Lahat ng Kabanata ng DIVORCED, BUT SPOILED BY MY FIVE BROTHERS : Kabanata 171 - Kabanata 180

Janet's Point of ViewGrandma's sitting room always felt the same.Warm. Unhurried. Full of the kind of quiet that only very old, very loved spaces carry. The kind that has absorbed decades of conversation and laughter and difficult silences and come out the other side still comfortable.I sat across from her with my tea and let the familiarity of it settle around me like something I hadn't known I needed until I was already inside it.We had been talking about work. About the direction my career was taking. About Edward's company and the new project and what it might mean for my practice going forward. Grandma listened the way she always did. Fully. Without rushing toward her own point.Then she set her cup down."And Rowan?" she said.I looked up."He is fine," I said. "Work has been demanding. You know how he gets when there is a lot moving at once. He goes quiet and focuses."Grandma nodded slowly.Too slowly.The kind of nod that means I hear your words and I am not entirely conv

Janet's Point of ViewI read the article three times.The first time my eyes moved too fast. Skipping over words. Catching only the large ones. Rowan. Tax. Government. Inquiry.The second time I slowed down and made myself read every sentence properly. Government agents from the tax revenue service had been seen at Rowan's company building that afternoon. Multiple sources had confirmed their presence. The situation was described as still unfolding. But an insider had spoken to the paper and said that Rowan had been unable to satisfactorily answer the questions put to him by the agents.The third time I read it I was looking for something specific. Something that would tell me this was exaggerated. That the paper had stretched a routine visit into a headline because routine visits don't sell papers.I didn't find it.I set the newspaper down on the cushion beside me.Was Rowan in trouble? Real trouble? The kind that didn't resolve itself quietly and move on? The kind that left marks?I

Edward's Point of ViewThe knock came at exactly the time I had scheduled it.I had learned over the years that punctuality was one of the first things that told you about a person. About how seriously they took what they were doing. About whether they understood that your time had value.Marcus was punctual. He always had been.He came in and closed the door behind him with the quiet efficiency of a man who had learned that certain conversations required that kind of care. He stood across from my desk. Dark suit. Straight back. The face of someone who had spent years doing difficult things and had made peace with all of them."Everything is moving as planned," he said.I looked at him."He should be behind bars within the next few days," Marcus continued. "The agents have what they need. The documentation we arranged has been placed correctly. The inquiry is accelerating."I leaned back in my chair slowly."Good," I said. "I want it fast. No delays. No procedural slowdowns." I held h

Rowan's Point of ViewThe room was cold.Not the kind of cold that comes from poor heating. The deliberate kind. The kind that is maintained carefully because discomfort is a tool and someone in this building understood how to use it.The light above the metal table was dim and yellow. The kind of light that makes everything look slightly worse than it actually is. The walls were grey. The floor was grey. The table was metal and the chair beneath me was hard in a way that stopped being merely uncomfortable after the first hour and became something closer to punishment.I sat with my arms stretched out in front of me on the table.To my left were the two men who had walked me out of my own building. They had not introduced themselves. They had not needed to. They were the kind of men whose function was self-explanatory. They sat with their hands flat on the table and their eyes forward and their faces arranged into the particular blankness of people who had been told to be present and

Janet's Point of ViewI lowered the phone slowly.The call had lasted less than four minutes. Four minutes to say what needed to be said. To ask the favor I had spent two days deciding whether to ask. To hear the confirmation I had needed.I exhaled.Long. Slow. The kind of breath that carries the weight of something you have been holding without fully realizing how heavy it was."Thank you," I had said. "I owe you this."And the call had ended.I sat with the phone in my lap and stared at the wall across the room and felt something settle in my chest that had not been settled in three days.He was out.Rowan was out.I had not allowed myself to feel the full weight of what it had meant to watch him on that television screen. Handcuffed. Being walked out of his own building while cameras recorded every step. I had managed it. Compressed it into something I could function alongside. Told myself it was concern for Grandma primarily. Told myself the tight feeling in my chest every time I