Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 101 - Chapitre 110

Liam Montgomery was many things. Intelligent. Composed. Infuriatingly confident. And, apparently, terrible at pretending he wasn’t jealous. I discovered the last one approximately thirty seconds after he read Finn Wilson’s message on my phone. He hadn’t meant to look. At least, I didn’t think he had. I was standing in the penthouse foyer, still staring at the old photograph Finn had sent me, when Liam approached from behind and softly asked what was wrong. I turned the glowing screen toward him. His dark eyes moved over the picture first—taking in the twenty-year-old version of me laughing beneath the trees with Finn's arm wrapped around my shoulders. Then his gaze dropped to the text message printed beneath it: > You were always supposed to be mine, Abby. > The shift in Liam's posture was subtle, but terrifyingly unmistakable. His sharp jaw locked tight. The warm, tender light completely vanished from his dark eyes, replaced by an arctic, lethal chill. At his side, his l

The quiet after the Bennett Foundation gala didn't last long. While Liam and I were finding our footing again in the penthouse, the ripples of Finn Wilson’s sudden re-emergence were crashing through the lives of those around him. “Are you seriously going to keep doing this, Finn?” Stella Bennett’s voice was laced with sharp, exhausted irritation as she stared out the passenger window of Finn’s car. Finn kept his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the rain-slicked London streets. “Doing what?” Stella let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. “Don’t insult my intelligence. Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Finn’s knuckles turned white. They had been driving for nearly fifteen minutes since leaving the hotel, enveloped in a suffocating silence. He had hoped she would let the evening end without another confrontation. He had hoped for too much. “You spent the entire gala watching Abigail,” Stella continued, turning toward him. “Then you fo

Liam was waiting for me when I stepped into the penthouse that evening. He stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, his tailored suit jacket draped casually over one arm as he reviewed something on his phone. The exact second he heard my heels click against the marble foyer, he slipped the device into his pocket and turned to face me. “How was your afternoon at the office, Abby?” he asked, his deep voice instantly grounding my senses. “Productive,” I replied, stepping out of my heels. “Julian brought the revised structural plans, offered a sincere apology for his sister's outburst, and shared a few more historical details regarding Finn.” Liam’s sharp jaw subtly tightened at the mention of the name. “More details?” I walked into the living room, smoothing down my skirt. “Apparently, Finn spent years actively searching for news about my whereabouts after I vanished. Stella lived through every single day of that search.” Liam remained motionless, analyzing my fa

Liam was in the living room when I arrived home.His tie had been loosened, and his laptop rested open on the coffee table. He looked up when I entered, his gaze moving briefly over my face.“Hey, Abby.”“Hey.”He closed his laptop.“Long day?”“A little.”He studied me for another moment, but he didn’t ask where I’d been or why I looked distracted.That was something I was beginning to appreciate about him. He could be curious without making his curiosity feel like a demand.I put my bag down and sat beside him.“I saw Finn.”Liam’s expression grew still.“Today?”“Outside the foundation building.”He nodded once. “All right.”I turned toward him.“That’s all you’re going to say?”“What would you like me to say?”“I don’t know. Something.”A faint smile touched his mouth.“Do you want me to ask what he said?”“Maybe.”“Then what did he say?”I leaned back against the sofa.“He apologized. He admitted that he made me feel as though I wasn’t enough. He said he had tried to find me afte

The first thing I learned about being a mother was that mornings could be surprisingly cruel. Not because Charlotte was difficult. She wasn’t. The problem was that everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing, while I stood in the middle of her bedroom holding a hairbrush like it was a foreign object. “Mommy, that’s not the one.” I looked down at the brush in my hand, then at the three others scattered across Charlotte’s dressing table. “Then which one is it, sweetheart?” “The purple one.” I picked up the purple brush. Charlotte shook her head. “Not that purple one. The other purple one.” I stared at the brushes. There were two purple brushes. Of course there were. “Right,” I murmured. “The other purple one.” From the doorway, Liam made a suspicious sound that might have been a cough if I were feeling generous. I turned my head slowly. “Are you laughing at me?” “Not at all.” “Your face says otherwise.” “My face is innocent.” “Your face is a terrible l