Chapter 113 #113
Chapter 113
~ Shailyn’s pov~
I went straight back inside after Dwayne left.
No stopping. No looking back. Just steady steps, like nothing strange had happened at all.
The house was awake. Not noisy, just active. Voices floated from downstairs, staff talking over each other, someone complaining about delivery times, someone else asking where the guest list had gone. The party wasn't happening yet, but the staffs were getting ready.
I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it for a second.
The silence wrapped around me like a blanket. Or a shroud. I couldn't decide which.
My phone buzzed in my hand. I thought it was the text I was waiting for. But it wasn't. I looked at the screen, contemplating if I should text him but then, I decided against it. I placed it face-down on the table.
Not yet.
A knock came almost immediately after, sharp and purposeful.
So much for that moment.
Before I could answer, the door opened.
Dante.
He walked in like he owned the air itself, jacket slung over his arm, tie already loosened. He scanned the room briefly, like he always did, cataloging everything
"Are you ready baby?" he asked.
I blinked, still processing his sudden question. "Ready for what?"
"To move back," he said, like it was obvious. "Home."
The word felt wrong in his mouth. Home. Like that empty house with its cold marble floors and angry voice could ever be home.
I straightened, buying myself a second to think. "I was actually thinking we shouldn't yet."
That stopped him.
He looked at me properly now, really looked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Why not?"
"I think it'll be better if we wait until after the baby's born," I said calmly, keeping my voice level and reasonable. "Being here helps. Your parents come by. The staff is always around if I need anything. It feels… easier."
"Easier," he repeated, turning the word over like he was examining it for defects.
"Yes."
He walked closer, eyes sharp and assessing. I could see him working through it, trying to figure out what I wasn't saying. "You don't want to move to our house?"
I shrugged, aiming for casual. "I will. Eventually. I just want to feel the warmth here a bit longer."
The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I kept my expression neutral. The truth was I needed to stay here. Needed to be close to the cameras Hannah and I were placing, close to the conversations I needed to overhear, close to whatever secrets this house was hiding.
For a moment, I thought he'd push. His jaw tightened slightly, a muscle jumping beneath the skin, but then he smoothed it out, smiling like he always did when he decided not to fight. That politician's smile. All teeth and no warmth.
"If that's what you want," he said. "We can wait, anything you want baby.”
Just like that.
No argument. No raised voice. No demands or negotiations. I was in control and he didn't even know it. If it was before, he would have held me by my throat and threaten me.
He leaned down, kissed my forehead, a gesture that felt more like claiming than affection, and walked out.
I just stood there, listening to his footsteps fade down the hallway, and wondered how long I could keep this up. How long before he realized I wasn't the compliant wife he thought he'd married.
\---
Hannah came the next morning with a bright smile and a paper bag in her hand.
"I brought pastries," she announced, holding up the bag like a peace offering. "And an excuse."
I stepped aside, letting her in. "You didn't need one."
She laughed lightly and closed the door behind her. The smile stayed fixed on her face, but her eyes sharpened, scanning the room quickly. "Okay," she said, dropping the cheerful act. "Let's talk."
We sat on the edge of the bed, close together, voices low.
"We are so lucky to put cameras without being caught. Tuler doesn't want cameras in the house," I said, referring to our earlier conversation about Tyler's paranoia.
"Of course he didn't," Hannah replied, nodding knowingly. "Men like Tyler don't. Especially when they're hiding things. Especially for secretive things."
"That's why it works."
She nodded. "Exactly. They'll never suspect we'd be bold enough to do what they explicitly forbid."
She opened her bag and pulled out small devices, sleek and dark, almost invisible unless you knew exactly where to look. They looked expensive. Professional.
"They're discreet," she said, holding one up to the light. "No blinking lights. No noise. Battery lasts two weeks, and they feed directly to a secure cloud server only we can access."
"Where do we start?"
"The study," she said immediately, her voice businesslike now. "Then the living room. Hallway outside Dante's office."
"And the front of the study," I added. "Tyler likes talking there when he thinks he's being private."
Hannah smiled, impressed. "I knew you were paying attention."
We moved carefully through the house, but not nervously. This wasn't impulsive desperation. It was calculated. Planned. We'd spent days thinking through every angle, every risk, every contingency.
The study first.
Hannah climbed onto a chair and tucked a camera between books on a shelf, adjusting it until the angle was perfect. Her movements were practiced, confident.
"He sits here a lot," I said quietly, watching her work.
"Then it's perfect." She climbed down, testing the view on her phone. "Crystal clear."
Next was the living room. One camera near the bar, hidden behind a decorative bottle. One angled toward the seating area where Tyler held his informal meetings, the ones that weren't quite official enough for his office.
"People always forget they're being watched when they're comfortable," Hannah said, securing the second device. "When they have a drink in their hand and they think they're among friends."
"Or family," I added darkly.
The hallway came next, the corridor outside Dante's office where so many quiet conversations happened, where deals were made and threats were whispered. We were just adjusting the angle, Hannah on her toes reaching for the perfect placement, when hurried footsteps echoed behind us.
We quickly acted normal, Hannah stepping down smoothly while I pretended to examine a painting on the wall.
Dwayne appeared, jacket already on, phone in hand, clearly in a hurry.
Hannah turned calmly, her smile easy and natural. "Morning."
He looked at us, then at me, his gaze lingering just a moment too long. "You okay?"
"Yes."
He checked his watch, distracted. "I’m going out now. But… be careful."
The warning was subtle but clear. He knew something. Or suspected something.
"We are," Hannah said, her voice light.
His eyes lingered on me for half a second longer, something unspoken passing between us, then he nodded and walked out, his footsteps quick on the marble floor.
"He's intense. He gave you that “I want you look.” Hannah said once he was gone, watching his retreating form.
"Hannah!!!” I didn't elaborate. Couldn't, really. I wasn't sure I understood all of Dwayne's reasons myself.
“Just saying.” She shrugged.
\---
By afternoon, the house was in full preparation mode.
Not for a party. For work. We were mobilizing the staff for full-time operations at the company,
Hannah went home once everything was set, the cameras in place, our secret secure.
I went back upstairs, suddenly exhausted.
My room was quiet when I entered.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels deliberate. Staged.
I stopped just inside the door, every instinct screaming that something was weird.
The bed was neatly made, corners tucked with military precision. The staff had been in, clearly. Everything was perfectly arranged.
And right in the center of it—
A box.
Small. Black. Matte finish that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
I didn't move.
My breath caught in my throat. Nobody left things on my bed. Not the staff. Not Dante. Nobody.
"Who put this here?" I said aloud, my voice sounding strange in the empty room.
No answer. Just the quiet ticking of the clock on the nightstand and the distant sounds of the house below.
I stepped closer. Slowly.
"What is this?" I whispered.
The box sat there, innocent. No label. No card. No indication of who had left it or why. It still made me skeptical, especially with everything that has been happening.
I reached out, my hand trembling slightly, and lifted the lid—
And froze.
My heart skipped.