บททั้งหมดของ His Wrong Wife, His Right Obsession : บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Lauren's POVThree weeks of nothing from Vivian Moreau should have felt like winning the lottery. For most people, radio silence from a psychotic blonde with a vendetta would mean breathing space, maybe even a chance to sleep without one eye open. For me, it was a goddamn fire alarm blaring in my skull. That bitch didn’t ghost people because she was done. She went quiet the way a sniper goes quiet—lining up the shot.I sat on the edge of the bed in the master suite, the sapphire ring Julian had given me catching the light from the city skyline. It still felt foreign on my finger, heavier than the diamond Serena used to wear, but real in a way that made my chest tight. I pulled the burner phone from the bottom drawer of the nightstand, the one I kept hidden even from Julian. My thumb scrolled through the thread for the hundredth time.'Vivian: Fifty days, impostor. Or I send your precious sister back in pieces and tell your monster husband exactly who’s been warming his bed. Tick tock

Lauren’s POV Life settled into a strange, comfortable domesticity.It wasn’t the kind of peace regular people experienced—there were still armed guards at the perimeter of the estate and Marcus’s team constantly running sweeps— but for us, it was a profound sort of quiet. The ghost of Serena had been completely scrubbed from the penthouse, replaced by the faint, consistent scent of vanilla body spray and the gritty reality of who I actually was.I wasn't a Vance anymore. Not in this house.I began accompanying Julian to his legitimate business meetings. I wasn’t there as decoration, and I damn sure wasn’t there playing the role of Serena’s ghost. I went as myself. When we walked into the sleek, glass-walled conference rooms in downtown Seattle, Julian introduced me simply."This is Lauren," he’d say to the few people he deemed worthy of his trust.But the underworld didn't just stop spinning because we wanted a breather.During a morning briefing at the Cross Holdings headquarters, t

Lauren’s POV The medical team arrived in exactly eleven minutes. I knew because I spent every second of those eleven minutes staring at the digital clock on the bedside table, my hand pressed flat against my stomach.Marcus had three guards posted at the door, their faces pale, while the private medical team Julian kept on a permanent, multi-million-dollar retainer flooded the master bedroom. They didn’t ask questions. They just moved efficiently. I stood in the corner, pressing myself against the cold glass of the window, watching them run neurological assessments.Julian sat rigidly on the edge of the mattress. He wasn’t wearing his shirt, his chest was broad and scarred under the harsh clinical lights the medics had set up. If you didn’t know what had just happened, you’d think he was completely fine. His posture was perfect. His voice, when he answered the neurologist’s questions, was steady, precise, and chillingly calm."Name?" the doctor asked."Julian Cross.""Age?""Twenty-

Julian’s POV The penthouse felt empty. It was a huge, expensive box that I had spent years turning into a fortress, but it felt like a shell. I walked through the front hall, my shoes clicking against the marble floor. Usually, this sound calmed me. Today, it just felt hollow.I had been dealing with a break-in—someone had tried to mess with our building’s systems. My security chief, Marcus, had been running around, talking about “experts” and new people he’d hired to fix the holes in our security. I barely listened. I just wanted the problem fixed. I didn’t care who was doing it. I didn't care about their names or their backgrounds. As long as they did their jobs, they were ghosts to me.I caught a glimpse of someone standing near the service hallway—a woman, someone from the new security team. I didn't even really look at her face. My mind was on work, thinking about my business and the threats to my money. She was just another face in the crowd. I walked past her without a glance.

Julian’s POV The air in the study felt heavy and stale. It was that suffocating kind of silence that usually meant something was about to go wrong. I paced the room, the sharp click of my shoes against the wood matching the throbbing in my head. My mind felt like a locked room I couldn't open, and this damn acquisition report on my desk was doing nothing to help.The legal team had cleared the deal, but my gut was screaming that something was wrong. My memory of the last sixteen months was a blank, but my instincts? They were still razor-sharp.The door creaked open. I didn't look up, expecting Serena. I was already bracing myself for her fake, sugary voice and the way she liked to touch my arm like she actually owned me."You’re going to burn yourself out, Julian."That voice wasn't hers. It was thinner, sharper, and completely honest. I looked up. It was the twin–Lauren. She was standing by my desk, looking at one of my files like it was a casual magazine."Get out," I said, my voi