One Night, Wrong Man のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

*POV Derby* Gold-leaf borders on the charity gala invitation caught the dull light of the setting sun, but I couldn't bring myself to look at it anymore. I turned the card facedown on the long mahogany conference table, the heavy silence of the empty room settling over my shoulders like a physical weight. Everyone else had left an hour ago. The spreadsheets were finalized, the logistics charts were uploaded, and the corporate task force had scattered to prepare for the high-society battlefield Tamara had laid out for us. Yet, I remained. And so did he. Across the polished wood, Jordan sat with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, his tie loosened just enough to look human. His fingers restively turned a heavy silver pen over and over against a closed leather folder. We had spent weeks working like this, operating in an intricate dance of numbers, market projections, and clipped, professional directives. It was exhausting. Not because of the relentless hours or Senior D

*POV Derby* Cameras flashed in a terrifying, continuous rhythm, blinding white against the grand marble courtyard of the Hayden estate. Engine hums of executive town cars echoed against the manicured hedges as the city’s high society poured out onto the velvet carpet. I leaned against a stone pillar near the edge of the terrace, my fingers tightening around my champagne flute until the glass groaned under the pressure. My black silk evening gown was simple, professional, and entirely invisible—exactly what was expected of a junior analyst representing the Vasquez Group task force. I stood with Megan and two logistics managers, holding a tablet with live feed updates on the Apex investor arrivals, doing my absolute best to act like an employee. Then the headliner vehicle pulled up. A deep charcoal Maybach glided to a stop at the base of the steps. The valet opened the door, and the entire perimeter of reporters instantly surged forward like starving hounds scenting blood. Tamara

*POV Derby* A sudden gust of wind swept through the open terrace archway, rattling the dead leaves along the damp stone tiles and sending a sharp chill through the silk fabric of my dress. My fingers pressed firm against Jordan’s wrist, forcing his grip to loosen until his hand dropped to his side like lead. For months, I had been the one shrinking into corners, waiting for his subtle nods, adjusting my heart to his unpredictable shifts between distant corporate strategist and desperate, protective lover. I had accepted the secret looks in late-night conference rooms because I thought we were fighting the same war. I was done hiding behind his strategy. I stepped back, putting two clear paces between us, and looked him straight in the eyes. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't break into tears. The quiet calm settling over me felt far more dangerous than anger. "You don't get to stop me either," I said, every word crisp, clear, and unyielding in the empty corridor. Jordan stood m

*POV Derby* Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow across the private dining hall of the Hayden estate, where the soft strains of a live string quartet drifted over polished silverware and quiet laughter. The air smelled expensive—a mix of white lilies, vintage champagne, and the understated perfume of high-society power. I smoothed the side of my tailored navy suit jacket, checking my tablet one last time to ensure the regional financial briefs were loaded for the board members. I was here as part of the Vasquez Group operations team—a buffer meant to keep technical details running smoothly while the families discussed the merger terms over dinner. "Derby, darling." A smooth, melodic voice cut through the background hum. Tamara Hayden glided across the parquet floor toward me, her ivory silk dress catching the light with every grace-filled step. She didn't march like an enemy. She moved like a hostess welcoming a valued guest, her smile warm, radiant, and utterly flawless. She

*POV Derby* Gravel crunching under heavy leather shoes was the only warning I had before the cold night air shifted, carrying that familiar, faint scent of cedarwood into the shadow of the stone balcony. I kept my back to the archway, my fingers gripping the chill of the iron railing as if it were the only anchor left in the world. Jordan didn't stop at the doorway. He walked straight out onto the stone ledge, his tuxedo jacket unbuttoned, his dark eyes fixed on my profile with an intensity that practically vibrated in the quiet night. "What did she say to you?" His voice was low, rough, and entirely stripped of executive composure. I didn't turn around. I looked out at the dark, rolling hills of the Hayden estate, where the distant city lights flickered like dying embers. "Nothing that wasn't true." "Derby, look at me." He closed the distance between us in three long strides, stopping right at my shoulder. The sheer heat radiating off his body was overwhelming, an inescapable t