All Chapters of In the arms of two sins: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Andrea's PovThe first thing I felt was the throb in my head, a steady pulse that made the back of my eyes ache. I sat up slowly, the sheets sliding against my skin, but my vision was blur. I had to reach out and grip the edge of the nightstand to keep from sliding off the bed. The room was dark. I blinked, trying to clear the fog in my brain. The last thing I remembered was heading out to meet David, and then, blacking out. I touched my forehead. There was no bandage, just a tender spot near my hairline. I must have been out for hours. My phone chimed on the bed beside me. The sound made me wince, but I reached for it anyway. I squinted, scrolling through the notifications until I saw the message from Leo, the man I had hired to keep an eye on Mara.“Found out more about her. This is where her father spends his time.”Below the text was a photo. It was a street view of a restaurant—dark wood, gold lettering, and a glass entrance. Richard’s place. I stared at the image, my thumb

Mara's PovThe first thing I felt when I opened my eyes was the silence. I was lying on a bed that smelled faintly of cedar and expensive detergent—David’s scent. Memory rushed back in a violent wave. The restaurant. My father’s voice. The shadow in the street. The fall. I sat up too fast, and the room spun. My hand flew to my forehead, brushing against a small adhesive plaster. David had cleaned me up. The thought made my stomach roll with nausea. I stood up, my legs feeling like weak, and stumbled toward the front door. I grabbed the handle and twisted. It didn't budge. I pulled harder, a sob of frustration catching in my throat. Locked.He had locked me in. He was still trying to "protect" me, still trying to control the narrative. I looked around the room, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. My eyes landed on the window. I scrambled toward it, fumbling with the latch until it gave way. I climbed out, my fingers scraping against the wood, my joints aching. I dropped the

Elias’s Pov I stared at the eggs on my plate, the yellow yolks congealing into a cold, unappealing mess. Across from me, Andrea’s chair was empty—likely still recovering. But it was the chair opposite me that drew my gaze. Mara’s chair. She hadn't come down for breakfast. She hadn't even opened her door when I knocked. *What is she doing in there?* I asked myself, the worry gnawing at my gut like a physical hunger. *Is she crying? Is she staring at the wall? Or is she planning her exit?*She's always soft, and make decisions out of emotions. She needed to eat. I stood up, the chair legs scraping harshly against the floor. I was halfway to the grand staircase, my mind already rehearsing what I would say to get her to open that door, when a hand touched my elbow.I turned. Camille was standing there. “Can we talk?" she asked.I looked at the stairs, then back at her. There was something in her eyes—a flicker of desperation that she was trying very hard to hide. I gave a short, cu

Mara's Pov"Mara,"My name in his tongue disgusted me. He reached out, coming close to me, but I didn't let him get close. I didn't even let him speak."Elias," I said, my voice as cold and flat. "I don't want him here. I don't want him near me, and I don't want him in this building."I felt Elias stare on me before he stepped into the space between us, his presence shielding me from David. He didn't look at David with anger; he looked at him with the detached boredom of a man swatting a fly. "You heard her," Elias said. He turned his head slightly toward the two security guards standing by the entrance. "If this man sets foot inside these doors, or if I see him within fifty feet of Mrs. Lawson again, you both lose your jobs by noon. Do I make myself clear?""Yes, sir!" the guards straightened, their hands moving toward their belts.David skidded to a halt, his chest heaving. "Mara, please! Just five minutes. I can explain, I can explain everything—"I didn't spare him a single glanc

Mara's Pov I opened my eyes and the room was wrong. Its arrangement was the same way it was when Philip was alive. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, my back turned to the door. I heard the familiar click of the front lock. Then the sound of a heavy leather briefcase being set on the bed. Philip was home. He was inside. I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek. I didn't know why I was crying. I tried to reach up and wipe it away, but my arm felt weak. I wasn't in control. I was a passenger in my own body, watching a movie I had lived through once before. That's when it dawned on me I was reliving the night Philip had died. I stood up, and the world tilted. My head spun violently, a wave of nausea hitting me. I remembered this. I had been drinking. Clara had warned me specifically about the medication she’d put me on after the "molar pregnancy" procedure. She’d told me that alcohol would be dangerous, that my body was too weak. But I hadn't cared. That night, I had felt like I