Todos los capítulos de My Abusive Ex Watched Me Marry His Stepbrother: Capítulo 91 - Capítulo 100

He spent the next hour teaching me how to break grips, how to create distance, how to use an attacker's momentum against them. Every technique required his hands on my body, adjusting, guiding, positioning me with a gentleness that contradicted the violent purpose of what he was teaching.When he showed me how to escape a wrist grab, he took my wrist in his hand and held it firmly. Not hard. Not like Maxton. Just enough pressure to simulate a threat while his thumb traced absent circles against my pulse point."Twist toward the thumb," Kyle instructed, his voice low and patient. "The thumb is always the weak point. Rotate your wrist and pull sharply."I twisted. His grip broke. He smiled, and the expression transformed his entire face into something warm and proud and devastatingly handsome."Again," he ordered. "Faster this time."We drilled the same technique until I could break his grip in less than a second. Then he moved to choke escapes, standing behind me with his arm loosely a

The sound made my skin crawl. I pressed my hands over my ears and closed my eyes, trying to block out the voices of strangers who wanted me erased from a life I never asked to be part of.Kyle appeared in the doorway. "Stay away from the windows.""Why?""Because there are cameras down there, and the last thing we need is a photograph of you looking scared.""I'm not scared." The lie tasted familiar. "I'm tired.""Lara." His voice softened. "Stay away from the windows."Then his phone rang. He answered, listened for ten seconds, and his entire body went rigid."Turn on the television," Kyle told me, his voice carrying a flatness that I recognized as the calm before his worst storms.I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Every major news channel was broadcasting the same image.Maxton stood in front of our building with dozens of cameras pointed at his face. His hair was combed, his clothes were clean, and his expression carried the rehearsed vulnerability that had fooled millions

"I won't hit him." The words felt like swallowing glass, but I said them because she asked and because refusing her had become something I could no longer do without feeling like I was cutting off my own oxygen.The elevator carried me down thirty floors in silence. Each number that ticked past on the display felt like a countdown to something I had been building toward for months. Not just the confrontation with Maxton. Something bigger. Something that had been growing inside me since the night I found Lara's bruises in my office and felt the ghost of Sofia's hand in mine.The lobby doors opened, and the noise hit me like a physical wall.The crowd was massive. Easily two hundred people packed onto the sidewalk and spilling into the street, blocking traffic, holding signs that ranged from "Free Lara From Kyle" to "Justice For Maxton" to "Gold Diggers Deserve Nothing." Camera crews from four different news stations had their equipment set up along the curb, broadcasting live to millio

Maxton was using the miscarriage as a weapon. Using the death of a child he never wanted, that he celebrated losing, as ammunition to win the sympathy of strangers who would never know the truth.Something inside my chest snapped. Not the careful, controlled breaking I had learned to manage over years of boardroom warfare. This was hotter, rawer, the kind of breaking that happens when a man watches someone desecrate something sacred and can no longer stand still."You want to talk about the pregnancy on camera, Maxton?" My voice came out quiet, but every microphone within twenty feet picked it up. "You really want to go there?"Something flickered in Maxton's expression. A tiny crack in the confident surface."Because the last time I checked," I continued, stepping closer, letting the cameras capture every word, "you were the one who beat Lara until she lost that baby. You were the one who celebrated her miscarriage on the phone while she bled alone on a bathroom floor. And you were t

The "please" did it. Kyle Morrison did not say please. Not in board meetings, not in negotiations, not in any context where power was being exchanged between two people. That word coming from his mouth was so foreign that it pulled my face from the pillow out of pure shock.He was standing at the foot of my bed, his suit jacket removed, his shirt slightly untucked, his hair disheveled from running his hands through it the way he did when he was trying to process something too big for logic. His dark eyes were soft in a way I had never seen them, the ice melted, the calculation gone, replaced by something human and hurting and genuinely sorry."I'm sorry," Kyle murmured, and the words carried a weight that I felt in my bones. "What he did down there, what he told about you on camera, that was something I should have stopped before it happened.""You couldn't have stopped him.""I could have walked away sooner. I could have refused to engage. Every second I stood on that sidewalk giving