บททั้งหมดของ Married to My Enemy's Son: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

Nadia woke at six.There was no sudden jolt from an alarm, just the quiet dawn filtering through the curtains of a room that felt entirely transformed.The physical space remained unchanged—the bedside table stood exactly where it always had, and the framed photograph of her mother rested on the dresser just as she had arranged it back in January.Yet, the room felt different.She lay perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling and simply letting the morning wash over her.It was the first day after months of mounting tension had finally broken, leaving behind a quiet sense of clarity.She had expected to feel a lingering trace of anxiety, the natural apprehension of someone who had crossed a major emotional threshold.Instead, a quiet calm settled over her.Honesty hasn't complicated anything.It had simply taken away the distance she'd been living with.Sitting up, she wrapped her robe tightly around herself and walked over to the glass.Outside, the estate grounds were washed in a c

The regulatory authority occupied three floors of a grey stone building in the financial district.From the street, it showed clean, unornamented windows that matched every other corporate facade on the block.Inside, the air was cool and functional, carrying the quiet rhythm of an institution that moved entirely at its own pace.Marcus Hale met them near the security barrier.He was a slightly built man in his fifties, wearing a sharp charcoal suit and the patient, observant expression of a career investigator.He shook Caiden’s hand, then Nadia’s, his eyes lingering on her for a brief, professional second."Thank you for coming in on short notice," Hale said, gesturing toward the elevators. "Please follow me."He led them to a second-floor conference room.The space held a plain rectangular table, four chairs, and a window overlooking a concrete internal courtyard.A single manila folder sat in the exact center of the table.Hale took his seat across from them but left the folder cl

June arrived at the estate without fanfare, the long light holding past eight o'clock and turning the bedroom floor a deep amber by the time Nadia came upstairs each evening.She came downstairs on the third Thursday of the month to the aroma of sizzled butter and fresh coffee.In the kitchen, Caiden stood at the stove, a wooden spatula in hand, carefully folding eggs in a skillet.Nadia stopped at the edge of the island, her arm resting against the cool marble."Did Mrs. Park call in sick?""No," Caiden said, not looking up from the pan. "Sit down."She pulled out a chair at the small breakfast table."Since when do you cook?""My father used to make breakfast on Sundays," he said, turning off the burner.He plated the eggs with precision, adding two slices of dry toast beside them."After he died, making coffee felt like a chore I couldn't handle. So I taught myself to cook instead."He set the plate in front of her, then sat across from her with his own.Nadia picked up her fork, l

Leo updated his private log for the eighteenth time on a Friday evening in June.The file was not an official record or an operational report. It was a sparse document, created six years ago after a tense board meeting, meant for the kind of information that was true, significant, and entirely outside his job description.Tonight's entry was brief.The patent documentation was placed in the library on the shelf below H.W.'s photograph. N placed it there this morning. C has not moved it. C made breakfast this morning for the first time in eight years. The regulatory matter is formally closed. C filed the applications himself. He listed H.J.W. first.He paused, then added two more sentences.Roland's solicitor called N today. She told him no. She told C at dinner. He listened, asked one question, and she answered it. Then they ate.Leo closed the document.In eight years working for Caiden Wolfe, almost every entry had been about one man: his decisions, his silences, his rigid patterns.

Her mother stayed until four.By mid-afternoon, the house was alive with an unexpected debate coming from the sitting room.Cullen and her mother were seated across from each other, deep in a discussion about small-business overhead versus macroeconomic theory.Cullen brought up concepts he’d been picking up from Caiden over the past few months, while her mother countered with thirty years of real-world experience managing a local practice.They argued over three separate points, agreed on two, and seemed entirely energized by the debate.Caiden moved quietly between the study and the sitting room throughout the day, stepping in just enough to be present without overwhelming the space.At lunch, he asked her mother two simple, grounded questions about her town in the north, listening intently to every word.Before leaving, her mother spent twenty minutes alone in the library.Nadia found her standing near the lower shelf, staring at the silver frame."He has his father's eyes," her mo