All Chapters of Forbidden Obsession : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The enemy you trust is the one that cuts deepest when the knife finally turns.John did not sleep that night. He sat at the kitchen table with his laptop open, going through every security file, every payment record, every background check on the men who were supposed to protect us. I brought him coffee at three in the morning and found him rubbing his eyes, his face lined with exhaustion and anger.“I am starting an internal investigation,” he said without looking up. “Someone on our team sold us out. Someone let that sniper get close enough to shoot Sarah. I will find them. And when I do, they will wish they had never crossed this family.”I set the coffee down and sat beside him, taking his hand. “You need rest John. You cannot do this alone. Let me help you. We are in this together remember?”He squeezed my hand but his eyes stayed on the screen. “I know. But right now I need to do this. I need to know who I can still trust.”

The most dangerous enemies are the ones who smile while they sharpen the knife.I was sitting beside Mia’s hospital bed when she finally woke up enough to speak clearly. The machines beeped steadily around us, a constant reminder of how close we had come to losing her. John stood on the other side, his hand gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were white. My mother sat in the corner with Hope sleeping in her lap. The room felt too small for all the fear and anger we were carrying.Mia’s eyes fluttered open and she looked straight at me. Her voice was weak but clear. “It was Raven. She was at the event. She came up to me smiling like we were friends. She handed me the drink and said it was to celebrate new beginnings. I trusted her Liana. I thought she was our sister.”John’s face went hard. “Raven. Ethan’s half-sister. She played us all. Pretended to want peace while she poisoned my daughter. I will find her. I swear it.”I squee

The worst nightmares are the ones that begin the moment you open your eyes.I woke up to silence. That was the first thing that felt wrong. Hope always made small sounds in the night. A soft coo. A little sigh. The gentle rustle of her blanket. But this morning there was nothing. I reached out for John in the dark and found him already sitting up, staring at the crib beside our bed.“John?” I whispered, my voice thick with sleep. “What is it?”He did not answer right away. He stood up slowly and walked to the crib. I saw his shoulders tense. Then he turned to me, his face pale in the moonlight coming through the window.“She is gone,” he said, his voice breaking. “Hope is gone Liana. The crib is empty.”I bolted upright, my heart slamming against my ribs. I rushed to the crib and touched the rumpled blankets. They were still warm. But our daughter was not there. The window was open just a crack. A single red rose lay on the pill

In the end, the longest wars are not won with bullets. They are won with the last words spoken between two people who once loved each other.The old ballroom felt like a tomb when we finally reached it. Moonlight streamed through the broken windows, casting long shadows across the cracked marble floor. Sarah stood in the center of the room with Hope cradled in her arms. Our daughter was crying softly, her tiny face red and frightened. John stood ten feet away, his gun lowered but his body tense like a coiled spring. I hid in the shadows near the side entrance, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I had slipped away from the others to get closer. I could not wait any longer. My baby was in the arms of a woman who had already tried to destroy us once.Sarah looked at John with eyes full of years of pain. “You came alone. Good. I told you to choose. Your old family or your new one. So tell me John. Who do you pick? The woman you mourned for

The past does not always knock. Sometimes it waits until your children are old enough to draw it on paper.Years had slipped by like sand through our fingers. Hope was three now, a bright-eyed toddler with John’s dark hair and my stubborn smile. The beach house had become our home in every sense of the word. Mia had finished college and was engaged to Daniel, a kind man who made her laugh in a way that filled the rooms with light. John and I were expecting our second child, a little boy we already called Lucas in quiet conversations. Life had settled into a rhythm that felt almost normal. Almost.I stood on the porch one warm afternoon watching Hope play in the sand with a bucket and shovel. John walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands resting gently on my growing belly.“She is getting so big,” he said softly, kissing the side of my neck. “I cannot believe she will be four soon. And Lucas will be here before we know i