Lahat ng Kabanata ng Choked And Claimed By My Brother’s Best Friend : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

JosephineI’m gripping the bathroom sink like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to reality, knuckles gone white against cool porcelain. The woman staring back from the mirror looks like she’s been through a psychological blender—dark circles, hollow eyes, the kind of exhaustion that sleep won’t fix.“Get your shit together,” I whisper to my reflection.But I’m drowning. Missing deadlines, letting reports pile up, watching the merger timeline slip through my fingers like sand. I was supposed to be bulletproof. The woman who could juggle flaming chainsaws while negotiating hostile takeovers in designer heels.Instead, I’m unraveling faster than a cheap sweater.The water hits my face like a slap of clarity, but it doesn’t wash away the truth that’s been eating me alive: I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.There have been stolen moments that feel like borrowed time. Late-night conversations that go deeper than skin. Morning coffee that tastes like possibility. And Alexa

Alexander I scan her face, the corner of her mouth daring me to slip. “Unclip your hair. Let it fall.”Her brow arches, the barest twitch of resistance, but she obeys. One by one, she tugs the pins free, her movements slow, intentional. A cascade of silk tumbles down her shoulders, a dark sheet catching the low light and shimmering like something meant to test me.“Still predictable,” I murmur, even though the sight punches the air from my lungs.She crosses one leg over the other, the movement smooth, deliberate, calculated. The slide of skin, the faint rustle of fabric—it’s a performance, and she knows exactly how close she’s cutting me to breaking. “Undo the top three buttons of your shirt.”My fingers move to my chest. I don’t rush. I want her to see the patience in my defiance. One button. Two. The third comes undone with a snap of thread. Her gaze dips, just for a second, then drags back up like she’s daring me to notice.“My turn.” My voice roughens a

Josephine The second we step into the apartment, I bolt. My heels hit the floor with sharp little cracks, and I don’t even look back to see if he’s following. The bathroom door slams behind me, and I twist the lock like it could keep him out—not just from this room, but from the storm he’s worked loose inside me.I need space. I need the sting of water so hot it feels like punishment. I need something to strip the fight from my skin.My dress falls in a heap. Bra, panties, gone. I crank the handle until steam clouds the glass, until the first spray scalds across my shoulders. I stand beneath it, letting the burn swallow me whole.For a moment, it’s just me. Me and the water. Me and the echo of his voice.You don’t get to act like you don’t care.My fists clench against the tile. God, why does he know exactly how to wedge himself under my ribs? Why does every word of his settle in me like it belongs?The door creaks.I freeze, head jerking toward the

Alexander “It’s just banter,” she says, tossing it like a shield. Her tone is light, her grin quick, but I hear what she isn’t saying.Underneath the jokes, beneath the practiced calm, I catch the cracks. The questions that never leave my chest.Don’t stay gone too long.Don’t wake up tomorrow and decide I’m not enough.Josephine grabs her bag, slides the strap over her shoulder with that decisive snap I’ve come to know. She pauses at the door, glancing back. One last look. One last moment before she becomes untouchable again.Something flickers in her eyes—hesitation, maybe? Fear? It vanishes in a blink. She straightens, lips firm, spine proud.I follow her to the door, lean in, press my mouth to hers for one last kiss. Soft. Brief. Too damn short.“Be amazing.”Her voice steadies. “Always.”Then she’s gone, perfume trailing after her like a ghost.The silence that follows is loud, pressing against the walls of the apartment. I shut the

JosephineI lie awake long before the alarm goes off, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. The room is dim, painted in the pale gray of early morning. Alexander is beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his body curled into mine like we’re two pieces of a puzzle that shouldn’t fit but somehow do.It should feel perfect. Almost does. But my mind refuses to quiet down. Deadlines scream in the back of my head, investor calls stack up like bricks, and that familiar voice whispers that I’m already behind. That I’ll never catch up.And then there’s him.The way he holds me isn’t casual. It isn’t careless. It’s like I’m something irreplaceable, something he won’t let slip through his fingers. He clutches me as if I’m not spreadsheets and strategy meetings, not quarterly losses and sleepless nights—but simply a woman he wants. Just me.The thought rattles me. Peace is foreign to me, terrifying even. Because peace doesn’t last.I try to roll out of bed, but his arm tighten