Lahat ng Kabanata ng My Millionaire Husband’s Secret: Kabanata 251 - Kabanata 260

The shift in her expression doesn’t sit right with me. It’s subtle—too subtle for anyone else to notice. But I do. I always did.I take a seat across from her and notice her expression.That slight softening in her eyes… the way her shoulders relax just enough to seem less guarded. Less confrontational. More… inviting. My jaw tightens instantly. “No,” I say flatly, leaning back just enough to put space between us. “Don’t do that.” Her brows knit slightly, feigning innocence. “Do what?” That’s it.A sharp, humorless laugh leaves me as I shake my head, dragging my cuffed hands across the table with a harsh scrape of metal.“That thing,” I snap, leaning forward again—this time faster, harder. “That act. Like you’re still—” I cut myself off, jaw clenching. Like you’re still mine.You’re not mine, I don’t want you. Her gaze doesn’t break. If anything, it deepens.“I’m not acting, Alan.” Her voice drops—quieter now, smoother. “You’re just not used to seeing me without all the nois

Time to stretch my legs—and see what my top detectives have managed to uncover.I push back from my desk, the legs of my chair scraping softly against the floor, and step out of my office into the precinct’s common area. The fluorescent lights have been dimmed for the night shift, casting long shadows across half-empty desks. Most of second shift has already cleared out, leaving behind only the low hum of machinery and the occasional rustle of paperwork.Miller and Pennet remain, as expected.And then there’s her.A young blonde woman sits stiffly near Miller’s desk, hands folded too tightly in her lap. She was identified earlier as Alan’s sister. Even from a distance, I can see the tension in her posture—the way her shoulders curl inward, as if trying to make herself smaller.I make my way over at an unhurried pace.“Good evening, ma’am,” I say, keeping my tone measured and professional. “I’m the sergeant of this precinct. I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been waiting here for quite

After being awarded my divorce, I remain seated in the now-empty courtroom, my hands resting limply in my lap as I try to steady my breathing.Moments ago, this room was suffocating—filled with voices, tension, judgment. Now it’s eerily quiet, the kind of silence that hums in your ears. The world that had been spinning relentlessly around me has finally begun to slow, and for the first time in what feels like years, I can breathe.Really breathe.Relief settles into my chest, heavy and unfamiliar. It isn’t joy—not quite—but it’s something close. Something fragile. Like if I move too quickly, it might shatter.“Are you ready?”Lincoln’s voice breaks through the stillness as he steps out of the judge’s chambers, gently closing the door behind him. The soft click echoes louder than it should. When I look up at him, I catch the small smile tugging at his lips—subtle, but laced with his own quiet relief.“I think so,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly mig

Much to my displeasure, I leave Jess to answer the door. Irritation rolls through me as I stride across the house, already dreading whoever decided to show up this late.I yank the door open, making it abundantly clear that I’m in no mood for visitors, but my annoyance quickly fades into surprise when I find Officer Miller standing there with a small cardboard box balanced in one hand.“Your delivery guy just left,” he says flatly.I step aside and pull the door wider so he can enter.Before shutting it, I glance cautiously down the hallway to make sure no one else is lingering nearby. Satisfied, I close and lock the door behind him.“Thank you,” I say as I take the box from his hand.I carry it toward the kitchen counter, placing it down carefully while forcing myself to appear casual.“Is there a congratulations in order?” Miller asks, his tone curious but restrained.“We’re not sure yet,” I answer as I turn back toward him, “but it seems that way.”A faint understanding crosses his

I pull my vehicle over about two blocks away from our suspect’s home and wait for Narcotics to arrive.The Sergeant had made it abundantly clear that their presence wasn’t optional. A drug of this caliber was being manufactured and distributed within our district, and multiple reports suggested it had already proven lethal.Within minutes, a large black van rolls to a stop behind me.The side door slides open.Two Narcotics officers step out wearing full-body protective suits, face shields, breathing masks, and tactical vests carrying their sidearms. They look more prepared for a hazardous materials incident than a simple search warrant.One of them approaches and holds out a folded protective suit.“Put this on.”I take it without complaint.“We’ve been ordered to treat this as an aerosol contaminant,” the second officer explains gravely. “Most synthetic drugs have to be chemically combined or cooked. If this guy is manufacturing the product himself, the air could be contaminated. Tr