Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 294: Consequences

–Lore–

I creased my brows when Tyrona’s girls told me Alyssa was crying in the bathroom with Gina.

They were laughing at her.

It stung.

Not because they were laughing — but because I knew why she was crying.

I hurt her.

Still... that was the point.

If they believed Alyssa and I were over, fractured, unstable — then controlling the board would be easy.

"It’ll be easier to manage the variables now," I muttered.

The handsome Tennis Club senior walked past me, casually clicking his pen in Morse code. Subtle. Clean. Efficient.

He’d already planted a bug inside Trisha’s bag — and probably her friends’ too.

I wanted to pat his shoulder and say, Good job, handsome guy.

But masterminds don’t clap in public.

I headed to the parking lot and waited. When Alyssa and Gina arrived, they hopped into the car. The tint was heavy — practically blackout level. No one could see inside.

"Oh, what a crybaby," I mocked lightly.

Alyssa snorted. "I did my best, okay!"

"We were overly dramatic," Gina added proudly. "But flawless and natural."

I grinned. That’s my girls.

"I already reserved a table at Chef Wally’s."

"Oh! The handsome chef! Can you hook me up with him?" Gina asked instantly.

"He’s not a pedo," I said flatly as I started the engine.

"Well, how about someone else?" she sighed dramatically. "I need a boyfriend."

"You don’t need one. It’ll come naturally—"

"Oh, shut up. I’m tired of that line."

I chuckled, catching her eye in the rearview mirror. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

When we arrived, the hostess led us to a private corner table. Soft amber lighting. Polished cutlery. Clean lines. Good acoustics.

Water filled our goblets. An appetizer arrived.

"Where’s the handsome chef?" Gina asked the server.

"Chef Wally is preparing your steak personally," the server replied politely.

Gina flushed at that alone.

I glanced at Alyssa. She asked for ice. Two spoons dipped into the bowl. She pressed them to her red eyes.

I reached for her chin gently.

"What?"

For a second — just a second — I imagined kissing her right there.

Instead, I squeezed her cheeks. She smacked my chest.

Gina grinned like she was watching a drama unfold live.

Alyssa placed the spoons back over her eyes.

I sighed and slipped one wired earbud in, opening the audio feed from Trisha’s bag.

Chef Wally arrived with a cart. Gina practically radiated heart emojis.

"Good evening, Miss Gina," he greeted, slightly bowing.

Dangerous man. If he knew how intense Gina could get.

We ate. Gina praised Chef Wally’s "sex appeal" every two minutes. Alyssa stayed quiet.

In my ear, Trisha was talking to Paul.

They were planning to get me drunk at the party.

Set me up.

Push Theresa toward me.

Theresa.

We’d had our... history. But after what she did to Alyssa?

The thought made my skin crawl.

Still — I had to go through with it.

After dinner, we dropped Gina off at her condo. Then Alyssa and I drove toward our apartment. Thirty minutes.

My phone buzzed.

Test results.

STD screening. Blood panel. Everything I ran yesterday.

Clean.

Perfect.

"What’s that?" Alyssa leaned closer, squinting at my phone. Then she gave me that judgmental look.

"I’m clean, okay!" I snapped.

"So... how many times have you slept with someone?"

"Just Theresa," I sighed. "Protection. Multiple tests after."

"Wow."

Silence filled the car when we hit a red light.

"So you’re really clean?" she asked again.

"Yes."

She shrugged casually.

"Okay. Then let’s sleep together."

My hands tightened around the steering wheel.

"What did you just say?"

She repeated it, tone steady — like she was asking for dessert.

I exhaled sharply.

"I really need to regulate that mouth of yours, Alyssa. That’s not funny."

"I’m not joking. I’m eighteen."

"Okay. Calm down."

Traffic stalled us again. I turned to her fully.

"Don’t say that to me. Not like that. Not to anyone."

"But that’s what I want."

She said it plainly. No blush. No teasing.

Just certainty.

My chest tightened.

"Damn it."

I removed my seatbelt and leaned closer — not reckless, not wild — just controlled and deliberate.

I cupped her face.

And I kissed her.

Deep. Intense. Careful.

Not to take.

Not to claim.

But to feel.

She froze for half a second — then melted.

And for once, my calculations blurred.

Just for a moment.

–Jane–

I watched the twins during their afternoon martial arts session—simple drills, balanced stances, controlled breathing. Nothing too intense. Just enough discipline to sharpen their little instincts. Logan moved around them with calm authority, correcting a foot angle here, adjusting a fist there.

Sky stood a few feet away, copying them with absolute seriousness. His tiny fists clenched, legs wobbling in an uneven stance.

"Jay-jay..." He toddled back to me, reaching for my face. "Foodiee."

I laughed under my breath. "But you just ate, my Sky."

He looked down at his stomach and squeezed it as if confirming betrayal.

"Alright," I sighed, pointing toward the twins. "But you need to follow them first."

He marched back, mimicking their punches with exaggerated effort. Five minutes later, he returned, sweaty and triumphant.

"Foodie..." he pouted.

I giggled, took the towel, and wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead and cheeks. I removed his shirt and pants, wrapping him in a towel before carrying him to the kitchen.

That was when my phone began buzzing—nonstop. Not a simple notification. A warning.

I set Sky down and checked the screen.

My face drained of color.

Our mini residence—the one connected to Nest—was surrounded by armored men.

Just fuck.

My stomach twisted violently. I knew Livana was probably already giving orders. She always moved faster than panic. But seeing it live, the tactical overlays flashing red—

Sky tugged at my dress.

I inhaled sharply and lifted him onto the highchair. Water first. Stabilize him. Stabilize me.

The dogs were forming a perimeter on the screen, but Livana would never risk them. She loved those dogs. So did I.

"Foodie, peeesseeee," Sky whined dramatically.

"Alright. Calm down."

Adrenaline surged under my skin while I opened the fridge. Chopped fruits from earlier—thank God. I placed them in his bowl, wiped his hands with a damp towel, and handed it to him.

He clapped and smiled.

"Stay there, my Sky." I pointed firmly.

Choco positioned himself beside the highchair like a silent guard.

I moved fast—almost running—to retrieve the tablet. From a hidden compartment near the cleaning supplies, I grabbed my briefcase and returned to the kitchen.

Sky was still eating. Even feeding Choco pieces of watermelon.

I opened the laptop. Pulled up the live feeds.

I froze.

Bodies.

Dead. Scattered across the marble floors.

Not ours.

I swallowed. Did Livana—

No. I shook my head. This wasn’t reckless slaughter. This was precision. Efficient. Brutal only where necessary. In less than a minute, she had turned a siege into a graveyard. Blood streaked across tiles, but the dogs were safe. Nest was intact.

"Why are you in a rush, my dear?" Aunt Ines asked gently, tying her apron as if nothing catastrophic had just happened nearby.

"I was just checking on the dogs," I replied, eyes still scanning feeds.

Men were being dragged toward a container.

Our people wouldn’t hesitate. Families or not. Mercy is expensive. We don’t always afford it.

Livana might hate killing—but she protects billions in assets and millions of employees. That scale changes morality.

"Don’t worry, my dear," Aunt Ines said softly. "Livana is handling everything so well. What would you like to eat for dinner?"

The normalcy almost made me dizzy.

"Hmm." I forced a shrug. "Seafood, maybe."

"Then seafood it is." She pulled out shrimp and frozen fish.

"Pish!" Sky pointed excitedly at the vacuum-sealed pack.

"Yes, my love. I’m making fish soup."

He clapped enthusiastically. It amazed me how fish alone could bring him such pure joy.

I reached for my apron, but Aunt Ines stopped me.

"Dear, I’ll cook tonight. You’ve been taking care of the twins and Sky all day."

"I’m fine. I can cook."

"My dear," she insisted gently, "relax in the living room."

I nodded. "Okay."

She placed fruits and crackers aside for the twins.

I cleaned Sky’s sticky hands, wiped the highchair, cleaned the floor where watermelon juice had dripped. Then I lifted him, balancing my laptop in my other hand.

In his bedroom, I wiped him down again with a damp towel and dressed him in clean clothes. He crawled onto the bed immediately. Choco huffed and licked his foot.

"Are you okay, baby?" I asked.

"Jay-jay..." He pointed at his stomach. "Owchie..."

My chest tightened.

I knew that tone.

I scooped him up quickly and brought him to the bathroom just in time—he threw up into the toilet bowl. I held him steady, patting his back gently until it passed. Then I sat him carefully on the small step near the toilet.

"My poor Sky..."

Probably overeating. He always does when he’s happy.

But I couldn’t ignore the tension still coiling in my body. Armed men. Blood on marble. Strategic executions.

And now a sick child in my arms.

There was just too much happening at once.

I pressed my palm to his forehead, checking his temperature. Calm. Clinical.

No matter how chaotic the world becomes outside—

In this room, I have to be steady.