All Chapters of My Brother's Bestfriend turns me on : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

A maintenance van approached the service entrance with correct papers and a familiar contractor logo. The gate team followed protocol, held the vehicle, and ran the secondary check. The driver and the man in the passenger seat both carried the confidence of people who had done this before. When the rear doors were opened for inspection, the false floor was almost good enough. Almost. The hidden compartment held short range weapons, plastic explosives in small charges, and a simple remote trigger. Not enough for another full siege. Enough to breach a single reinforced door or collapse a section of corridor during a ceremony. The men were taken alive. The interrogation was short and one sided. They had been paid through a cut out that traced back to the same Valenti lieutenant identified in the earlier warehouse surveillance. The target window was clear. The day of the wedding or the final forty eight hours before it, when attention would be split between security and the ceremony itse

Twelve days became eleven while the house tore itself apart looking for one man and a set of keys. The re-coring of locks began at first light. Teams worked corridor by corridor, changing cores, testing new keys, sealing any door that could not be updated before nightfall. The utility tunnels under the laundry wing were searched again, this time with dogs and portable sensors. They came up empty. No fresh scent trail. Killian stayed with me in the interior suite. The monitors recorded it. Dante did not order him back to his own rooms. He cleaned his sidearm twice during the morning. I watched the steady, familiar motions and tried to ignore the way the nausea came and went in short, vicious waves. Enzo brought the midday update himself. His face was tired. “Father won’t move the date. Dante agrees. The ceremony stays on the eleventh day from now. They’re treating the missing keys as a contained risk as long as the conference room and the residential core are fully re-cored before t

The days went by quickly and filled with a lot of tension. Four days became three, three days became two and two days became one day left. I woke before nausea hit, already listening. The suite was quiet. Killian stood at the narrow reinforced window slit that looked onto an inner courtyard, not the outer grounds. “Tomorrow is the day we've been waiting for,” he said without turning. “Yes it is.” I sat up. The word felt heavy. One day until our child becomes a legal Vance heir. One day until Lorenzo’s people lost the easiest legal path to erase what we had made. I spent the middle of the day doing the only useful thing left. Walking the short length of the suite over and over while Killian watched the door. The pregnancy made my balance feel off. My lower back ached a little. When I stopped, Killian made me sit and drink water. His hand settled on the curve of my stomach without comment. We had both stopped treating the child as a claim that might still disappear. In the late aft

The next day after felt unreal. Killian and I were married, no more missing keys, no more internal threats. The house remained under wartime footing, but the position of it is different. Teams still patrolled the corridors, and cameras still covered every corner. I woke to sunlight passing through the narrow reinforced window and the solid warmth of Killian beside me. For a few seconds I only listened to him breathe. No boots moving at emergency pace in the hallway. He opened his eyes when I shifted. The readiness was still there, but it was less tense than before. “Any word?” I asked. “Not yet. Dante’s holding a morning briefing in an hour. We’re expected.” We dressed without hurry. The slight curve of my stomach was more noticeable in the daylight. I caught Killian looking at it once with an expression that was equal parts wonder and fierce protectiveness. Neither of us commented. Some things did not need words yet. Everyone was already at the main study when we arrived. Fath

The week after the rifle specialists came down felt oddliy calm. The house was trying to readjust to normal while still being fully guarded. I felt the change most in the small things. The doctor no longer arrived under double escort as if the corridor itself might open fire. Killian’s monitors remained, but the men assigned to him kept a wider distance. We could walk the inner courtyard without counting every second of exposure. My pregnancy felt heavier in my body. Long periods of standing became uncomfortable and certain smells from the kitchen turned into a problem for me. While walking, I found Bianca in the upstairs gallery, standing in front of the same portraits she had studied weeks earlier. She did not pretend surprise at my arrival. “The shooters are gone,” she said. “The roads are now clear. Your child is officially legitimate. And yet you still walk these halls like someone waiting for the next door to open the wrong way.” “I’m walking through them like someone who kn