บททั้งหมดของ Married To My Gay Bestfriend : บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

Eve's POVThe second threat came on a Friday, delivered not by mail or courier but by a voice on the phone.I was working from the dining table, reviewing the quarterly projections that Priya had flagged for my attention, when my cell phone rang with a number I did not recognize. The security team had set up call screening, but this call had bypassed their filters somehow, routed through a series of proxies that made it untraceable. I answered before thinking, still distracted by the columns of numbers swimming before my eyes."Mrs. Cresswell." The voice was male, smooth and educated, with the faint trace of an accent I could not quite place. "You have been very difficult to reach.""Who is this?""You know who I am. You have been looking for me. I thought it was time we spoke directly."Alistair Pembrooke. It had to be him. I gestured frantically at Priya, who was working at the other end of the table, and she immediately began

Eve's POVThe morning after Pembrooke's arrest, I woke to the smell of pancakes and the sound of Devin humming in the kitchen. Real humming, not the distracted kind he did when he was working through a problem. This was contented humming, the sound of a man who had finally set down a burden he had been carrying for too long. I lay in bed for a few minutes longer than usual, my hand resting on the growing curve of my belly, and let myself feel something I had not felt in months. Peace. Real, uncomplicated peace.The baby kicked, a gentle flutter against my palm, as if to remind me that we were both still here, both still fighting, both still alive despite everything that had been thrown at us. I whispered a good morning to the tiny life inside me and finally pushed myself out of bed.Priya had returned to her own apartment two days ago, now that the immediate danger had passed and Gregory Hale was safely behind bars. The security detail had been reduced to a single guard at the buildin

Devin's POVThe apartment felt different after Croft's arrest, lighter somehow, as if the walls themselves had been holding their breath for months and had finally exhaled. Eve moved through the rooms with a newfound ease, her shoulders no longer rigid with tension, her hand resting on her belly not in protective fear but in quiet contentment. The security team had been reduced to a single guard at the building entrance, a compromise I had negotiated with myself after hours of internal debate. Solomon assured me the immediate threat had passed, and Marguerite confirmed that Croft was being held without bail pending a trial that would almost certainly end in multiple life sentences.But I could not shake the feeling that something still lingered in the shadows. Croft's journal had mentioned others, allies scattered across Europe and South America who shared his vendetta against the Lovelace name. None of them had made a move yet, and Mark's investigation suggested they were more intere

Eve's POVThe antenatal appointment had been scheduled for weeks, ever since Dr. Rivera had suggested I come into the hospital for a full workup instead of relying solely on the home visits that had become our compromise during the months of danger. I had been taking my prenatal vitamins religiously, the large white tablets that tasted faintly of chalk and left a bitter aftertaste on my tongue, and I had been eating the nutritious foods Devin kept pushing on me with the gentle persistence of a man who had appointed himself the guardian of my pregnancy. But the home visits had been limited, the portable ultrasound machine offering only grainy glimpses of the life growing inside me, and Dr. Rivera wanted a more thorough examination now that I was nearly twenty weeks along.The morning of the appointment dawned bright and cold, a crisp winter day with a sky so blue it looked painted. Devin insisted on driving us himself, the single remaining security guard relegated to a separate vehic

Devin's POVSolomon's facility was the same one where Alden had been held, a concrete bunker buried beneath an industrial complex in New Jersey that did not exist on any official record. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead with that same maddening hum, and the air was cold and damp and smelled faintly of rust. I had hoped never to return to this place after Alden was dealt with. The walls held memories I did not care to revisit. Yet here I was again, standing in a corridor that seemed to stretch forever into the darkness, waiting for answers that might determine whether my family would ever truly be safe.Archer was in the same cell Alden had occupied. There was a symmetry to that which I did not appreciate. He was sitting on the narrow cot with his head in his hands, his dark hair disheveled and his posture slumped. He looked younger than I remembered, barely out of his twenties, with the kind of face that should have belonged to someone just starting their life rather than someon