Alle Kapitel von He Lost His Wife Before He Knew She Was Pregnant : Kapitel 11 – Kapitel 20

The Kitchen After Close Virelle’s POVThe first night I baked in that kitchen, I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I just needed something to do with my hands that wasn’t doing math in a notebook or refreshing a court docket that never seemed to change fast enough to give me an answer. Baking was simple. Flour, sugar, butter, heat. Things that behaved the way they were supposed to when I did everything right.I waited until the diner closed and Ezra had gone upstairs, and I let myself in through the back with the spare key he’d handed me weeks ago without much ceremony, like it wasn’t a big deal, like trusting a stranger with a key to his father’s diner was just something people did.I made a batch of cinnamon rolls first, from memory, an old recipe I hadn’t touched since before Kael, since before Ravenscourt, since I was a different woman entirely who still believed in things like patience paying off.They came out wrong. Too dense. I ate one anyway, standing over the counter at

Six Weeks Virelle’s POVDesmond spread the papers across his desk like he was laying out a battlefield, which, I supposed, was exactly what it was.“Six weeks,” he said. “That’s what we’re working with now. Two paths from here, and I need you to understand both of them clearly before you decide anything.”“Okay.”“Path one. You respond formally. You appear in court. That means using your real name, your real location gets entered into the record whether you want it there or not, and once that happens, there’s no putting it back. Kael knows where you are. Ravenscourt knows where you are. Every part of the life you ran from gets a straight line back to you.”I felt my stomach twist. “And path two?”“Path two, you stay hidden. You don’t respond, don’t appear, and you gamble that we can either run out the clock on their service window or that something changes before the hearing. But if we’re wrong, if they manage to serve you or convince the judge sufficient effort was made, the court

The Smallest Fight Virelle’s POVThey wheeled me down a hallway I didn’t remember agreeing to go down, my heart slamming so hard against my ribs I thought it might crack them.“Is he okay?” I kept asking, grabbing at sleeves, at rails, at anything solid. “Please, just tell me if he’s okay.”“He’s stable right now,” the nurse said, not slowing down. “His oxygen dropped for a moment during the transfer to the NICU. The team’s got him. I just need you close by.”Close by turned out to be a chair pressed against a wall of glass, looking into a room full of machines and wires and the smallest human being I had ever seen in my life, lying under a warming light with tubes taped gently across his tiny face. I put my hand flat against the glass.“Lucien,” I whispered, the name slipping out of me before I’d even decided to say it out loud, no ceremony, no perfect moment, just me standing in a hospital hallway crying so hard I could barely see him clearly. “That’s your name. Lucien. I’m not wai

Lawyers, Not Love Virelle’s POVI was in the chair outside the NICU window when the man in the gray suit found me. I didn’t see him as a threat at first. Hospitals were full of men in suits, doctors’ husbands, insurance reps, chaplains who dressed too formally for a place that smelled like antiseptic and fear. He walked with a clipboard and an envelope, and he checked a name off a list before he even looked at my face.“Virelle Hartwell?”My whole body went still.“I’m Daniel Ruiz,” he said, not unkindly, just efficient, a man doing a job he’d done a hundred times before. “I’m a process server. I need to hand you this in person and confirm you’ve received it.”“I’m not…” I started, the old instinct rising fast, the lie ready on my tongue.“Ma’am, the hospital’s already confirmed your identity through the admission paperwork. I just need you to take this.”He held out the envelope. My hands were shaking so badly it took me two tries to grab it.“You’ve been served,” he said. “Have a g

Franklin's POVI called Vivian Cross myself, rather than send an assistant, because some conversations required a voice that couldn't be ignored or delegated."Mr. Hartwell," she said when she picked up, careful in the way people got careful around me once they understood exactly how much of their firm's revenue depended on my family's business. "I assume you're calling about Kael's instructions.""I am.""He was clear, sir. He wants the aggressive strategy paused. Immediately.""My son," I said, settling into the chair behind my desk, "is a grown man having an attack of conscience at the worst possible moment. I understand it. I even respect it, in a sentimental sort of way. But sentiment doesn't win custody cases, Vivian, and it certainly doesn't protect a company's succession interests.""With respect, he's my client.""He's your client," I agreed. "And Hartwell Group is your firm's single largest account. I'd hate for anyone to lose sight of how those two facts relate to each othe