Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 212

Chapter 212

Chapter 212

MANCA

The crack went from left to center and split Inda

I had looked at it so many times that I could trace it with my eyes closed. 1 trzradit som

“I’m telling you this,” she said, “not to cause you pain. Though I acknowleday that’s doet.” The duodegre honest thing she had ever said to me, stripped of pretense. “I’m telling, you because you have been spending your mergy on hope. On the belief that someone is looking That Rivera is suspicion, or that Klabhas noticed something or the Loun perception will eventually reach the right person.” She set the desce back on the tray. “I want you to have as yet Nobody is coming. They are at home, all of them, and they are having, Saturday mornings, abryn a bea”

I didn’t say anything

“When the ritual is complete,” she said, “and I no longer need you, I will not kill you. “

1 had learned that when she said something unexpected, the correct response was to wait, because the rest of it was alw worse than the opening

*

“I will be sending Rivera some information,” she said. “About Louis’s drink. About the compound in it, the amounts, the duration, the hand that administered it every morning” She watched me with the even eyes. “About the curse-breaker who came into his house and into his son’s life and spent months building trust and using it to slowly prepare a five-year-old chald for a ritual blood extraction.”

The words arrived and I processed them and did not allow my face to do anything

“He will have footage,” she continued, “Of your replacement, but the footage will not look like a replacement. It will look like you. It will look like Bianca Morrison, trusted physician and curse-breaker, systematically and daily poisoning a child who called her by a name he chose himself.”

I breathed.

“He lost his wife to exactly this kind of betrayal,” she said. “Elena died because someone used his son. Lucian Rivera is not a man who forgives that. He is not built for it.” She paused. “And whatever he decides to do with what he knows, I will make sure Matthew Morrison knows it too. A man who has been told his ex-wife is dead, who is building a new life around that fact, who has spent eight months watching his son grieve. When he finds out that you were alive, in BloodMoon City, and chose not to

head again. “The pack will have opinions.”

come to you

to be

as flat. Flatter than I meant it to be, or exactly as flat as I meant it to be. I wasn’t sure which

to Matthew to deal with directly,” she said. “Which think is the more likely outcome. He is teresting things to people’s judgment.” She stood, smoothing her jacket with both hands. Carded, Bianca. That has been true since the beginning. The only question was the timing and

oses in three days,” she said. “We have what we need from you in terms of preliminary extraction. The be the day after tomorrow.” She moved toward the door with the unhurried steps I had learned like a going to want to rest. Eat what they bring you. What happens next will go better if your body is in reasonable

at the door.

Rivera or Matthew has an epiphany,” she said, and her tone had a quality that was the closest the ever came to

ment. “Unless one of them somehow stumbles upon this location without any of my people noticing in time to warn me

Chapter 219-

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Unless everything I’ve built over fifteen years fails in the next forty-eight hours due to a coincidence I have not anticipated.” She opened the door. “In which case, you are welcome to be rescued. But I have been very thorough, Bianca. I have always been very thorough.”

The door closed behind her.

The footsteps moved away down the corridor in the same even rhythmr they had arrived in.

I looked at the ceiling crack.

I gave myself ten minutes.

This was a system I had built in the first week. When she came and said the things she said and left, I gave myself ten minutes where I was allowed to feel all of it at once, without managing it or directing it. The grief, the fear, the specific quality of helpless fury that came when someone told you things about your child that you could not do anything about yet. I let it exist at full volume for ten minutes and then I put it somewhere I could access but not be consumed by, and I went back to work.

The ten minutes were bad today.

Theo’s real laugh. The set of his shoulders when he was making an argument. The way he had looked at Cal with the ease of someone who had decided something and was comfortable with the decision. My son at almost five years old, adapting the way children adapted, surviving the way children survived, finding new anchors in the way that Voss had described with clinical detachment but which was, underneath her framing of it, the most alive thing I had heard about in weeks.

He was okay.

He was in a market on a Saturday morning, winning an argument about something I couldn’t identify, laughing with his whole self at something Cal had done. He was okay.

I was going to stay with that.

I was also going to stay with the other part, the part that Voss intended as a wound and which I was refusing to receive as one. Theo was adapting. Theo was forming attachments. Theo was letting someone else be present in the way that I had not been able to be present, and that was not abandonment, and it was not replacement, and I was not going to let Miriam Voss use my son’s survival as a weapon against me.

She could tell me about the plan to show Rivera the footage.

She could describe exactly what that kind of evidence would do to a man who had already lost someone through a betrayal of

trust.

She could tell me that I was always meant to be discarded,

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I’ve built over fifteen years bails in the next forty-eight hours due to a coincidence I have not

She opened the door. “In which case, you are welcome to be rescued. But I have been very thorough, Blanca. 11 very thorough”

The door closed behand

The footsteps moved away down the corridor in the same even rhythm, they had arrived in.

1 looked at the ceiling crack.

1 gave myself ten minutes.

This was a system I had built in the first week. When she came and said the things she said and left, I gave myself ten minutes where I was allowed to feel all of it at once, without managing it or directing it. The grief, the fear, the specific quality of helpless fury that came when someone told you things about your child that you could not do anything about yet. I let it exist at full volume for ten minutes and then I put it somewhere I could access but not be consumed by, and I went back to work

The ten minutes were bad today.

Theo’s real laugh. The set of his shoulders when he was making an argument. The way he had looked at Cal with the ease of someone who had decided something and was comfortable with the decision. My son at almost five years old, adapting the way children adapted, surviving the way children survived, finding new anchors in the way that Voss had described with clinical detachment but which was, underneath her framing of it, the most alive thing I had heard about in weeks.

He was okay.

He was in a market on a Saturday morning, winning an argument about something I couldn’t identify, laughing with his whole self at something Cal had done. He was okay,

I was going to stay with that.

I was also going to stay with the other part, the part that Voss intended as a wound and which I was refusing to receive as one. Theo was adapting Theo was forming attachments. Theo was letting someone else be present in the way that I had not been able to be present, and that was not abandonment, and it was not replacement, and I was not going to let Miriam Voss use my son’s survival as a weapon against me.

She could tell me about the plan to show Rivera the footage.

She could describe exactly what that kind of evidence would do to a man who had already lost someone through a betrayal of

trust

She could tell me that I was always meant to be discarded,

1

COIN BUNDLE: get more free bonus

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