บททั้งหมดของ Bound By His Brother's Heart: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

By the time Veronica Beckett stepped into the building, the city had already moved on. The air was crisper than the day before, carrying the faint scent of dry leaves through the revolving doors, the light falling pale against glass and steel outside."Good morning, Ms. Beckett."She acknowledged it with a slight nod, not breaking stride. The black she wore today wasn't the same as yesterday, it was silk, cleaner in line, with no trace of the damp earth or crushed lilies that had clung to her the evening before. It drew the same attention anyway.Her assistant, Maya, fell into step beside her just before the elevators. "You have a board review in twenty minutes," Maya said, matching her pace. "Legal is waiting on confirmation about the acquisition delay, and…" she paused, choosing carefully, "Sterling withdrew preliminary support late last night."Veronica’s step faltered, just enough to be seen, before she reached for the elevator button.The doors opened with a soft chime."After the

Morning settled into the house in layers of light that stretched across the room without urgency, touching the edge of the table first, the glass clear beneath a low arrangement of fresh white lilies, then moving across the floor, gradually warming the wood.Veronica stood by the window, barefoot. The cup in her hand had gone untouched long enough for the tea to cool, but she hadn't noticed. Outside, the garden kept its shape, every line intentional without feeling forced, the stone curve set into grass, the narrow stream catching light for a moment before disappearing again. She rested her shoulders against the frame as the fabric slipped, and she let it.What she wore did not belong outside these walls, soft, loose, barely structured, hanging from her body rather than defining it, moving with her, grazing her waist and falling cleanly across her hips. No effort to adjust it. Her hair was worse. Or better. Dark, unruly, falling forward when she leaned, slipping back when she straighte

Veronica didn't leave the room.She had moved further in without thinking about it, and now she was simply there, standing near the desk with no clear reason to remain.Rain pressed lightly against the windows. Not heavy enough to distort the grounds entirely, only enough to soften the edges of them. She hadn't noticed when it started.Her gaze moved across the office without urgency. The desk. The shelves. Then stopped.A photograph sat near the edge of the desk, angled slightly away, as though it belonged there without wanting attention.She stepped closer.Alden. Younger.The sharpness was already there, though less defined then, not yet cut into something severe. She remembered seeing him at family functions years ago. Rooms full of people speaking too loudly over expensive wine and polite music. He had always been somewhere in the background.She had never really looked at him.Her fingers brushed the edge of the frame before she caught herself and pulled back."You're still in he

The Cotswolds didn't know anything about Veronica Beckett, and for the first time in a long time, that was exactly what she needed. Honey-coloured stone cottages tucked into rolling hills, sheep grazing the valley below, and morning mist still hanging between the trees. The kind of place that made London feel very far away, but just a two hour drive. She had been here four days, and had not checked her phone in three. It sat on the bedside table where she had left it the morning after arriving, face down, silent. Maya had glanced at it on the second day and said nothing. She had followed her to the cottage, no questions asked. The cottage belonged to no one connected to her professionally. That was the only rule. No hotels with staff who recognised the Beckett name, no properties tied to anyone her board might think to call. Maya had found it through a letting agency in Cirencester, paid in cash, given a false surname at the door. Veronica had not asked her to do any of that. She

Veronica opened the door before he had finished knocking. She stood on the other side in cream silk, barefoot, her hair loose around her face, and for a second Alden forgot why he was there. He had only ever seen her composed and guarded. This was none of those things.He took her in once before he could stop, and that was when he saw it. Just above the neckline of her dress. A scar. Faint, silvered. He had known she carried the scar from the transplant. Seeing it there against her skin was something else entirely. For a moment, his anger lost its footing. What she must have gone through.He stopped the thought before it could go any further. "I wasn't expec—" "We need to talk," he said.She stepped back to let him in.Inside, the ceilings were low and he could feel the warmth from the fireplace. The space intimate in a way his homes never were. Rain fell steadily against the windows. She had her arms folded across herself."How did you find me," she said. There was no real sur