All Chapters of ABANDONED BY MY EX, ACCEPTED HIS BOSS'S PROPOSAL : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

That hit him harder than she expected. His shoulders tensed, and when he looked back at her, there was a kind of devastation in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. “I’ll go,” he said quietly. “But I’m not giving up.” Clara let him go without another word. When the door closed behind him, she let herself fall apart. --- Next Scene: Kevin’s Suspicion The next day, Kevin sat at his desk in Alex’s office, the stack of paperwork untouched in front of him. The accident replayed in his mind again and again. Brakes severed. Car flipped. Surveillance cameras conveniently disabled. He knew a cover-up when he saw one. Maya Stark. He didn’t have proof—yet. But he could feel her shadow in every corner of this. And if Alex wouldn’t open his eyes, Kevin would find a way to do it for him. He pulled out his private laptop and began decrypting the backup files from the night of the crash. He’d find something. He had to. ************** The evening air was cold, sharper than usual, as Maya S

Alex stared at his phone, still ringing with Clara’s name. She wasn’t picking up. Again. He looked up as Kevin entered, grim. “She saw the video,” Kevin said. Alex paled. “How?” “It was emailed to her. From an anonymous account. Maya.” Alex staggered back, fury and guilt colliding in his chest. “I’m going to her,” he said. Kevin blocked his way. “Not now. Maya’s still out there. And you walking into Clara’s life again right now—after she saw that—is going to do more damage than good.” Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Then what the hell do I do?” Kevin’s face was hard. “You fight. You build your case. You destroy Maya. And you earn your way back.” Alex nodded slowly. He would burn down the entire world if it meant keeping Clara safe. ********* Maya sat at a long table in a private room at the back of a luxury hotel. Across from her sat three men in expensive suits—shareholders of Alex’s company. “Mr. Banks is compromised,” Maya said simply. “His personal life is bleed

The rain hadn’t let up for days. It tapped relentlessly against the windows of the penthouse, as if mimicking the disquiet inside Clara’s chest. She stood by the glass, arms wrapped around her waist, watching the world blur behind wet glass. Behind her, the soft rustle of footsteps made her tense, but she didn’t turn around. Alex was there. She didn’t need to see him to know. “I made coffee,” he said quietly. “Figured you hadn’t had any.” His voice was hoarse—like he hadn’t used it in days. Maybe he hadn’t. Since the explosion of everything—Quinn’s betrayal, Maya’s near-kill, the video, Jeremy, the sleepless nights that followed—there had been nothing but silence between them. A cold, aching distance filled with too many unspoken things. Clara didn’t respond. She stared at her reflection instead—ghostly, tired, and still so unsure. “I know I don’t deserve you,” Alex said behind her. “And I know saying that doesn’t mean anything. But I’ve gone over everything I did… everything I

Westford – The Crossfire The garden house was abandoned. Dilapidated. Clara stepped cautiously through the broken gate, her breath fogging in the cold air. “Jeremy?” she called. “Are you here?” Silence. Then—a whisper of movement behind her. A figure stepped from the shadows. Not Jeremy. Maya Stark. “Well,” Maya said with a slow, venomous smile. “Aren’t you just the easiest bait I’ve ever used?” Clara froze. “You don’t need to do this,” she said. “Whatever you want from Alex—” “Oh, I don’t want anything from Alex,” Maya hissed. “I want him to break. I want him to burn.” “And you think hurting me will do that?” Maya’s smile turned cruel. “I know it will.” A sharp click echoed—the safety of a gun released. Clara backed up slowly, hands trembling. “You won’t get away with this.” “I already have.” But just as Maya raised the weapon—another shot rang out. Glass shattered. A blur of motion. Kevin. He tackled Maya from behind, sending the gun skittering across the floor.

She pulled on the oversized sweater he’d given her — it hung off one shoulder and smelled like cedar and soap — then padded barefoot out into the small living room. There he was. Alex Banks stood in the tiny kitchen, shirtless, barefoot, hair messy from sleep. He was holding a frying pan awkwardly with one hand and a spatula with the other, staring down at the eggs with the concentration of a man preparing for open-heart surgery. Clara leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying not to smile. “Is that... smoke?” He glanced back, startled. Then—smirk. “No. It’s... enthusiasm. Escaping.” “Uh-huh,” she said, walking over. “You’re burning them.” “I like them with a little character.” “Charcoal isn’t a character trait, Alex.” He looked sheepish as she took the spatula from him and gently nudged him aside. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, cracking another egg into the pan with practiced ease. Alex leaned against the counter beside her, watching her in silence. His gaze was