Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 61 - Chapitre 70

Suzan’s POVBy the time Emerald was cleared for discharge, the hospital had begun to settle into its quiet evening rhythm. The corridors grew still, the chaotic rush of the afternoon fading into the muted hum of monitors and the muffled, rhythmic footsteps of nurses moving between rooms.I stood near the doorway while Sarah gathered the last of Emerald’s things. My daughter was dressed in her cozy sweater and little denim pants, her soft curls slightly tousled after a long day in the hospital bed. She looked exhausted, but a bright, radiant smile lit up her face.Mostly because Draven was still there.He had stayed far longer than necessary, long enough for her to fall asleep with her tiny hand tightly curled around his finger.Now, as we prepared to leave, I watched him gently help her into her little jacket."You're missing something," he murmured softly.Emerald looked down at her chest. "What?"He reached out, his long fingers gently pulling the zipper all the way up to her chin.

63Suzan’s POVEric, Edward, and I stepped into the dim, wood-paneled quiet of the study while Sarah took Emerald upstairs to sleep.Ugh. I exhaled deeply, my gaze darting between Eric and Edward as they stood opposite me.A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the room. For a few agonizing minutes, nobody spoke, each of us silently contemplating who should take the floor first. Eric leaned casually against the side of a leather armchair, his white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar. Edward’s face remained entirely unreadable, his arms crossed over his chest.I swallowed hard, clearing my throat softly. The unsaid words hanging in the air felt like they were physically choking me.I tried so hard to focus purely on the corporate threat, on the fact that a ghost from my past was digging into my private life back in Maine. But my own traitorous body completely betrayed me. A sudden, overwhelming tide of raw, visceral awareness swept through me, and the mixed signals ins

Draven’s POVI stared at the screen long after the secure call ended.Eric Northman.I’d heard the name before. A successful, sharp-minded fintech CEO based out of Maine. Young enough to have established his reputation with ruthless efficiency despite being from a wealthy root, the Northmans.He is the girlies guy, according to a handful of financial journals.None of that mattered to me.I set the phone down on the cold quartz counter. Then, for reasons I refused to examine, I picked it up again.The security strategist's final words were still echoing in my head.He hasn't left the building.I locked the phone with a sharp click. Of course he hadn't.I poured myself a glass of water, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows to look out over the glittering grid of Manhattan.Five years. Suzan had spent five full years in Maine. Long enough to build a flourishing firm. Long enough to raise Emerald from a newborn into a fierce, brilliant child. Long enough to surround herself with

Suzan’s POVI woke before sunrise.Not because I had slept well. I hadn't.My mind had spent most of the night taking everything that had transpired, the ominous text, which was undoubtedly another threat, the invisible eyes watching my apartment, Eric’s lingering presence, Maine, Draven’s furious voice over the encrypted line, and the endless maze of the Sterling investigation, and arranging it all into increasingly frightening possibilities.And then there was Draven, the lingering tension and unsaid words.By four-thirty, I gave up on the illusion of sleep entirely.I slipped out from under the duvet, pulled a thick, oversized sweater over my lounge pants, and padded quietly into the kitchen.The apartment was utterly still. For once, the chaotic roar of Manhattan felt miles away, no blaring traffic horns, no phones buzzing on glass counters, no heavy footsteps in the corridor. There was only the low, ambient hum of the refrigerator and the quiet, steady hiss of the espresso machi

Suzan’s POV Draven stepped out of the elevator, looking immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit despite the early hour. His steel-gray eyes swept across the room with sharp precision before settling on me, and then immediately locking onto Eric, who was seated by my left side.There was a brief, fraught pause. A faint furrow appeared between Draven's brows, the only physical crack in his formidable composure. In a flash, I remembered his text message from midnight, the one practically radiating possessive jealousy. A soft, unnoticeable smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.With the flawless precision only someone who knew him deeply could spot, he masked his reaction almost instantly.Eric, to his credit, didn't let the moment drag into awkwardness. He stood smoothly and extended his hand. “Eric Northman.”“Draven Sterling,” he replied. His voice was kept carefully measured, but I picked up on the thread of pure ice woven beneath his tone.“I know who you are,” Eric added with a pol