All Chapters of Touched by the Billionaire, Owned by the Devil: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The coastal permits were a mess. I spent the morning cross-referencing the updated filings against the state registry, and by noon I'd found two more shell companies buried in the paperwork. The addresses were the same empty lots as before, and the signatures matched the previous forgeries. I flagged both discrepancies and sent the file to Gideon with a summary note. He replied within minutes with a single line: "Legal's drafting a response. Good work."I stared at the message. He never said good work. He said things like "acceptable" or "that'll do" or, on good days, nothing at all. I read the message twice before closing my laptop.Michael wheeled past with a fresh paperclip for my chain. "You're smiling at your screen. Did Vale send you a joke?""Worse. He sent praise.""That's terrifying. What did he say?""'Good work.'"Michael stopped his chair and put a hand over his heart. "Two words. He's practically writing you love letters. Next he'll ask about your weekend.""I don't think

Lena was waiting at my desk when I arrived, two lavender lattes in her hands and a grin on her face that meant trouble. "You're coming to my place tonight." "I am?" "You are. Michael and Derek are already in. We're doing a movie night. My neighbor's parrot is the guest of honor." She set one of the lattes on my desk. "Before you say no, I should warn you that Michael already bought snacks, and Derek is baking something experimental. If you don't show up, I'll have to eat experimental baked goods alone, and that's not a risk I'm willing to take." "What kind of experimental?" "He said 'savory scones.' He wouldn't elaborate. I'm scared." I laughed before I could stop myself, and the sound felt lighter than it had in weeks. "Fine. But if the scones are terrible, I'm leaving." "If the scones are terrible, I'm leaving with you." She pushed off my desk and headed back toward legal. "Seven o'clock. I'll text you the address." Michael wheeled past with his coffee mug and a ba

The week started off. I woke up later than usual, the sun already bright through the window, and for a long moment I just lay there staring at the ceiling while the quiet stretched around me. Shane had left early for some meeting with a contact he swore would finally come through. I had the apartment to myself, and the silence felt like something I could almost hold in my hands, my phone buzzed. And buzzed again. And kept buzzing. I reached for it and saw seven messages stacked on the screen, all from Shane, all sent within the last ten minutes. 'You didn't iron my blue shirt.' – Shane 'I told you I needed it for today.' – Shane 'Now I have to wear something else.' – Shane 'You don't listen.' – Shane 'You never listen.' – Shane 'I have to do everything myself.' – Shane 'Don't bother cooking dinner. I'll eat out. Since you can't do anything right.' – Shane I stared at the screen and felt the familiar heat crawl up my spine. His blue shirt. The one he hadn't mentioned in weeks.

I woke before the alarm and the first thing I felt was the nausea and the second thing was the weight of the test box under the mattress pressing up through the springs. Shane was still asleep beside me with his arm thrown over his head and his breathing heavy and even. I slid out of bed without making a sound and my feet were cold against the floor. The bathroom door closed with a soft click and I locked it. The test box was in my hand and I opened it with fingers that felt disconnected from my body. Remove the cap. Hold the tip in the stream. Wait two minutes. I had read the instructions so many times they were burned into the back of my eyelids but I read them again anyway because I needed something to focus on that wasn't the shaking in my hands. I took the test and set it on the edge of the sink with the cap replaced and the waiting began. Two minutes. The bathroom tiles were cold under my feet and I counted the seconds in my head and the numbers kept slipping away from me. The

I opened my eyes to the gray morning light and the nausea was already there waiting for me. I pressed my palm against my stomach and breathed through it while Shane slept beside me with his back turned and the sheets twisted around his legs. The clock on the nightstand said it was late. He should have left for his meeting an hour ago. He didn't move when I slid out of bed, and he didn't move when I walked to the bathroom and closed the door. I brushed my teeth and the mint taste made my stomach heave and I gripped the sink until it passed. When I came out he was sitting up in bed with his phone in his hand, and his eyes followed me across the room without blinking. "You're still here," I said. "No meeting today. Got canceled." He set the phone down and stretched his arms over his head. "Figured I'd stay home for once." He never stayed home. I pulled on my clothes while his eyes tracked every movement, and the weight of his stare made my skin prickle. At breakfast he watched me