Married To My Gay Bestfriend 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 61 - 챕터 70

Eve's POVDevin came home late that night. I was on the couch, reading a book I hadn't absorbed a single word of since I opened it. The moment I heard his key in the lock, I was on my feet.He looked exhausted and he was not just physically tired, but emotionally drained, the kind of weariness that settled into the bones and stayed there. His tie was loosened. His hair was disheveled. There was a crease between his brows that I wanted to smooth away with my thumb."What happened?" I asked.He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms. He held me tightly, his face buried in my hair, his body pressing against mine like he was trying to memorize the shape of me. I felt the tension in his shoulders, the slight tremor in his hands."Alden has been laundering money through Cresswell accounts and trafficking arms, weapons and ammunition, all of it routed through the family's shipping routes under legitimate cargo manifests. He's moved over two hundred million dollars through shell compani

Eve's POVThe hospital room was quiet. Machines beeped softly in the background, monitoring my heart rate and blood pressure and all the other vital signs that apparently concerned the doctors. I had been poked and prodded and examined for hours. A CT scan to check for head trauma. X-rays of my wrists where the ropes had left their marks. Blood drawn and sent to the lab for analysis. A parade of nurses and doctors and specialists, all of them asking the same questions.How long were you held? Were you given food or water? Did they hurt you? How did you escape?Devin stayed by my side through all of it. He held my hand during the CT scan. He stood in the corner of the room during the X-rays, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He answered questions when I was too tired to speak. He signed forms and made phone calls and handled everything with the same quiet competence he brought to every crisis.But I could see the strain underneath. The way his jaw tightened every time a doct

Eve's POVThe weeks that followed were the happiest of my life.I woke every morning to the weight of Devin's arm draped across my waist and the steady rhythm of his breathing against my hair. The pregnancy made me tired in a way I had never experienced before, a bone-deep exhaustion that settled into my body and refused to leave. But it also made everything sharper. The morning light through the bedroom windows seemed more golden. The smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen seemed richer. The sound of Devin humming while he made breakfast, some old song I didn't recognize, seemed sweeter.I was eight weeks along now. The nausea had faded, replaced by a constant low-grade hunger that sent me wandering into the kitchen at odd hours. Devin had learned to keep the refrigerator stocked with my latest cravings. Pickles and ice cream. Salted crackers and fresh mango. A particular brand of raspberry yogurt that I had never cared about before but now couldn't live without. He never complained.

Devin's POVThe letter sat on the coffee table between us like a live grenade, its words still echoing in the silence of the apartment. I had read it seven times now, and each reading revealed nothing new except another layer of cold, calculated menace. The phrasing was careful and precise, almost clinical in its cruelty, as if the author had drafted and redrafted each sentence to maximize the psychological damage while leaving no trace of their identity.I called Marguerite at six in the morning. She answered on the second ring, her voice alert despite the hour. Marguerite Chen was not a woman who slept late or was caught unprepared. She had been the executor of the Lovelace estate for over twenty years, and in all that time she had never once been surprised by the depths of human greed and cruelty. I suspected this would not be the exception."Mr. Cresswell," she said when I explained what had happened. "I'll be there within the hour. Don't touch the letter again. There may be foren

Eve’s POV The message was brief. She could not protect you either. The words hit me like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs and leaving me gasping. My mother. The car accident. The tampered brakes that the mechanic had found and documented and that my father had ignored. Martin had killed her, or had her killed, and now someone was using her memory, her precious heirloom, her own name, to threaten me and my unborn child in the most vicious way imaginable. I set the rattle down on my desk with exaggerated care because if I did not place it gently I was afraid I might throw it against the wall and watch it shatter. My hands were shaking badly now. Priya was watching me with wide eyes, her professional composure finally crumbling in the face of something so far beyond normal workplace boundaries. "I am calling Mr. Cresswell right now," she said, reaching for her phone. "No." My voice c