected the statues to come alive and arrest him. He was shaking, the smell of cheap gin coming off him in waves that made the high-society women nearby press their silk napkins to their noses."Samuel is crying, Hannah," Daniel repeated, his voice cracking. He took a step toward me, but Alexander moved like a mountain, blocking his path without saying a word. "He’s calling for you. How can you stand here in diamonds while our son is at home with a fever?"A fever. It was a lie. I knew it, and Daniel knew I knew it. He was using a three-year-old boy as a human shield because he had nothing else left."He doesn't have a fever, Daniel," I said. My voice was flat, echoing the coldness in my chest. "I saw him thirty minutes ago. He was eating a cookie and watching cartoons. You