While My Husband Cheated I Married His Powerful Brother novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Chapter 42 This Isn’t Over

The bedroom was dark.

Eleanor sat on the edge of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear, her free hand gripping the duvet so hard her knuckles had gone white. The voice on the other end was muffled, hurried, terrified.

"She doesn’t know," the voice said. "The woman. She has no idea who hired us. She didn’t even ask. She just pointed the gun at him and told him to drop the knife."

Eleanor’s breath came out in a rush. Relief. Hot and overwhelming.

"You’re sure?"

"Positive. She never mentioned your name. Never mentioned anyone’s name. She just kept saying ’drop the knife’ over and over."

Eleanor closed her eyes. The panic that had seized her chest began to loosen. Just a little.

But then the voice spoke again.

"The girl is safe. Thorne has her. Our men are in custody."

"I know," Eleanor said. Her voice was sharp. "I saw them."

"What do you want us to do?"

"Nothing. Lay low. Don’t contact me again."

She hung up.

The phone slipped from her fingers onto the bed. She sat there, staring at the wall, her mind racing.

Veyra did not know.

Veyra had no idea that Eleanor had hired the kidnappers. That Eleanor had planned the whole thing. That Eleanor had wanted to destroy her.

The relief was still there. But underneath it, something else was growing. Something hot and bitter.

Rage.

Veyra had escaped. Again. The woman had swum across a lake in the dark, put a gun to a man’s head, and walked away without a scratch.

It was not supposed to happen that way.

Eleanor had planned everything perfectly. The crowd at the café. The kidnappers. The remote location on South Ring Road where Veyra was supposed to go alone and disappear forever.

But Veyra had not gone to South Ring Road. She had gone to Greenery Villa. She had found Lily. She had saved her.

And now the whole family would talk about her like she was a hero.

Eleanor’s hands curled into fists.

"This isn’t over," she whispered to the empty room. "Next time, I’ll finish it. Next time, you won’t escape."

*

Veyra sneezed for the third time since walking through the front door.

The blanket was still wrapped around her shoulders. Her dress was still wet. Her hair was still dripping. She stood in the foyer, shivering, while servants rushed past her, too busy fussing over Lily to notice her.

Lily was surrounded. Beatrice was crying. Harold had his arm around her. Phillip was asking questions no one was answering. Even Celeste looked relieved.

Veyra slipped away. She climbed the stairs. Her legs were heavy. Her feet were numb.

She reached her bedroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

The room was warm. The fire had been lit. Someone had turned down the bed.

She wanted to shower. She wanted to wash the lake water off her skin. But Dorian was still downstairs. He would come up eventually. He would need to change. He would need to check on Lily.

She decided to wait.

She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest. The blanket fell away. Her dress was cold against her skin.

She thought about the car ride home. The silence. The cold war.

She had been angry. Spiteful. She had lied about the flyers because she wanted to hurt him. Because he had mocked her and she wanted to mock him back.

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