Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 21 - Chapitre 30

"Put that down, you dirty little liar!"Genevieve lunged off the edge of the marble tub, her fingers curling into claws aimed straight at Sienna’s face.Alec moved before she could close the distance. His large hand clamped around Genevieve’s wrist like an iron band, halting her dead in her tracks. He did not twist it violently, but his grip was unyielding as he forced her arm down toward the counter. "Step back, Genevieve," Alec said. His voice was quiet, but it was heavy with a cold, hollow weight. "Alec, she planted that jar!" Genevieve sobbed, tears cutting through the messy mascara on her cheeks. She tried to twist her arm out of his hand, but she could not budge an inch. "She brought it up from Sector Four! She wants you to hate me! Look at me, Alec. I was supposed to be your wife. We were supposed to build this family together, and you are letting this beggar humiliate me!"Alec did not shout. He looked down at her face, his dark eyes shadowed by deep, bitter exhaustion. For

"Hold the harbor tugs on the Sector Four perimeter," Alec commanded into the console before cutting the line with a sharp tap of his thumb. "If Mayor Richard puts a single excavator into the church soil, file the federal injunction and ram their barges back into the channel."He stepped out of the black SUV at the main portico, tossing the keys to the waiting valet. Behind him, Sienna climbed down slowly, the heavy chill of the night air making her chest tighten with a dry, familiar ache. "The church is secure until morning," Alec said, his voice low as his hand found the small of her back, guiding her through the front doors. "Richard knows better than to breach a federal stay in the dark. Go to sleep."By the following evening, the storm had completely cleared, leaving behind a cold, quiet fog rolling off the cliffs. Despite the humiliating exposure of Genevieve’s fake miscarriage the night before, Eleanor Sterling had canceled nothing. The bi-weekly Sunday family dinner was an i

"You need to take smaller steps, Sienna," Sister Agnes’s gentle voice seemed to echo in the quiet corners of her mind as the pale gravel crunched under her flat shoes. The Monday afternoon sun hung high and bright over the southern bluff of the island, warming the white stone balustrades of the lower gardens. A salty breeze drifted up from the black rocks below, carrying the sweet, heavy scent of blooming tea roses mixed with damp earth and sea foam. Sienna pulled her thin cream cardigan tighter across her chest. Her lungs felt heavy, hot, and stubbornly tight. Ever since the chemical explosion in Sector Four, breathing had never truly returned to normal. Every deep breath tasted faintly of cold metal, and the humid coastal air pressed against her ribs like an iron band. After the toxic dinner the night before and Genevieve's screaming fit across the table, the high ceilings and quiet corridors

Three minutes felt like three lifetimes. Sienna sat on the edge of the large marble bathtub, her hands pressed tightly between her knees to stop them from shaking.  Through the frosted bathroom window, the morning sun was just burning through the coastal fog, casting pale gray light across the polished white tiles. Outside in the bedroom, the muffled, deep rumble of Alec’s voice drifted through the wood as he concluded his morning briefing with the harbor syndicate. On the marble counter beside the sink, the thin white plastic stick lay faceup on a clean linen towel. Sienna’s heart was hammering against her ribs with terrifying speed.  *If it is negative, the contract continues.*  She would remain the quiet wife, waiting in the vast empty halls of the south villa until the obligation was fulfilled. But if it was positive... 

"Get dressed," Alec said, his voice quiet and even as he stepped away from the wall panel. "Wear something warm. The south wing has a draft from the water." Sienna nodded. Her fingers still shook slightly from the shock of the morning, but she pulled on the long navy wool dress Eleanor had sent down for her. When they entered the drawing room, the room was quiet.  A low fire burned in the stone hearth. Eleanor sat upright in her high-backed chair, her hands folded neatly over her lap. Her posture was straight, elegant, and controlled, showing nothing of what she was thinking.  Julian stood near the fireplace. His suit was tidy, but his face looked tired. Beside him stood Genevieve, wearing a tailored cream coat over a soft dress. She held a sealed document from the city registrar, her fingers gripping the paper tightly. Arthur Vance, the family attorney, stood by the si