Twice His Wife
img img Twice His Wife img Chapter 4 THE ROOM WITH THE LOCKED DRAWER.
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Chapter 7 THE LOCKED DRAWER. img
Chapter 8 NOT ALL TRUTHS STAY BURIED. img
Chapter 9 SOUTHBRIDGE. img
Chapter 10 WHAT THE SILENCE DIDN'T SAY. img
Chapter 11 THE GAME BENEATH THE VOWS. img
Chapter 12 THE CUT THAT DIS NOT BLEED. img
Chapter 13 A NAME NO ONE SPOKE. img
Chapter 14 TERMS OF RESURRECTION. img
Chapter 15 THE QUIET BEFORE THE COLLAPSE. img
Chapter 16 THE WOMAN WITH THE BRIEF CASE img
Chapter 17 PAPER CUTS AND WOUNDS. img
Chapter 18 EVERYTHING LEFT UNSAID. img
Chapter 19 BLOOD DOES NOT LIE. img
Chapter 20 COST OF KNOWING. img
Chapter 21 THE LINE BETWEEN BLOOD AND WAR. img
Chapter 22 SOME FIRES DO NOT DIE. img
Chapter 23 WHERE THE SHADOWS BLEED. img
Chapter 24 RACING THE PULSE. img
Chapter 25 THE ECHO OF LIES. img
Chapter 26 THE TRAP WITHIN THE TRAP. img
Chapter 27 DEAD WEIGHT. img
Chapter 28 THE WOMAN IN THE SHADOW. img
Chapter 29 WHEN THE SILENCE BREAKS. img
Chapter 30 THE LINE THEY CROSSED. img
Chapter 31 THE EDGE OF THE MAP. img
Chapter 32 NO TURNING BACK. img
Chapter 33 THE ARCHITECT. img
Chapter 34 ALL BETS ARE OFF. img
Chapter 35 NO WAY OUT. img
Chapter 36 THE BREAKING img
Chapter 37 ASHES AND REVELATIONS. img
Chapter 38 THE BREAK. img
Chapter 39 FIRE FROM THE WRECKAGE. img
Chapter 40 LINE OF FIRE. img
Chapter 41 WHAT YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO KNOW. img
Chapter 42 DAY ZERO . img
Chapter 43 THE GHOST AT THE GATE. img
Chapter 44 WHAT LIVES IN THE DARK. img
Chapter 45 THE BREAK THAT MATTERS. img
Chapter 46 LOCKED IN. img
Chapter 47 THE NAME IT SPOKE. img
Chapter 48 COLLATERAL ROYALTIES. img
Chapter 49 THE VOICE THAT WAS NOT HERS. img
Chapter 50 WHAT IS LEFT STANDING img
Chapter 51 THE SMOKE BETWEEN THEM. img
Chapter 52 THE PLACE WHERE IT ALL BEGAN. img
Chapter 53 WHEN THE DUST REDUSED TO SETTLE. img
Chapter 54 THE SILENCE THAT SCREAMED. img
Chapter 55 THE LINE BETWEEN US. img
Chapter 56 WHAT CAN NOT BE UNDONE. img
Chapter 57 THE THINGS WE DO NOT SAY. img
Chapter 58 A TWICE CRACKS IN SILENCE. img
Chapter 59 THE CRACKS IN SILENCE. img
Chapter 60 THE SILENCE BEFORE THE STORM. img
Chapter 61 NO GOING BACK. img
Chapter 62 WHERE THE SHADOWS SETTLE. img
Chapter 63 WHEN THE SILENCE BREAKS. img
Chapter 64 THE EDGE OF LOYALTY. img
Chapter 65 BENEATH THE SKIN. img
Chapter 66 THE ONE THING HE NEVER EXPECTED. img
Chapter 67 WHAT THEY DO NOT SAY ALOUD. img
Chapter 68 THE UNREADABLE. img
Chapter 69 UNEXPECTED TURN. img
Chapter 70 THE ROOM WHERE EVERYTHING CHANGED. img
Chapter 71 THE CONSEQUENCES WE CARRIED. img
Chapter 72 THE WEIGHT OF KNOWING. img
Chapter 73 WHAT WE DO NOT SAY OUT LOUD. img
Chapter 74 THE LINE WE CROSS. img
Chapter 75 TELLING THE STORY FIRST. img
Chapter 76 AND IF THE WORLD BURNS. img
Chapter 77 THE LINE HAS ALREADY BEEN CROSSED. img
Chapter 78 MEET ME IN THE FIRE. img
Chapter 79 THE ONE WHO NEVER LEAVES QUIETLY. img
Chapter 80 YOU WANTED FIRE. img
Chapter 81 THE ART OF SILENCE. img
Chapter 82 THERE WAS A FIRE ONCE. img
Chapter 83 THE HOUR AFTER THE FIRE. img
Chapter 84 THE KIND OF SILENCE THAT BURNS. img
Chapter 85 THE WEIGHT OF WHAT YOU KNOW. img
Chapter 86 SOMEONE YOU LOVE WILL BLEED. img
Chapter 87 A BLADE BETWEEN THE RIBS. img
Chapter 88 THEY THINK I'M THE MONSTER; MAYBE I AM. img
Chapter 89 THE LINE SHE WOULDN'T CROSS. img
Chapter 90 NO ONE LEAVES CLEAN. img
Chapter 91 WHATEVER YOU TOOK;THEY WANT IT BACK, img
Chapter 92 THE BREAKING POINT. img
Chapter 93 WE ARE PAST THE POINT OF MERCY. img
Chapter 94 THE COST OF KNOWING. img
Chapter 95 THE WEIGHT OF TRUTH. img
Chapter 96 THE EDGE OF EVERYTHING. img
Chapter 97 WE BLEED, THEN WE RUN. img
Chapter 98 WE BURN WHAT WE CAN NOT BURY. img
Chapter 99 IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST. img
Chapter 100 LET THE WORLD WATCH. img
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Chapter 4 THE ROOM WITH THE LOCKED DRAWER.

The storm broke at midnight. Not the kind that thundered outside, but the one Anais had been holding in her chest since Irene walked out the door. She lay in bed, listening to the quiet. Cassian wasn't home yet. He hadn't texted. Hadn't called. He rarely did unless it served a purpose. Still, part of her had thought maybe-just maybe-after the morning they'd had, he might- No. That wasn't who he was. Not anymore. Maybe not ever. She got out of bed and walked barefoot to the study. She didn't turn on the lights.

The city glowed through the massive windows, casting long shadows on the wood floors. His desk sat in the middle of the room-matte black, surgical in its neatness, untouched by warmth. Anais hesitated. Then she walked behind it and sat in his chair. The leather was cold. She ran her fingers along the edge of the desk. It felt like him-expensive, smooth, distant. She opened the side drawers, half-expecting them to be locked, but they weren't. Pens, papers, contracts. Then her eyes landed on the bottom one. Locked. Of course. Cassian didn't lock things unless he had something to hide. She crouched, checked the edges. It wasn't a digital lock-just an old-fashioned keyhole. Her fingers hovered there. She wasn't sure what she expected. Proof of betrayal? Evidence of another life? No. That was too easy. Cassian wasn't messy like that. If he was hiding something, it wouldn't be obvious. Still, the drawer mocked her. The lock sat like a secret with teeth. She stood, suddenly restless, and paced toward the bookshelves lining the far wall. They were more for aesthetics than function. A curated selection of classic titles, bound in leather and arrogance. And then she spotted it. A photo. Tucked behind a copy of The Art of War. She pulled it out with trembling fingers. It was a picture of them. From their engagement party. She hadn't even known he kept it. Her smile in the photo was soft, unsure. His was absent. She remembered that night. The way his mother had kissed her cheek too hard. The way his father had clinked a glass and said, "Welcome to the firm, not the family." She slid the photo back. This place was a museum of the man he let the world see-but not the man himself. And still, she couldn't stop digging. Cassian returned at 1:07 a.m. She heard the door open, then the sound of his coat being hung up, his steps slow and measured across the hardwood floors. She didn't move. He found her in the study. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, voice low. "Irene came by." He stiffened. "And?" "She warned me," Anais said. "About the board. About the whispers." Cassian didn't reply. She stood and faced him. "They think I'm going to ruin your succession plan." "They think too much." "Do you?" He studied her. "I don't have time to think about things I can't control." "But you can control me?" she asked, stepping forward. He didn't flinch. "You agreed to the contract." "So this is about the contract again." "It never stopped being about the contract." Her throat tightened. "I found the drawer." His eyes darkened, just slightly. "And?" "It's locked." Cassian walked past her and sat on the edge of the desk. "Some things are better left that way." "Why?" she whispered. "What are you hiding from me?" He looked up at her, then stood slowly and closed the distance between them. "Nothing you don't already feel," he said. It wasn't an answer. It wasn't a denial. It was a weight, dropped softly at her feet. And it hurt more than shouting ever could. The next morning, Anais sat at the breakfast table while Cassian read the paper. Neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't new-but this time, it didn't feel cold. It felt like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap. "I want to work," she said finally. Cassian looked up, his brow slightly arched. "What?" "I want to do something. While I'm here. Contribute." "To what?" he asked. "The illusion?" "To my own sanity." He folded the paper and leaned back. "And where exactly do you see yourself working?" "PR," she said. "Brand direction. Something forward-facing. I know how this company presents itself. I lived in your shadow long enough." He studied her. "No." She blinked. "Excuse me?" "It's not safe." That surprised her. "For me?" "For the company." Her chest burned. "You don't trust me?" "I don't trust them." "They already hate me. You said it yourself-this is about control. Let me control something." He didn't answer. "Cassian," she said more softly, "if I'm going to be paraded in front of the press, the least you can do is let me be part of what I'm pretending to support." A long silence passed. Then he said, "You'll shadow Irene." "What?" "She's head of strategy now. She'll assign you something minor. No board exposure. No direct press. Internal projects only." It wasn't what she wanted. But it was a start. "Fine," she said. "Thank you." Cassian looked at her, unreadable. "Don't thank me. This is still a cage. I just changed the color of the bars." Later that week, Anais stepped into the conference room where Irene was waiting. She looked every inch the executive now-sleek ponytail, slate suit, eyes like storm clouds. "So," Irene said without looking up, "you're shadowing me." "Apparently," Anais replied. "You understand what that means?" "That I get to sit next to the power and pretend I have any?" Irene almost smiled. "You've learned sarcasm." "I had time." Irene handed her a file. "This is the real reason Cassian let you in," she said. "A small branding overhaul for one of our subsidiaries-TruForm Technologies. They've got investor eyes on them for the first time. Board wants it quiet, clean, handled." "Why me?" "Because they don't think you'll matter if it fails." Anais stared at the folder. "And if it doesn't fail?" "Then they'll hate you more." She worked late. The project wasn't glamorous. It was spreadsheets, concept designs, branding templates. But it was hers. And for the first time since stepping back into this life, Anais felt like she wasn't just a prop in someone else's narrative. She stayed in the office long after Irene left. She was so focused she didn't hear the footsteps behind her until Cassian spoke. "Working late, Mrs. Vale?" She jumped slightly. "You don't announce yourself anymore?" she muttered. "You're trespassing in my domain," he said. "Correction-I've been assigned to it." He nodded toward the file in her hand. "Do you know why they gave you that one?" "Because they think I'm a low-risk failure." Cassian didn't correct her. Instead, he moved beside her and looked at the board she'd pinned images to-color palettes, logo revisions, tagline options. He pointed to one. "That one's wrong." "It's clean," she argued. "It's safe." She crossed her arms. "And that's bad?" He turned to face her. "Anais, no one remembers safe. They remember bold. They remember broken glass and sharp edges." She met his eyes. "Then why did you marry someone who made everything quiet?" The air thickened. Cassian said nothing. But his eyes-cold, sharp, alive-held hers for too long. "Because I thought quiet meant peace," he finally said. "And now?" "I'm learning it means silence." Anais watched him leave. For the first time in a long time, she realized something. He was lonely. Not the kind that came from lack of people. The kind that came from a life so tightly controlled, no one ever really knew him. But now she did. And the question wasn't whether she'd stay. It was whether she'd ever let herself need him again. Because loving Cassian Vale wasn't just dangerous. It was ruin in a tailored suit. And she wasn't sure she could survive it twice.

            
            

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