Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

I woke up with a vicious, black mood already clawing at the edges of my mind. The sunlight filtering through the bedroom curtains looked too bright, almost offensive, and the simple weight of the duvet over my legs felt suffocating. A sharp, angry cramp twisted deep in my lower abdomen, sending a hot spike of physical irritation straight through my chest. "Ugh, unbelievable," I muttered to the empty room, squeezing my eyes shut as I rolled over. Nothing felt right. My body ached, my patience was entirely gone, and the hormonal mood swings were already making me want to rip the wallpaper off the walls. After changing into loose joggers and a thick sweater, the pain flared up again—a stubborn cramp that made my knees weak. I needed a heating pad, but my private stash was downstairs, and the mere thought of walking made me want to scream. By the time I marched down the hallway toward the private elevator, my temper was boiling over. When the elevator chimed on

The rich smell of garlic and simmering tomatoes drifted out from the kitchen, wrapping around the open-concept living space before I even had time to fully settle onto the sofa. I pulled the small thermal printout from my jacket pocket, smoothing out the crumpled edge with my thumb. The blurry gray image on the paper still looked abstract, but knowing there was an actual heartbeat behind those vague lines changed how it felt in my hand. It wasn't a corporate asset, a legal document, or a hostile share certificate. It was just life—quiet, stubborn, and completely beyond my control. Footsteps echoed softly across the hardwood floor as Ares walked in carrying two ceramic bowls of pasta. He set them down on the low coffee table before taking a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, keeping a respectful, comfortable distance between us. "Smells edible," I remarked, picking up my fork and twirling a few strands of pasta. "Edible is a harsh word for a masterclass in Ital

The clock on the wall hit seven in the evening, and the corporate tower had finally gone quiet. Most of the executive staff had already cleared out for the night, leaving behind a deep, peaceful stillness across the entire floor. I sat at my desk, rubbing my tired eyes as I scrolled through the final export manifests for the European shipping routes. The digital ink was barely dry on the international logistics agreement, but my brain was already running on empty. A soft knock rattled against my open office door. I looked up to see Ares standing in the doorway. He had already discarded his suit jacket, his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar with the sleeves rolled neatly up to his forearms, exposing the strong lines of his arms. He didn't look like a high-powered CEO wrapping up a grueling sixteen-hour workday; he looked entirely unbothered, carrying two takeout bags that smelled aggressively of garlic and hot spices. "You're still here," I obse

The heavy glass doors of the downtown restaurant closed behind us with a soft, muffled click, cutting off the low murmur of background music and leaving us standing in the crisp, cool air of the evening. The city lights were flickering to life across the sprawling skyline, painting the dark streets in warm amber and silver tones. We walked side-by-side toward the parked vehicle, the quiet, steady rhythm of our footsteps the only sound between us, each of us lost in our own thoughts after a long, demanding day of maneuvering through the city. Ares unlocked the black SUV with a quiet beep of his remote, pulling open the passenger door for me before I even reached it. I slid into the leather seat, letting out a soft, involuntary sigh as the interior warmth enveloped me, chasing away the autumn chill that had settled into my bones. Once Ares walked around, climbed in behind the wheel, and started the engine, the vehicle glided away from the curb and merged

The clock on the wall struck half past midnight, but I was still sitting at the desk in the estate study. The room was almost entirely dark, illuminated only by the harsh, cool glare of my laptop screen. The corporate war was officially over. Damon was defeated, the shipping merger was cleared, and Vane Corp had posted its highest quarterly projections in three years. On paper, everything was secure. Yet, my fingers hovered over the keyboard as I scrolled through another set of secondary risk assessments for the fifth time in an hour. Peace felt like a trap. Every time my life had quieted down in the past, a fresh betrayal had followed immediately after. I couldn't stop looking for the hidden flaw in the contracts or the loophole our legal team might have missed. A dull, throbbing ache flared across my lower back, sending a wave of deep fatigue straight up my spine. My shoulders felt heavy, my eyes burning from hours of staring at fine print. I let out a long,