All Chapters of He Never Claimed Me: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The loud knock made Maya jump violently on the couch, her head snapping toward the entryway with wide, terrified eyes. Ava quickly held up a hand, telling her sister to stay quiet without saying a word. Her own heart was hammering frantically against her ribs, the noise loud in her ears. "Ava? Are you there?" Noah’s voice was still coming through the phone, but it sounded strange. Closer. Like it was echoing from the other side of the wall. "Hold on," she whispered, lowering the phone but not hanging up. She walked carefully toward the door, her bare feet cold against the old floorboards. She leaned forward, pressing her eye to the tiny, scratched glass peephole. Her breath completely caught in her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth to stop herself from making a sound. It wasn't a threat. It wasn't the men who had chased Maya through the dark. It was Noah. He was standing right there in the dim, hallway of her apartment building. There were no towering bodyguards flanking

The drive to his place felt like it took forever, even though it was only twenty minutes. Neither of them spoke a word. Noah kept his fingers wrapped tightly around hers the entire time, his grip almost desperate, while he just stared out the window at the passing streetlights. His hand was warm, and even though Ava was still wrestling with that heavy knot of resentment in her stomach, she didn't try to pull away. She was just too tired to fight the silence. When the car finally pulled into the private underground garage, everything went smooth. The private elevator swept them up to the top floor without a single rattle. Stepping into his penthouse always felt like stepping onto a completely different planet. It was massive, full of clean lines, huge glass windows, and quiet luxury, looking out over the entire glowing city below. It was dead quiet up here. No police sirens, no shouting neighbors, no thin apartment walls. It felt entirely cut off from the messy reality of her real

Ava woke up to the smell of actual food cooking, which was weird because Noah’s kitchen usually felt more like a showroom than a place where people actually ate. She sat up on the edge of the massive bed, pulling the sheet around her shoulders. The apartment was still quiet, but it wasn't that heavy, suffocating silence from last night. Through the half-open bedroom door, she could hear the soft clink of a glass and the quiet scrape of a pan. When she walked out into the living room, wearing one of his oversized grey t-shirts, she found him standing by the stove. He had already showered, his dark hair still damp, but he hadn't put on the suit yet. He was just in a plain black shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. "Morning," he said, not looking up immediately as he flipped something in the pan. "Sit down. It's almost ready." Ava stood by the kitchen, watching him. He was being... fully there. Usually, mornings with Noah meant him staring at his tablet, answering three

Marcus brought Leo in through the back door, and the tiny click of the latch sounded incredibly loud in the kitchen. Ava stood up so fast from the table her chair scraped hard against the lino, a harsh, grating noise that made everyone jump. Her mom was already moving past her, her hands shaking, reaching for Leo before he even took his jacket off. Leo looked small. Seeing him under the weak, yellow bulb of the kitchen ceiling was entirely different from seeing him under the harsh fluorescent lights of the county hospital trauma bay. The blood had been washed away, replaced by the yellow-green tint of iodine and a thick wrap of white gauze around his right wrist, but the swelling had fully set in. His split lip was twice its normal size, turning a dark, angry purple. The worst part was how quiet he was. Leo never shut up. He was always reckless, careless, untouchable in his own mind. Usually, he’d walk in slamming doors, complaining about his truck, or asking what was for dinner

The silence inside the private dining room at the club was different from the silence in Ava’s house. It didn't smell like bleach. It just smelled like clean leather, gin, and money. Noah sat across from his mother, Lydia, his fingers resting against his cup, His secretary had already called him ten minutes ago to confirm that Victor’s lawyers had the signatures ready before the weekend, but Noah hadn't even looked at the email confirmation. Right now, he was looking down at his phone, which sat flat on the table. The screen was dark. It had been dark for twenty minutes, but his hand hadn't moved away from it since his mother had arrived. "Noah," Lydia said, her voice even and quiet. She didn't look up from her tablet. He looked up from the dead screen to meet his mother’s eyes. "The harbor project is fine. My secretary already confirmed Victor's team is ready. I'll look over the final clauses before the three o'clock meeting." "You already looked over them," Lydia said. She