When His Perfect Mask Shattered I Awoke (Anneliese) novel Chapter 631

She thought she would struggle to fall asleep, but maybe it was because she knew Jonathan had put so much care into this place for them. Or maybe it was because the sheets and pillows carried his clean, masculine scent.

Anneliese sank into the bed and drifted off within moments.

…

Her sleep was deep and sweet, undisturbed by dreams.

The sound of birds outside stirred her awake. Still half asleep, she rubbed her cheek against what she thought was a soft pillow, but the texture wasn't right.

It was firm and warm, with a hint of muscle beneath it.

Her eyes flew open.

She realized someone's arm was wrapped around her waist, her body pressed against Jonathan's chest, her face resting against the steady warmth of his skin.

She drew a slow breath, surrounded by his scent, when his low, husky voice brushed against her ears.

"Up this early and already trying to get me worked up? You better plan to make it worth my while, baby."

He had clearly been woken by her movement. His voice was rough with sleep, laced with a faint exhaustion.

Anneliese raised her head a little. "What time did you get home last night?"

"A bit after six."

Jonathan's chin brushed softly against her forehead. The light stubble on his jaw scraped her skin and made her flinch with a ticklish ache.

She tucked herself closer into his chest and whispered, "You should sleep some more."

She lifted her hand and covered his eyes.

Jonathan caught her wrist, pulled her hand down, and kissed it twice before opening his eyes. "You're not even a little curious about what kept me out all night?"

His wife was right there, warm and soft in his arms, and temptation made it impossible for him to close his eyes again.

All he wanted now was to tell her what he'd found and enjoy her reaction.

He gave a short nod.

She pressed play.

"I saw it happen. When Nakala died, you came running out of her building like a maniac. You killed her! Shut up! I just told her her husband was dead. She freaked out and fell down the stairs. That's not my fault!" came the voice on the recording. "If you'd called someone—if you'd called an ambulance—she might've lived. But you didn't, did you? Why would I save her? What if she survived and blamed me? Shut up!"

Roretha and Melody's voices filled the room. Each word dug into Anneliese like glass. The truth she'd never known flared up inside her like fire, scorching her chest with anger, grief, and disbelief.

Tears slipped down her face. One hand gripped the phone so tightly it shook, while the other clung to the fabric of Jonathan's shirt. Her whole body trembled.

Jonathan's chest ached at the sight. He pulled her close and pressed soft kisses against her wet cheeks. "Hey, don't cry, sweetheart. Melody's already in custody. She's being questioned right now. She'll pay for what she did."

The recording had been arranged by Jonathan, made by the three accomplices before their arrest.

They'd done it out of fear, worried Melody might betray them first.

Now, with the recording, the transaction logs, and evidence in hand, there was no way Melody could escape justice.