Alle Kapitel von 37 Times You Called My Name : Kapitel 101 – Kapitel 110

Mia POVThe invitations went out on a Thursday, and by Friday morning the first reply had already come back, tucked in with the regular mail like it belonged there.Ryder found it first. He was standing at the counter with his coffee when I came down, turning the envelope over in his hands like it might tell him something before he opened it."That was fast," I said."It's from the two on the list." He meant the agents, though he never called them that anymore, not really, not the way he used to. "They RSVP'd within a day.""Did they say yes?"He slid the card across the counter instead of answering, and I read it standing there in my socks with my coffee going cold. Two names, checked yes, and underneath in smaller handwriting, a line that read simply, wouldn't miss it for the world. Ryder didn't say anything, but he read it twice before he set it down, and something in his jaw eased in a way I recognized now, the particular relief of a man who used to carry other people's safety and

Mia POV The dress came home on a Tuesday, wrapped in paper my mother wouldn't let either of us touch. "Ryder especially," she said, carrying the box up the stairs herself like it might be stolen from her at any moment. "You don't get within ten feet of this hallway until the day itself." "I wasn't going to look." "You were absolutely going to look." He didn't argue, just held up both hands in surrender and went back to the kitchen table where he'd been sorting the newest round of cards. Four more had come in overnight, and by the time I came back down he had them lined up like he was building a hand of cards for a very slow, very patient game. "Three left," he said, sliding one across to me. "Your mother's tally is going to need a new page soon." I read it standing there, and it landed the same way they all did now, a small warm weight settling somewhere behind my ribs. Someone h

MIA POVI didn’t sleep.The apartment was too quiet, the kind of expensive silence that made every small sound feel deliberate. The sheets smelled like nothing—new, sterile, chosen by someone who had never asked what I preferred. Every time I closed my eyes I felt the cold wood of Ryder’s desk under my cheek, the pressure of his hand on my wrists, the way my own voice had broken on the number ten while my body betrayed me completely.I hated him for it. I hated myself more.At 2:17 a.m. my phone lit up again under the pillow. Same unknown number.*He’s not always going to be there to pay us off. Next time we want something better than old hallway footage. Live. Or we start with the hospital. Your mom looks fragile these days.*The words turned my blood to ice.I sat up so fast the room spun. For a long minute I just stared at the message, heart slamming against my ribs. Then I did the only thing that made sense in the middle of the night in a locked apartment two floors below the ma

MIA POV I woke before he did. Gray morning light filled the penthouse, soft and unforgiving. My head was still on Ryder’s shoulder, his arm heavy around me, the steady rhythm of his breathing the only sound in the vast quiet. For a few dangerous seconds I didn’t move. I simply catalogued the details—the warmth of him, the faint scent of his skin, the way my body had curled into his like it had been waiting years for permission. Then reality arrived all at once. I sat up carefully. His arm slipped away. He woke the second the contact broke, blue eyes opening sharp and clear, no trace of confusion. He had always woken like that—ready. “You stayed,” he said. Not an accusation. Not a victory. Just a fact. “I fell asleep.” “You stayed,” he repeated, quieter. I stood, needing distance, and walked to the wall of windows. The city looked different from this height, cleaner, more distant. “Nothing happened.” “I know.” He remained on the couch, watching me. “That’s why it matt

MIA POV The second threat against the hospital came at 11:48 p.m. I was still awake, curled on the couch in the dark apartment with only the city lights for company, when the phone vibrated against my palm. The message was short and cruel. *Private floor doesn’t mean private cameras. Wave to your mother for us. Or we can do it for you.* Attached was a grainy still image: the new security door outside Mom’s room, timestamped twenty minutes earlier. Someone had gotten close enough to take it. My hands went cold. I didn’t think. I just called him. Ryder answered on the first ring. “Mia.” “They have a photo of the new door. They’re still watching the hospital.” Silence for half a second—then the sound of movement, a door opening, footsteps. “Stay on the line. Don’t open your door for anyone but me.” He was in the apartment three minutes later. Barefoot,