Once, my paranoid love

“You’ve never heard of him, have you?” William’s inquiry was direct; his desire to uncover the truth was evident in his words.

Ron’s response was filled with uncertainty. “No, I’m not familiar with him. But why are you asking about it? And where have you gone?” The questions hung in the air, an indication of Ron’s curiosity about William’s sudden interest in a stranger.

William, however, chose to keep his cards close to his chest, offering only a cryptic response. “I’ll see you tomorrow, son.” The implications of his words hinted at a forthcoming revelation, leaving Ron to wonder about the secrets that lay beneath his father’s inquiry.

Ron’s realization was swift. “So you’re already here,” he noted, recognizing that William was nearby, perhaps in pursuit of answers to the enigmatic Derek Houston.

William’s confirmation was concise and to the point. “Yes, I will tell you everything tomorrow,” he assured his son before concluding the conversation by hanging up the phone.NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

The conversation between William and Ron unfolded over the phone, an exchange of questions and information that sought to shed light on a figure named Derek Houston. William was on a quest for answers, and Ron’s voice held a hint of curiosity and concern.

As the call ended, William turned to Anne, the weight of his concerns evident in his expression. “He is unfamiliar with him. However, I doubt any newcomer will be as capable as this,” William mused, his thoughts a mixture of curiosity and unease.

In the midst of their quest for answers about Derek Houston, Anne’s desperation was palpable. She longed for the return of her son, Paul, and her focus was unwavering.

“I want my son back, William. I’m not interested in hearing anything.” Anne’s words were filled with raw emotion, her maternal instincts driving her to seek a reunion with Paul, no matter the cost.

William, understanding the depth of Anne’s pain, offered reassurance. “He’s also my son, Anne. I’ll make an attempt to speak with him tomorrow.”

I awoke with a slight flutter of my eyelids, finding myself ensconced in the strong, secure hold of Derek’s arms. My gaze shifted to meet a pair of intense grey eyes fixed on me, and a husky morning greeting filled the air.

“Good morning.” Derek’s deep voice resonated through the room, his eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. I briefly met his gaze before turning my attention elsewhere, my thoughts racing. The night’s sleep had been deep and undisturbed, but it wasn’t the rest I had been yearning for.

“Good morning, Mr. Derek,” I replied, maintaining a hint of formality in my address. The weight of my new role as his wife bore down on me, and I grappled with the swirling emotions within.

Derek, however, seemed determined not to let the moment slip away without acknowledging the connection that had formed between us. His question hung in the air, “Did you get enough sleep?” His gaze remained focused on me, inviting me to share my thoughts and emotions.

I slowly became aware of my position, nestled in Derek’s embrace, and the realization left me feeling a sense of unease. Despite the intimacy we had shared throughout the night, I couldn’t fully accept this new reality. It was possible that I had been the one to approach him, but the weight of the situation was starting to sink in.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Derek.” I finally spoke up as I began to carefully extricate myself from his arms. I hadn’t anticipated falling asleep in his embrace, and the situation left me grappling with a mix of emotions and uncertainties.

As I attempted to disentangle myself from Derek’s embrace, a sudden and firm pull yanked me back into his arms. It felt as though I was a rabbit, and he, a colossal and possessive tiger, had ensnared me within his grip. I was left momentarily stunned by the unexpected action, my thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and hesitation.

“Mr. Derek,” I managed to utter, my gaze shifting away from his intense eyes as I struggled to comprehend the situation. His embrace was overpowering, and the weight of it left me feeling small and vulnerable.

Derek’s response was composed and unwavering. “I’m your husband. Please address me by my name,” he clarified, the possessiveness in his tone leaving no room for argument. I hesitated for a few moments, contemplating my options. Perhaps if I used his name, he would relent and allow me some space.

“Derek,” I finally conceded, the word passing my lips with a degree of reluctance. His response was a simple acknowledgment, but it carried a weight of its own.

In an attempt to regain some semblance of control over the situation, I ventured a question, my tone tinged with a hint of unease. “Can you just let me leave now?”

Derek’s whispered request hung in the air like a delicate invitation. “Sleep a bit longer with me,” he urged, his head resting on my shoulder. The intimacy of the moment tugged at my emotions, and I hesitated before offering a hesitant nod.

As I lowered my gaze, I couldn’t help but notice the state of Derek’s hand. It was badly injured, with a deep crimson stain marring his skin. Concern washed over me, and I instinctively reached for his hand, my touch gentle yet laden with questions.

“Mr. Derek!” I exclaimed, my voice trembling with a mixture of alarm and confusion. I turned to face him, my eyes drawn to the newly revealed cut on his lip and a wound on his cheek. The marks were fresh and bore the telltale signs of a recent injury.

My voice quivered as I pressed for answers, my concern unabated. “What is this, Mr. Derek? I mean Derek? How did you get hurt? This appears to be new,” I questioned, my eyes locked onto his, searching for any hint of an explanation.

Derek relinquished his hold on me, his attempt at a reassuring smile failing to dispel the unease that had settled in the room. He spoke, attempting to downplay the significance of his injuries. “It’s nothing. I sliced my hand yesterday night by accident,” he explained, his words carrying a casual air.

I regarded him for a few moments, my gaze unwavering. Did he truly believe I was entirely ignorant? Did he consider me to be a fool, blind to the evident clues that something was amiss?

“Did you beat him?” I asked, my tone firm and unwavering. Derek’s eyes widened in surprise at the directness of my question