Breed Me Raw, Daddy のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

The shareholder meeting fallout hit harder than expected. By Friday morning, the financial news sites were running headlines that made my stomach twist: Kane Enterprises Faces Leadership Turmoil Amid Personal Scandal and Victor Lang Positions Himself as Stabilizing Force for Kane Empire. Stock had dropped another six percent overnight. Aiden had been awake since four, pacing the penthouse like a caged animal while fielding calls from anxious investors. I made strong coffee and toast, setting it on the kitchen island as he passed by for the third time. He paused long enough to take a sip, but his eyes were distant, calculating moves three steps ahead. “They’re requesting my presence at an in-person emergency gathering on Monday,” he said. His voice was flat, controlled, but I knew the undercurrent. “Lang will be there. He’s rallying support. Using the leaked emails and the media circus as proof I’m compromised.” I stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop moving. “You’re not comp

The independent review process kicked off with brutal efficiency. By Tuesday, auditors and external consultants were crawling through Aiden’s records, and Victor Lang had positioned himself as the unofficial shadow leader, giving interviews that stopped just short of calling for Aiden’s resignation. The penthouse had become a war room. Aiden spent most of his waking hours on calls or poring over documents, but the cracks in his armor were wider than ever. The vulnerability he’d shown me over the past week had become a double edged sword, it strengthened our bond but left him raw in the face of professional attacks. I tried to stay useful. I handled small tasks, organizing files, making sure he ate, offering quiet company during breaks. But the weight of everything pressed on me too. My own emails were piling up: Elena needing a final answer on Lisbon by the end of the week, my agent’s official termination notice, and increasingly worried messages from my family. Photography felt dist

The following days blurred into a haze of forced rest and quiet reckoning. My body had issued its warning, and Aiden took it as a personal mandate. He cleared his schedule as much as the ongoing review process would allow, turning the penthouse into a makeshift recovery ward. No more marathon emotional nights that left us drained. No lingering in the intensity that had become our normal. Just rest, nutrition, and the kind of careful attention that felt both healing and exposing. By Saturday afternoon, the dizziness had mostly subsided, but a bone-deep fatigue remained. I spent most of the day on the couch with a blanket, camera idle on the coffee table. Every time I reached for it, my hands felt heavy. The simple act of framing a shot seemed monumental. Aiden brought me another smoothie, kale, banana, protein powder, the blend he’d researched meticulously after the doctor’s visit. He sat beside me, watching as I drank it slowly. “You’re hovering,” I said with a weak smile. “Guilty

The second week of recovery felt like wading through thick fog. My body was slowly cooperating—headaches less frequent, dizziness mostly gone—but the mental and emotional exhaustion lingered like a shadow that refused to lift. I spent long hours in the studio, not always shooting but simply sitting with my camera, trying to reconnect with the part of myself that had once found joy in light and shadow and fleeting moments. Some days the spark returned briefly. Others, it felt like staring at a stranger’s tools. Aiden had restructured his days around my needs with a discipline that was both touching and overwhelming. Mornings started with him bringing breakfast in bed, oatmeal with fruits, eggs, the nutrient-dense meals the doctor had recommended. He joined me for gentle yoga sessions in the living room, his powerful frame moving with surprising care beside me. The business review continued in the background, but he delegated ruthlessly, prioritizing what he now called “our foundation.

The final days of the health-focused recovery period felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. My body had stabilized, bloodwork improved, energy levels rising, headaches rare, but the deeper questions about identity and the sustainability of our relationship loomed larger than ever. Aiden had thrown himself into supporting my healing with a dedication that was both beautiful and bittersweet. The man who once demanded my total surrender now seemed determined to prove he could hold space for my independence. One crisp morning, I woke feeling stronger than I had in weeks. Aiden was already up, preparing a breakfast spread in the kitchen. Fresh fruit, avocado toast, eggs cooked exactly the way I liked. He smiled when I entered, pulling me into a gentle hug. “Big day today,” he said. “You mentioned wanting to shoot downtown. I cleared a secure window. Three hours, full security team. No pressure if you’re not ready.” I was ready. The outing became a turning point. With camera in hand