The Paper Wife’s Empire novel Chapter 197

Hearing Brianna’s words, Jotham felt none of the old excitement, just managed a perfunctory smile.

He used to believe that Brianna was his true love. After all, she’d put up with so much for his sake. But ever since she threatened the Holt family with their child and the secrets between them, Ramona had far outshone Brianna in his eyes.

At least Ramona loved and hated with passion, never hiding her feelings, while Brianna’s affection seemed nothing but hypocrisy. She harbored resentment, yet still insisted it was all because of love.

“By the way, didn’t you save some of Ramona’s research papers?” Brianna hesitated a moment before asking.

Jotham looked briefly startled. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to take a look,” Brianna said, scooting closer to him on the couch. “I’m still interested in data analysis and thought I’d use this time to do some extra study.”

“Can’t you just read books? Why insist on her unpublished work?” Jotham sounded exasperated.

Ramona’s papers were never officially published—specialized research, really. When they first married, Ramona had trusted him enough to give them. He’d treasured them ever since, never wanting to share with anyone.

“Please?” Brianna pleaded, wrapping her arms around him and turning on the charm. “I’m just curious what makes Ramona so brilliant. If I keep learning, I won’t be any worse than her.”

Unable to withstand her wheedling, Jotham finally got up and fetched a flash drive from his briefcase. He took this thing everywhere—he knew its value.

“Thank you, sweetheart!” Brianna’s eyes sparkled as she planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t keep it long, and don’t make copies. I want it back in a week.”

“I promise.”

...

In the middle of the night, rain began to pour in torrents.

Nova woke with a start at the crash of thunder, immediately checking that all the windows were closed tight.

Suddenly, a heavy, frantic pounding at the door made her jump.

“Who’s there?” she called. It was far too late for a delivery.

She peered through the peephole—nothing but darkness in the hallway.

Her nerves were on edge when the knocking came again, even harder. She took a couple of steps back. “Who is it? Cut it out! If you don’t stop, I’m calling the police!”

“…It’s me. Holden.”

The man’s voice was weak and hoarse, echoing through the hallway, tinged with rough, labored breathing.

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