Todos os capítulos de His Contract Wife's Secret Twins : Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

Zahara's POVI stared down at the letter in Fiona's trembling hands. My eyes struggling to focus on the words she had pointed toward. And I felt a strange, disorienting confusion settled over the fear already gripping my chest."That is not a name," I said slowly. Reading the line again to be certain."Fiona, that is a description, not a name."Fiona blinked.Some of the urgency in her expression softened into a kind of tired clarity.As though she had been so caught up in the weight of finally breaking the letter's seal; that she had misread her own friend's careful handwriting in the rush of the moment."You are right," she said quietly. Pressing her fingers gently against her temple."Forgive me. My mind is not as sharp as it once was, especially at this hour, after everything my body has endured these past weeks."I took the letter carefully from her hands. My own fingers unsteady as I held the fragile paper closer to the lamplight. And I slowly read the passage properly this time

Zahara's POVI read the message three times. Before my hands finally steadied enough to set the phone down properly.The three words sitting heavier each time I looked at them.He knows about Wolfson.I did not know who had sent it. Only that whoever it was seemed to be watching this exact night unfold in real time. Surely aware of the letter, aware of the name I had only just uncovered myself. The message was close enough to my private world that it felt less like a warning from a stranger. And more like a whisper from someone standing just outside the door.I forced myself back to the letter. Unwilling to let fear stop me from finishing what my mother had clearly intended for me to eventually read in full.I unfolded it again at the desk. Smoothing the creased paper flat beneath the lamp. And found the passage continuing just below where I had stopped. But now my mother's handwriting grows slightly smaller near the bottom of the page, as though she had been running out of both space

Armando's POVI had never said the words aloud before. Not fully. And not with the particular certainty I heard in my own voice now, standing in my study with my parents' letter and hers both spread across the same desk. Two decades of separate grief suddenly tangled together in a single, undeniable shape."I do not know for certain," Zahara said quietly."But Armando, I think it is time we stopped trying to answer that question separately."I studied her for a long moment. Weighing the strange, unfamiliar relief of finally saying something out loud that I had carried silently for most of my life.And found myself, despite every instinct built from years of guarding my own vulnerabilities—wanting to tell her the rest of it. All of it, the parts I had never spoken to anyone."Sit down," I said. My voice landed out in a small monotone."If we are doing this honestly. Then I think I should start from the beginning."She settled into the chair across from my desk. And I poured two glasses

Marcus Kane's POVI did not sleep after the call ended. I sat alone in my study. My phone still warm from the conversation. And I allowed myself exactly three minutes to consider walking away from everything I had built with Desmond Voss over the past decade before I dismissed the thought entirely. The way I always did.And I reached instead for my second phone I kept locked in the bottom drawer of my desk. The one no one at Ivas Holdings knew existed.Armando trusted me. That trust had taken years to cultivate. Careful and deliberate. Built on one small reliable act at a time until I had become in his estimation, the kind of man whose judgment required no second guessing.I understood the value of that trust better than he did. It was the single most useful asset Voss had ever acquired inside his company. More valuable than any contract or acquisition. And I had spent ten years protecting it with the same discipline I applied to every legal filing that crossed my desk.I arrived at t

Zahara's POVI stared at the handwriting beneath Thomas's number for a long moment. The two words settling into me with a coldness that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.Call this number.Not his own line, but someone else's. Someone Thomas apparently believed I needed to speak with directly. Though he had said nothing about it while sitting across from me only minutes earlier.I did not call it. Every careful instinct I had built over five years told me that dialing an unknown number handed to me under circumstances this suspicious was precisely the kind of mistake that ended badly for people far more experienced at protecting themselves than I currently felt.Instead I returned to the sitting room window and watched Thomas's car disappear through the gates.My earlier caution hardened into something closer to certainty. Whatever genuine remorse he had performed for me only moments ago—the card in my hand told a different story.One where his warning had never been