Alle Kapitel von Divorced And Out of His League: Kapitel 71 – Kapitel 80

Kayla’s POVThe voices around me faded in and out like radio static. I was somewhere between present reality and that moment when the gunshot shattered everything. The lobby that had once been filled with music and polite laughter was now locked down with caution tape and officers taking statements. The bright lights overhead hurt my eyes and the sharp smell of spilled champagne and gunpowder lingered in the air.I was sitting on a long bench against the wall with a foil blanket around my shoulders even though I was not cold. One of the officers had insisted on it, claiming shock could make people freeze without realizing it. I stared at the shiny folds without focus. Mel’s face would not leave my mind. Her eyes half open. Her mouth parted like she wanted to finish her sentence. The way the crowd scattered and trampled over the carpet that had been rolled out for glamour and prestige just minutes earlier.Someone spoke near

Kayla’s POVThe sunlight streamed through the blinds, harsh and unforgiving, stabbing at my eyes as if reminding me of the night before. My head throbbed violently, each pulse a hammer against my skull. I groaned, rolling onto my side and burying my face in the pillow. How had I ended up here? I forced myself upright, wincing at the pain radiating from my temples. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and something floral. My eyes fell on the clock. It was mid-afternoon. I could hear voices downstairs, faint but distinct. Curiosity and irritation tugged at me. Why was there someone at the house? My thoughts immediately went to Ashton—had he been here?I dragged myself out of bed, pressing a hand to my forehead as I made my way downstairs. The voices grew clearer. My mother’s voice, warm and anxious, was speaking to someone else. The moment I entered the living room, my irritation flared. Steven was

Steven’s POVI keep driving without turning my head, without slowing down, without doing anything that makes it obvious that I have noticed the black sedan behind me. It has been shadowing me for a while now, keeping a respectful distance, never too close, never too far. If I did not know better, I would think it was a coincidence or just regular traffic flow. But I do know better. My gut has been screaming at me since I left the restaurant.I tap my fingers lightly on the steering wheel just to keep my nerves from locking up. I try to focus on the road signs, on the lights, on pedestrians crossing for lunch runs. Normal things. Safe things. The kind of things that keep me from taking a turn that might get me boxed into an alley or an empty road where someone like that could make me disappear without witnesses.“Think,” I mutter under my breath. “Think.”I am good with hand-to-hand combat. I am decent with weapons. But I am not trained for car chases. And there is a huge difference b

Kayla’s POVThe bar was dim, the low hum of music and chatter around me barely registering. I hadn’t spoken a word since Ashton had led me to the booth. My thoughts were elsewhere, spinning around the woman who had been killed—Mel. I tried to narrow down who could have done it by ruling out those who weren’t at the hotel inauguration that night. A few names immediately came off the list. They should have been there, yet weren’t.And then there was Vivian. Of course, she was on my radar. She had been all over the racing fundraiser, posting about me online, stirring whispers and gossip. Every action of hers seemed like a calculated push against me, trying to make me stumble, to make me look guilty in the public eye.I barely noticed Ashton leaning across the table, his brows furrowed, watching me.“You okay?” he asked, voice careful.“I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile.

Kayla’s POVFive days. It had been exactly five days since I last spoke with my private investigator. Five days since I had instructed him to scrape through every possible crack in Vivian Ward’s life in search of something, anything that would link her to the murder of the woman called Mel. And for five long days, he had returned with empty hands.Every morning he sent a message saying the same thing.Nothing yet ma.Still searching ma.We are trying.Today’s message came half an hour ago. It was almost identical to the others, so that was when I realized that I was already losing interest in his weak capabilities. I needed results, not endless trying.As I tightened the straps of my running sneakers, I felt the weight of another thought: today was another training day for the race. And tomorrow would be the actual event. I would be seeing Vivian. The thought alone made my teeth clench.I had spent the last fi