6 Months As My Brother-in-law's Mistress のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

Chapter Twenty-OneAddie's POVMy mother used to say that a good liar doesn't invent a whole new world; they just tilt the real one about two inches to the left.Give them ninety percent of the truth. Give them the ugly, messy, humiliating parts that make your stomach turn inside out. Hand it to them on a silver platter so raw they feel sick just looking at it. Then, right when they think they've caught you with your pants down, you slip that remaining ten percent of calculated poison straight between their ribs.They never even see the blade coming.The door of Sebastian's Maybach clicked shut behind me, the engine a quiet, sinister purr that bled away into the empty city street. Two in the morning. The air outside was freezing, biting through my bare ankles, but my left side was burning. A dull, rhythmic throb that pulsed right in time with my heartbeat, pulling at the surgical thread holding my skin together.I didn't care about the pain. Honestly, the sting kept me awake. Kept me

Chapter Twenty-ThreeSebastian’s POVI was so tired. All I wanted was to get into my bed and pass out.I had an early meeting tomorrow, and on days like this, I wanted nothing more than to pack up and bolt to some private island. No boardrooms, no lawyers fighting over five percent shares, and no fake dinners where everyone smiles to your face while waiting for a chance to stab you in the back. Just quiet. Real silence for once.Instead, I had to come back to this house.The front doors of the estate swung open with a muffled thud as I punched in the security code. The entryway smelled like cold lilies and lemon spray, huge and empty, the kind of place people bought to show off their bank accounts instead of actually building a home.And then came the noise.Clack. Clack. Clack.Heels clicking against the tile floor. Fast, angry strides pacing back and forth across the sitting room right past the front hall.I didn't even have to look to know who it was.I took my time pulling my keys

Chapter Twenty-FiveAddie’s POVThere is nothing scarier than a guilty man trying to be sweet.When a guy knows he’s caught, he screams. When he thinks he’s about to be caught, he lies. But when a man thinks he just dodged an oncoming semi-truck by the skin of his teeth? He turns into a golden retriever. He wags his tail, drops slippers at your feet, and licks your hand until you want to rip your skin off just to make it stop.I woke up to the smell of browned butter, vanilla, and coffee.For a second, my eyes stayed glued to the ceiling, my brain short-circuiting. The last time Preston made breakfast in this apartment, we were living on cheap ramen and dreaming about his career taking off. For the last three years, if I didn't drag myself out of bed at six in the morning to scramble his eggs, toast his bread, and press his shirts, he’d walk out the front door slamming it hard enough to rattle the walls, complaining about how exhausting it was to be the only adult in the house.Now, t

Chapter Twenty-Eight Addie’s POVFake it until you make it is the biggest load of crap anyone ever invented.When your knees are shaking and your stomach feels like a washing machine full of broken glass, putting on expensive clothes doesn’t magically turn you into a badass. It just makes you a terrified girl in dry-clean-only fabric.I checked my reflection in the elevator doors for the tenth time.Gone.The oversized beige cardigans were gone. The faded mall-brand flats, the washed-out pastel blouses Preston always bought me because they made me look “approachable”—all of it was shoved in the back of my closet at home. Today, I was wearing a charcoal trousersuit. High-waisted, tailored right to my hips, with clean pleats that fell over four-inch pointed black heels. My hair was slicked back into a low, immaculate bun, and my lips had just enough muted berry tint to look like I meant business.Beneath the silk lining, the sterile bandage on my hip pulled tight, but I stood up strai

Chapter Thirty Addie’s POVMara was leaning against the hallway table when the elevator opened, looking like she had walked straight off a transport plane.She wore worn combat boots, dark cargo pants, and a faded green bomber jacket that had seen years of field service. Her hair was trimmed close on the sides and messy on top, and an olive canvas duffel hung from her shoulder. The moment she saw me, her mouth curved into that familiar, lopsided grin.“Look at you,” Mara said, dropping the duffel onto the floor with a dull clatter of metal gear. “Who put the choir girl in a tailored suit?”“Be quiet,” I laughed, the sound catching in my chest.I moved past my tailored blazer and the pull along my healing side, throwing my arms around her neck.Mara caught me against her, wrapping two tattooed arms around my back and lifting me off the rug. She held me there for several seconds, solid as a brick column, squeezing until my breath hitched.“Careful,” I winced against her collar. “Surgi