Chased by My Possessive Ex (Dylan) novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58

DYLAN

We went home to our two–bedroom small apartment after we closed the shop. Upon entering the door, the huge frame of our wedding picture greeted me. And every corner of this house was filled with pictures of us. I have no reason to doubt him, yet I have this strange feeling that tells me this isn’t right.

Why am I doubting him?

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked as he gently caressed my back.

I flinched against his touch. No matter how much I tried, I can’t bring myself to get used to it.

“I–I’m fine. I’m tired. That’s all,” I replied, forcing a smile on my face as I subtly put a distance between us.

I went straight to my room and quickly locked the door. I breathe a sigh of relief as I lean against the door.

It’s been two years, and yet, we haven’t shared a room. When I got out of the hospital, I told him I’m not ready to share a bed until I regain my memory. He was reluctant at first, but eventually, he agreed.

I headed straight for the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the unease twisting in my stomach. The steam fogged up the mirror, the room filling with warmth, but it couldn’t melt the strange, crawling suspicion settling under my skin.

I kept replaying the way I flinched when he touched me. The way something inside me whispered, “This isn’t right,” even when everything around me looked so normal. Perfect wedding photos lining the walls.

I don’t remember anything, but I should at least feel something about him, right? But his presence feels strange.

I shut off the water and wrapped a towel around myself. I walked toward the closet with shaky hands, pulling out the first set of fresh clothes I could reach. The fabric felt soft against my fingers, familiar in a way my memories still weren’t. I dressed slowly, buying myself a moment to steady my breathing, to convince myself that the strange heaviness in my chest was nothing but exhaustion.

I plugged in the blow dryer, its hum filling the small room as warm air brushed through my damp hair. The noise was oddly soothing, almost enough to drown out the quiet questions knocking inside my head.

Why was I feeling like this?

Why did his touch still make me tense, even after two years?

I ran my fingers through my hair, guiding the warm air down the strands, forcing myself to breathe normally. This should’ve been a peaceful moment–me, in my room, getting ready for bed after a long day at the shop. But even then, something felt off, like the air was too heavy, the silence too expectant.

When I finally turned off the dryer, the sudden quiet made my ears ring.

And that’s when I heard it–his voice drifting faintly from the kitchen.

I cracked the door open, just enough to peek out, then stepped quietly into the hallway. The light from the kitchen spilled faintly across the floor, stretching like a thin line I was somehow afraid to cross. My bare feet barely made a sound as I walked, every step slow and careful, my heart pounding harder the closer I got.

His voice became clearer.

I told you, I’m doing everything I can. But if he’s still looking for her after all this time, then we have a problem,” he whispered, his tone sharper than I’d ever heard inside our home

Chapter 58

I stopped near the corner, hidden by the wall, hardly daring to eathe..

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He sighed, frustrated. “Do you understand what that means? If he finds out she’s still alive…” His voice dropped lower, too low for me to catch the rest.

Alive.

Still alive.

The words hit me like ice water.

Was he talking about me?

I didn’t say anything.

Because the more he spoke, the clearer the lie sounded.

Because no one gets that furious over a missing cousin.

Chapter 58

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Because the way he said he will always be my husband kept echong in my head like a warning I wasn’t supposed to hear.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he finished, stepping closer and reaching for my arm. “You don’t have to worry about any of this. It’s a family business. Nothing to do with you.”

I forced a small nod, my lips barely moving. “Okay… if you say so.”

His shoulders dropped a fraction, relief flickering through his expression as though he’d won something.

But inside, I was anything but calm.

Something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

And even if I didn’t have my memories… my instincts were screaming that Beckett’s story was nothing but a thin veil over something far more terrifying.