Todos los capítulos de My Abusive Ex Watched Me Marry His Stepbrother: Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

(Kyle’s POV)I told myself it was just pictures. Just a strategic move to counter Maxton’s disgusting performance on live television. Just two adults positioning their bodies for a camera to produce images that would make the world believe what I was still too afraid to say out loud.That lie lasted about ninety seconds.The moment Lara pressed her body against mine under those white sheets, the moment her skin touched my skin and her breath warmed the hollow of my throat, every rational thought in my head evaporated like water on a hot stove.Diane was giving directions from behind the camera, but I stopped hearing her somewhere around the third photograph. My hands were moving on their own, tracing lines across Lara’s shoulder, down her arm, across the curve of her waist where the silk slip rode up enough to reveal the warm skin of her hip.She was so beautiful in that light. The golden glow turned her skin into something luminous, something that looked like it had been painted by a

(Lara’s POV)I woke up sore in places I did not want to think about too carefully.The afternoon sunlight poured through the bedroom windows in thick golden streams, telling me I had slept through most of the day. My body felt heavy and warm, like something that had been thoroughly used and was still recovering from the experience.Kyle was not beside me. The sheets on his side were cold, which meant he had been gone for hours. His pillow still carried the faint indent of his head and the lingering scent of his cologne, and I buried my face in it before I could stop myself, breathing him in like an addict taking one more hit before pretending she was clean.This was becoming a problem.Every time we ended up in bed together, I told myself it was the last time. A mistake. An accident. Two bodies responding to proximity and tension and the particular chemistry that existed between a woman who was starving for gentleness and a man who touched her like she was the first beautiful thing he

(Maxton's POV)The pictures were everywhere.I sat in my apartment scrolling through my phone with hands that shook so badly I could barely hold the screen steady. Every news site, every gossip blog, every social media platform was running the same photographs of Lara and Kyle in bed together, tangled in white sheets, her head on his chest, his arms around her body, their mouths pressed together with a hunger that was not staged or rehearsed or manufactured for cameras.That was real. I knew what Lara looked like when she was faking it. I spent months watching her force smiles for neighbors and produce laughter for my friends and perform affection for anyone who was watching because she knew what would happen if she did not.This was not performance. The way she looked at Kyle in those photographs, the way her body curved into his like she was trying to melt into him, the way her fingers gripped his skin like he was the only solid thing in a world that kept collapsing underneath her,

(Lara's POV)Everything happened so fast that my brain could not keep up with my eyes.One second Maxton was screaming in the lobby with security holding his arms. The next second he was free, charging through the elevator doors like a wild animal that had broken its chain, his face twisted with a rage so consuming it barely looked human anymore.He reached Kyle before anyone could stop him.The first punch connected with Kyle's jaw, snapping his head sideways, and the sound of fist meeting bone echoed through the penthouse foyer like a gunshot. Kyle stumbled back one step, two steps, then caught his balance and swung back with a precision that told me he had been waiting for this moment for a very long time.His fist connected with Maxton's ribs, and Maxton doubled over with a grunt that sprayed spit across the marble floor. Kyle followed with an uppercut that caught Maxton under the chin and sent him crashing backward into the hallway console table, shattering the decorative vase th

(Lara's POV)The police took Maxton away in handcuffs, his face so swollen and bloody that the officers handling him kept exchanging glances like they were not sure whether to arrest him or call another ambulance. He was screaming the entire time, incoherent words that bounced off the lobby walls and traveled up through the elevator shaft until they reached me sitting on the couch thirty floors above, wrapped in a blanket that smelled like Kyle's cologne and stained with his blood.Paramedics arrived within minutes. Two of them went down to deal with Maxton while another team came up to the penthouse to treat Kyle's hand, which was still bleeding through the makeshift bandage he had torn from his own shirt.I watched from the couch as the paramedic examined the wound, pulling back the soaked fabric to reveal a deep, ugly slash that ran from the base of Kyle's thumb across his palm to the edge of his pinky finger. The cut was deep enough that I could see layers of tissue underneath the