Rising from the Ashes The Heiress They Tried to Erase

Chapter 615:

But her real fear gnawed at her. He was too loyal, too trusting. What if his boss was playing him, using him as a pawn in some dirty game?

A quiet warmth bloomed in Chris’ heart, unfamiliar yet grounding. He noticed the way her eyes softened, the way her voice carried a tremor of care. The realization tugged at him, softening the edges of his usually guarded demeanor. His lips curved into a gentle smile, his fingers brushing against hers.

Maia pressed on, her words tumbling out faster. “Once your headaches are under control, I can help you find something else.”

Chris’ playful spark dimmed. He clasped her hand, his grip firm yet tender, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet intensity. “Alright, Maia. I will do it. I’ll talk to my boss about stepping away, find something stable, something that gives us room to breathe.”

Her lips parted, ready to protest that he didn’t need to work at all. Her income could carry them both, easily.

But Chris spoke first, his voice low, steady, cutting through the night air. “I will not let people whisper that your husband is some deadbeat living off you.”

strands of hair by her ear, and she stared at him, her heart swelling

guise of an unremarkable bastard son, weathering a storm of scorn and prejudice while deftly sidestepping Kolton’s cunning traps. The weight of that endurance must have

carefree air so well — could it be a mask, painstakingly crafted to shield

a whisper, as she pressed her lips into a thin

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing hers before closing around her hand with gentle

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stirring a flicker of

unnecessary, and let him guide her

fell in sync along the quiet street, where streetlights cast their shadows in long, wavering ribbons across the pavement. The world’s clamor faded, leaving only the soft

the lamps. A spark of her old radiance flickered in her eyes, and his

loved her from the shadows, guarding her in silence. Now, with her hand in his, he vowed to

into a deep sleep, her dreams weaving a tapestry of memories: her parents’ laughter,