RECLAIMING MY LIFE FROM THE UNTOUCHABLE CEO のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Hazel’s POV “You started planning our wedding without telling me?” I asked, half laughing, half genuinely stunned, as Julian pulled out a folder thick with venue photographs and catering menus. “In my defense,” he said, “I’ve had a lot of free time since I stepped down from a company that used to consume every waking hour of my life.” We were sitting on the floor of our apartment, the wedding folder spread out between us like a strange, hopeful mess, and I found myself laughing harder than I had in weeks, some tight knot in my chest finally loosening after the intensity of the past several weeks. “This one,” I said, tapping a photograph of a small botanical garden near the river, sunlight filtering through greenhouse glass onto rows of flowering plants. “It’s not too big. Not too formal. It feels like us.” “I circled that one three times,” Julian admitted, sliding the photo closer. “I was hoping you’d pick it before I had to admit how much I already loved it.” “You’re allow

Hazel’s POV“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Adrian said, adjusting his tie in the mirror of the garden’s small dressing room, grinning at me with the particular delight of someone who’d waited a long time to say that sentence.“I might,” I admitted, smoothing down the front of my dress for what felt like the hundredth time. “This is so much more terrifying than the first wedding.”“Because the first one didn’t actually mean anything to either of you,” Adrian said, gentler now. “This one does. That’s why it’s terrifying. It’s supposed to be.”I studied myself in the mirror, the dress simpler than the elaborate gown I’d worn five years earlier, something I’d chosen specifically because it allowed for full movement, for the possibility of dancing later if my body decided it wanted to. My hair was pulled back the way it used to be for performances, and for a moment I could see, superimposed over my reflection, the ghost of the ballerina I used to be standing right alongside the

Hazel’s POV“Happy anniversary,” Julian said, exactly one year later, his voice soft against my ear as morning light spilled across our bedroom.I turned in his arms, still half asleep, and found him already watching me the way he did most mornings now, unguarded, wondering, like he still couldn’t quite believe I stayed.“No gold watch this year either?” I teased, remembering the ritual that used to define our entire relationship, five identical boxes over five identical, hollow years.“Never again,” Julian said. “Though I do have something for you. Downstairs.”We made our way down to the foundation’s theater, quiet and empty this early in the morning, sunlight pouring gold across the stage where, exactly one year ago, six dancers had proven something the world had tried for years to deny. In the center of the stage sat the rose gold slippers, freshly polished, resting beside a simple, handwritten note.I picked it up, recognizing Julian’s careful handwriting, so different now from t

Hazel's POV “Someone is buying up shares of your old company under a shell name,” Julian's former CFO said over the phone, “and I think you need to see exactly who's behind it before the board finds out first.” Julian had been calm for a full year. I had watched calm become his default setting instead of his mask, watched him trade boardrooms for grant meetings without once looking back. So when I saw his shoulders lock up mid call, phone pressed hard against his ear, I knew whatever Marcus was telling him wasn't ordinary business. “Say that name again,” Julian said, his voice gone flat in a way I hadn't heard since before London. He listened for a long moment, then closed his eyes, and I watched an old exhaustion settle back over his face, the particular weariness of a man who thought he had finally closed a door only to find it wedged open the entire time. “It's my father,” Julian said, setting the phone down. “He's been quietly buying back into the company for months.” “

Hazel's POV“It wasn't me who leaked it,” Marisol said, wheeling straight into our living room without knocking, “but I think I know exactly who did, and you're not going to like it.”I had spent the entire morning convincing myself I'd imagined the suspicion, that grief and fear were making me paranoid about the one friend who had never once given me a reason to doubt her. Seeing her face now, furious and apologetic at once, told me my instincts hadn't been wrong.“Tell me,” I said. “Whoever it is.”“The pharmacy clerk,” Marisol said. “She recognized you buying the test. She's dating someone on Penelope's old legal team. It's not personal, Hazel, it's just money changing hands in the ugliest possible way.”Relief loosened something in my chest, the specific relief of learning betrayal hadn't come from someone I trusted, even as fresh anger took its place, anger at a world still willing to sell our most private moments to the highest bidder while Penelope rotted safely behind bars, st