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2,102,118	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101554}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	She’s just my best friend, my husband said. What kind of friend would claim a married man as HER husband just to “get some support in a strange city”?! From the moment I met her, I should have thrown her out! But no, they told me I was “overreacting.” Overreacting?! If I really had, maybe I wouldn’t have woken up alone, only to find my husband hugging his so-called best friend in the middle of the night! Chapter 1 The beginning of it all. (ARIELLE’S POV) The scent of the dinner wafted through the room, as I focused on my husband, Jared. His dark hair falling just right, framing his straight nose and sharp jawline. Even in his casual clothes, the man had an undeniable presence—broad shoulders, a sculpted chest. He could’ve walked right out of a magazine, yet here he was, with me. It was our anniversary, and in commemoration of that, I had suggested that we had an indoor dinner– just the two of us. Despite his usual aloof self, Jared had created time from his usual busy work schedule, and that was a gesture I considered lovely. Especially when he looked up at me with those smoldering eyes, it was hard to stay upset. I had chosen to sit across from him instead of our usual dining position–beside him because I wanted to see all of his reactions when I finally broke the good news. Yep, I just discovered that I was pregnant yesterday from our family doctor, and I stalled the news, so I could break it to Jared during the anniversary dinner - Whatever way would have been better? Celebrating an anniversary, and the conception of a baby. Sounds like a double party to me. “This meal is delicious, Arielle,” Jared commented, interrupting my line of thoughts. “I don't understand why I'm always awed by your culinary skill. You are a chef after all.” I flashed him the most beautiful smile I could muster, feeling flustered by his compliment. “Thank you, Jared. That means a lot coming from you.” He smiled back, but his was not as wide and bright as mine. “You didn't have to make so many dishes, though. Two or three would have been just enough. It's only the two of us after all.” I clicked my tongue, there he went again. I was just about to reply to him, to tell him that it was our anniversary and I wanted to make it special, when his phone rang, the shrill sound disrupting the calm atmosphere. Jared's face fell when he looked at the screen, and then his expression turned apologetic. “Excuse me, Arielle. I have to take this. It’s work,” he said and rose to his feet. I felt a lump form in my throat, as I nodded in understanding, trying to mask my disappointment. “It’s fine, go on. I'll be here,” I said, my voice coming out flatter than I intended. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I'll get you new jewelry, whatever you want,” he called out as he rushed out of the dining room. I reclined back on my seat, frustrated and disappointed. It’s 9 o’clock. Who leaves their home at this time for work? It’s our special day for crying out loud, and making it up to me with jewelry? My eyes inadvertently rolled. Men need to learn that gifts are not always the key to a woman's heart; quality attention is. I sighed for the umpteenth time. He hadn’t mentioned when he’d return, as usual. Would he even remember our anniversary when he was done with work? The food once appealing, now looked unappetizing. Our anniversary dinner, ruined by a work call. I got to the sitting room to wait for Jared. Pregnancy reactions made me drowsy, and even before I knew it, I fell asleep and woke up with a start hours later. My eyes groggily opened to an eerily calm house. I was still on the couch, alone. Looking up at the clock, my heart sank. It was a few minutes past 12 o'clock. A painful realization dawned on me: our anniversary was over. Anger enveloped me as I realized that Jared wasn't home yet. I had been so excited to share my news with him, but now, that too was ruined. I walked over to the dining room, the remnants of our anniversary dinner still laid out on the table. Fine, guess this was the karma for me, a star chef, taking a two-day leave and not cooking for my appreciative guests but cooking for my husband. Sighing in resignation, I cleared the table and sent some of the food to the trash. In the early morning, I arrived at the restaurant, the familiar chaos of the kitchen greeted me like an old friend, and so did my colleagues. Their expression is a mix of concern and curiosity. “Arielle! You came so early! I thought you were taking a two-day off.” I forced a smile, still feeling the pain of my ruined anniversary dinner. The kitchen could be my refuge and cooking was my escape. Once I returned to work, my hands started to be busy in the rhythm of chopping and sizzling. Hours later, a waitress rushed into the kitchen, a distressed look on her face. “Ma, there's a customer insisting on seeing you,” she said, her voice urgent. “What's the problem?” I asked, surprised. “She wouldn't say, and she's being really rude,” the waitress responded. “She says she wants to see the chef in charge.” I hurriedly took off my apron, washed my hands, and followed the waitress out to the dining area. “Hi, I'm Arielle, the head chef,” I said, stopping in front of the customer's table. “Sorry you’re upset. Can you tell me what’s wrong with the food?” The customer, a pregnant woman, looked me up and down, her eyes blazing hot with anger. “Wrong? Everything! Your food tastes so bland,” she spat. “I can't believe you call yourself a chef.” I listened patiently, and afterward, I defended my cuisine, explaining our menu and ingredients, but she remained adamant. “I don't care about anything you say,” she snapped. “I'm going to wait for my husband to arrive and have you fired.” What? I slightly frowned and maintained my professional demeanor. “Ma'am, I assure you that our food is prepared to the highest standard and with the best ingredients. If you'd like, I can make it up to you with a complimentary dish of your choice.” The woman flipped her hair nonchalantly. “That won't be necessary. I still want you fired for almost poisoning me and my unborn child. Just wait for my husband to arrive and he will have you dealt with.” I took a deep breath, excused myself and headed back to my office. The whole thing was absurd. I’d been a chef for years and seen my share of unreasonable complaints, but this was something else. Who did she think she was and who was her almighty husband could have me fired on a whim? I was just about to get back to work when a knock sounded on my office door. “He’s here, Ma’am,” the waitress called out. I sighed. It was already a rough day, and I only hoped to wrap up this nonsense quickly. I composed myself and stepped out. Whatever power this husband of hers thought he had, I wasn’t worried. I knew my work, and I knew my worth. But as I walked back into the dining area, my breath hitched as I caught sight of a tall figure speaking to the woman. She saw me first and informed her husband, gesturing to me. And before he turned to face me fully, I already knew who the man was. A burning sensation filled my chest as I stared at the gorgeous face that I slept with most nights. It was Jared, my husband! Chapter 2 The third wheel (ARIELLE POV) Oh well, color me surprised! I blinked severally to ensure that I was not seeing wrongly. My eyes widened in shock, my mind trying to process the scene before me. My husband, Jared, was standing beside another woman, a pregnant woman who claimed to be his wife, in a restaurant where I worked. The woman’s words earlier reverberated in my ears, “my husband will have you fired!” My heart pounded, breathing suddenly becoming difficult. I felt like I had just been punched in the gut. I took a step forward, my voice raspy and barely a whisper, “Jared?” Jared met my gaze, his composure unwavering. “Hey, Arielle,” his tone was disturbingly casual, as if it were completely normal to be caught with another woman who’d called him her husband. My eyes narrowed at him, as I expected him to offer me an explanation. Before Jared could respond, Sofia stepped forward, her face a mask of surprisement, “Oh, you must be Arielle! I’m so sorry for the confusion. I’m Sofia, Jared’s old friend.” Looking at my expressionless face, Sofia continued, her voice syrupy sweet, “Jared’s been so kind, helping me get settled in town. I just returned from abroad and I’m going through some tough times. He’s been such a wonderful support.” My eyes never left Jared's face, my gaze unnerving. “Support?” I asked, unable to mask the disbelief in my tone. Jared nodded. “Yes, support. She's pregnant, new in town and almost helpless. She needed someone to talk to and to help her navigate her way around town. I was just being that friend.” Still, I was not convinced, and my eyes shifted to Sofia, who stood there with an air of vulnerability, her eyes pleading for understanding. “And the child?” Jared frowned and his voice became serious, “Of course not! The child isn't mine, Arielle.” I relaxed a bit, deciding to trust my husband. Just then, Sofia cleared her throat to get my attention. “Umm… Arielle, right? I apologize for my behavior earlier. I was totally out of line, you see, being a pregnant woman in a new city alone isn’t easy. I needed some support, so I may have exaggerated Jared’s role a bit. You understand, don’t you? How do we women sometimes need to feel protected?” she said innocently. I looked away, reluctant to accept her apology. She was rude, claimed my husband as hers, and even threatened to have me fired. But Jared noticed my reluctance, and signaled me to forgive her. “It's okay, I forgive you,” I mumbled, but then my eyes caught the glint of a vibrant blue gem on her wrist. Wait a second, is that the Blue Diamond limited edition? The one I glimpsed in Jared’s bag last night? I thought it was an anniversary gift for me! Sofia was definitely aware of my stare. She turned to me, making puppy eyes. “Oh this bracelet? It’s from Jared. Arielle, surely you don't mind Jay-Jay getting his best friend a little gift for coming back home?” Jay-Jay? Seriously? I smiled coldly, my lips pressed together in a thin line. I didn't bother responding to Sofia's question, instead, I turned to Jared and said, “I need to speak with you in private, in my office.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and strode away. As I left, Sofia’s voice drifted after me, saccharine-sweet: “Jay-Jay, I had no idea your wife was this sensitive.” Jared trailed behind me, our footsteps echoing in the hallway that led to my office. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, Jared following closely behind. Alone with him now, I turned to face him, my face bearing a displeased expression. “What's going on, Jared? Why are you buying gifts for a pregnant woman, a pregnant woman who claimed to be your wife a few minutes ago.” “Arielle, I promise, it's not what it seems like. The bracelet was for you. I just…I just didn't want to hurt Sofia's feelings. Like I said, she's going through a tough time.” “And you expect me to believe that? You abandoned our anniversary dinner, promising me a compensation gift, and now I see you giving it to another woman?” Jared's face turned pleading. “Please, understand. I'll get you another one, a much better one.” I shook my head, my expression cold. “It's not always about gifts, Jared. Occasionally, your aloof nature makes me wonder if you're invested in our relationship and marriage, as much as I am.” Jared's face fell, his expression hurt. “Come on, don't talk like that. I am committed to our marriage too.” I ignored his words and went on. “It doesn't seem so most times because I don't understand why you're unwilling to hurt another woman's feelings, without caring if your actions hurt me, your wife.” Before he could respond, a thought struck me. “Jared, did you even come home last night after you left?” He nodded. “I did. You were asleep on the couch. I didn’t want to disturb you. I just left. Return to the company to continue working.” He’s really busy. I felt a stab of guilt but pushed it aside, focusing on what mattered now. “Will you be home tonight?” “Sure.” “Alright, let's see later at home and talk about this then.” Jared tried to apologize again, but I cut him off. I was too tired for arguments, and besides, I had to go back to prepping for lunch service. He finally placed a feathered kiss on my forehead before stepping out. A sharp exhale, after Jared left. There would be time to sort through my feelings later. For now, I needed to get back to work and focus on something I could control. After regaining composure, I made my way out of the office to continue my work. By the time my shift was over, the sun had dipped below the horizon. I was tidying up when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and discovered it was Ashley, my best friend. A smile broke out on my face, and I answered the phone. “Hey, where are you?” Ashley’s voice sounded from the other end. I was taken aback by her unusually serious tone. Ashley never directly called me at worktime, why was she asking? “Still at work, about to leave though. What’s going on? You sound worried.” I asked. Ashley’s next response sent a chill down my spine. “Arielle, I just saw Jared and a pregnant woman going home together…” Chapter 3 When doubt creeps in. (ARIELLE'S POV) “Ashley, I need to go. Thank you for the information. I will call you back later.” After the phone call with Ashley and figured out the home she said was actually my mother-in-law’s house, I tried my best to handle my whirling thoughts. Jared was always considerate and meticulous. I thought I knew this man after three years’ marriage. However, I’ve never seen him as emotional as he was in the restaurant, nor have I seen him break his words, twice in a row. He promised to wait for me at our home, now this? I sighed as I stepped down from my car. Upon arriving at the old mansion, nothing prepared me for the sight I was met with. Sofia was seated comfortably in the sitting room, and she was not alone. She was with Jared's mother, and they were conversing and laughing happily. While Jared was sitting alone on the single sofa next to them. “What’s going on here?” I managed to ask, a lump forming on my throat. As I approached, Jared rose smoothly, reaching for my coat. “Mom wanted to see Sofia, so I brought her over,” he explained, his tone measured. “You could have told me first,” I said quietly. Jared’s eyes met mine briefly, a flicker of apology passing through them, before he went upstairs with my coat. Great. Now I had to deal with this on my own. Sofia turned to me with a carefree look, like she owned the house. “Oh, hey, Arielle. I’m glad you are home. Jared's Mom and I were catching up.” My eyes grew suspicious as I tried not to glare at Sofia. What is she doing here? Why is my mother-in-law so friendly with her? Jared’s mother looked up at me, her expression neutral, not as warm as when she was talking to Sofia. “Welcome back,” she said curtly, then turned her attention back to Sofia. “Go on, dear, you were saying?” I was hurt and embarrassed as I stood there, feeling like an outsider in my own home. I thought I knew Jared too well, but now I was terrified that he might not have told me the entire truth about his relationship with Sofia. Because, how come she was merely his friend but had such a close relationship with his mother? “Oh, I was saying,” Sofia's shrill voice interrupted my thoughts. Why do I think she was intentionally being loud so I could hear her? “I returned from abroad to celebrate Jared’s birthday, and I met Arielle at the restaurant earlier. It was our first time meeting,” Sofia continued. I sneered at her forced cheerfulness. I hope she also told Jared’s mother how rude she was, how she threatened to have me fired, and how she claimed Jared's was her husband. “Oh, really? That was nice,” Jared's mother said, obviously intrigued by the conversation. “I still can't believe Jared married a mere chef. I mean, don’t get me wrong, but it is not exactly a prestigious job and not befitting for the wife of a billionaire.” She was smiling brightly, but I could see the challenge in her eyes. She wanted me to react. I raised an eyebrow and gave her a cool laugh. “True. Jared always complains that I cook for the guests, not for him. It really takes skill to satisfy a billionaire’s taste every single day.” Sofia’s lips twitched, and I could see her struggling to keep her composure. “Oh, I didn’t mean to belittle your skills or your profession. I just think Jared could have... chosen differently.” I shrugged slightly. “He did. He chose me.” Sophia was choked. “All right, all right. Arielle. Sofia was merely voicing her opinion,” Jared’s mother chipped in. “Indeed,” I said, sarcastically. She then turned to Sofia, “Okay Sofia, dear, let's not talk about Arielle anymore and focus on our previous discussion. Tell me everything about your trip.” I rolled my eyes and took a seat. However, Sofia’s words caught my attention: “So I arrived in town last night…” Last night. The same time Jared had supposedly been working late. The rest of their conversation faded into background noise as my mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. Sofia glanced away, seemingly unbothered by my silence. As the pieces fell into place, a realisation hit me: the call Jared received last night was not about work, but because he went to pick Sofia at the airport. My heart sank into my stomach. Why did he have to lie? Slowly, doubts about my marriage crept in. Do I really know the man I'm married to, or are there things about him I still need to know? Jared’s mother suddenly turned to face me, a smile on her face. “Arielle, in case you have been wondering how come I know Sofia, I will tell you now. Sofia and Jared have been friends for a long time. They share a special bond, and I wish you could get along with her as well as Jared does.” I forced a smile, not trusting myself to speak. Get along with Sofia? I couldn’t even stand being in the same room with her. “I’ll go prepare your favorites, ladies,” Jared’s mother said, getting up and heading to the kitchen. The moment she left, Sofia turned to me, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, Arielle, did I tell you Jared and I go way, way back? Oh, I didn't? You see, we met as early as in kindergarten, and he's been chasing me for twenty years,” Sofia narrated. My eyes widened in surprise. Why didn't Jared tell me all of these? “Can you believe it? Twenty whole years! Jared liked me a whole lot and used to do anything I asked of him. We went to prom together, and he even carved our initials on the bark of an old willow tree in the park. I was a beautiful girl, I still am, and I had numerous suitors back then. Jared was so jealous that he used to even fight off any male that got close to me.” Sofia continued. As Sofia spoke of their past, a mix of curiosity and jealousy churned in my stomach. I pushed the feelings down, forcing my lips into a polite curve. “That's the past, Sofia, He’s married to me now and nothing would change that.” Sofia’s smile faltered for a second, but she didn’t stop. “And yet, he ended up marrying you just a month after I travelled abroad…” “That’s enough, Sofia. I’m sure that my wife doesn’t need all those details,” Jared’s voice suddenly sounded from behind, interrupting Sofia. As I turned to face him, his gaze darted away. Chapter 4 Trouble in paradise (ARIELLE’S POV) While Sofia clamped her mouth shut, startled by Jared’s sudden appearance, I slowly rose from the chair, still reeling from the shock of all I had heard. I was heartbroken that I had to hear all of that from Sofia, who also doubled as my husband’s life crush. I couldn’t believe it. I got to Jared and ignored him completely as I walked past, but he tried to talk to me. “Arielle, please listen–” he said, trying to reach for me. I shrugged his hand off and walked upstairs, my eyes welled up with tears. I got to the room and collapsed on the bed, numb, exhausted and disappointed. Just then, a text arrived on my phone. It was from Jared: “I’m sorry.” I sighed and put the phone off, before falling into a turbulent sleep. The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed, and the absence of Jared felt heavy. He must have slept in the guest room again. Or worse—what if he had slept in the same room as Sofia? The thought made my heart race, but I quickly shook it off. Doubts might be creeping in, but I knew the man I married. After getting ready for work, I headed downstairs and found Jared waiting for me in the foyer. “Hey, good morning,” he said, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Yeah, good morning,” I responded, trying to act cool too. “Look, Arielle, about yesterday. Sofia’s just struggling with the pregnancy because it's her first. It's making her become needy and overly pampered. Please don't take it too personally. Don't believe everything she said. Kindly forgive her,” Jared pleaded. Instead of softening my heart like the words were intended to, they only made me bitter at the fact that my husband was in defense of another woman. Speaking of pregnancy, was he aware that I too was pregnant? Of course not, he had prioritized his ex over me on the day I was supposed to break the news to him. “I’m going to work now, Jared. And when I get back, I would rather not see that woman here again.” My day at work was uneventful, a blur of cooking and cleaning, and soon it was closing time. I was in my office wrapping things up when a knock echoed on the door. “Who is it?” I called out. “Rebecca, Ma,” my junior chef replied. “A hot man is waiting outside for you with a massive bouquet, “ she announced, and I didn't miss the giggle in her voice. I paused, confused. Did I have an appointment? I quickly grabbed my bag. “I’m coming out now.” As I stepped outside, Jared stood by the entrance, bouquet in hand. I was momentarily taken back, but regained myself and swirled around to face Rebecca. “Unfortunately it’s not some hot man, just my husband,” I said. I wouldn't blame her, Jared had only visited my new place of work the day of Sofia's saga, so it’s reasonable no one here was acquainted with him. “Hey, what are you doing here, Mr Smith?” I asked, stopping right in front of Jared. “Apologising to Mrs Smith for being a jerk. Arielle, I am so sorry I didn't tell you about Sofia earlier. I have no excuse. Can you forgive me? To make it up to you, how about a weekend getaway date at our first house?” Jared said, all smiles. At that moment, my heart softened and every fiber of anger I harbored within me ebbed away. Our first house—a cozy penthouse we had chosen and decorated together after we married—held so many good memories. It was seldom visited later due to its long distance from my current workplace. To say I was pleased was an understatement, I was beyond the moon with excitement. Finally, a vacation that will help me forget all the dramas of the past days and who knows, it could be the perfect place to break the news of my pregnancy to Jared! “So, what do you say, Mrs Smith?” Jared inquired, looking at me expectantly. “I’d say,” I blinked, “Mr Smith does know how to please a woman.” He melted me in his kiss. “Thank you love, for forgiving me and accepting the offer,” Jared said, a smile spreading across his face. “Here is your flower,” he handed me the bouquet. I accepted it, inhaling the fragrant lavender—my favorite. “Thank you,” I mouthed. Jared led me toward the parking lot, opening the door for me before getting in on his side. As we drove to our penthouse, anticipation bubbled within me. An hour later, we pulled up at the parking lot of the house. It was located inside a reputable estate. But as we alighted, something didn't seem right. I tried to place what it was and a few seconds of racking my brain brought it to my cognizance as I noticed a light on in one of the rooms. “Jared, I think someone’s in the house,” I said as we approached the front door. “What do you mean?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face. “Look,” I pointed, “the light is on.” “Come on, Arielle. You are being paranoid. You probably forgot to turn off the lights the last time we were here,” Jared said, waving off my observation. I was just about to protest when the front door swung open, and there stood Sofia, a bright smile on her face. Jared and I halted in our tracks as we exchanged surprised looks. “What the hell? What are you doing here?” I snarled at Sofia, unable to control my rage this time. “Take a chill pill, Arielle. I got the address of the place from Jared's mum. She asked me to live here pending when I get a place of my own. She insisted the cozy environment would be good for my pregnancy.” Sofia explained. “You have no right to be here! This place is for Jared and me. I can’t believe she gave you the keys,” I shot back, furious. The hell, why do I keep seeing this lady at every turn I take? “Oh, my bad, I didn’t know you two would visit here anytime soon... I'm so sorry, I'll leave right away,” Sofia said, feigning a sorry look that I could tell was absolutely fake. “Arielle, let’s go inside first,” Jared suggested. I glared at Sofia before storming inside, storming past her at the door. “Sofia, this place is like a safe haven for me and Arielle, and we cherish it so dearly, especially Arielle, that seeing another face in it seems a bit improper,” Jared began in a calm tone, the moment we were all inside the house. It was almost like he was being cautious with his words and didn't want to hurt her. “It’s fine, I understand. I’ll leave right away,” Sofia said, putting on a pathetic act. “That will be gladly appreciated,” I said, feeling no atom of pity for her because I could see through her emotional game. But that wasn't the case for Jared, he doesn't want a pregnant woman to suffer so much, so he intervened. “Arielle, that won't be nice. It's late, and she's pregnant,” he said in a placating tone. And then he turned to Sofia, “You can spend the night here, and we will discuss the issue of your housing in the morning.” Sofia shook her head, pretending to be weak. “No, I wouldn’t want to cause any tension between you two.” “No, she's fine with it,” Jared said and turned to give me a pleading look. “Right, Arielle?” I ignored them both, deciding to take a tour of the house to calm my nerves. As I walked through, I noticed the changes. Jared and my decorations have all been discarded and replaced by different designs. Anger rose from the deepest part of me as I knew no one else would be responsible for the act, except Sofia. Ready to confront her, I marched back to the sitting room, my vision blinded by raw fury. I had just gotten to the sitting room, when Sofia suddenly squealed and rushed up to Jared, snatching the bouquet in his hand. I must have left it in the car, and Jared had thought to bring it inside for me. Just when I was about to yell at Sofia to hand me my flowers, she exclaimed, “Oh, Jared, you are so sweet. I can't believe you still remember my favorite flower…” Chapter 5 Having to deal with a bitchy third wheel (ARIELLE'S POV) I stopped in my tracks at Sofia’s words. Did she just say her “favorite flower?” “The bouquet, hand it over. It is mine, Jared got it for me.” I said, smiling coldly. Sofia sneered and turned to Jared. “Jay-Jay, the flower is for me, right? Remember, back then during high school days, you used to gift me lavender flowers when you came to pick me up on prom nights. When you called me your best friend, Jay?” Jared looked thorn, as he looked from me to Sofia. I couldn't believe he was even contemplating it! That flower was mine for Christ’s sake, he should simply ask her to hand it back to me, the right owner. “Ummm… Arielle, let Sofia have it. I will get you another one tomorrow, I promise,” Jared finally said. My mouth fell open in surprise. I couldn’t believe my ears. Yet again, Jared had chosen his “best friend” over me? “You are unbelievable, Jared!” I exclaimed. Sofia turned and smirked at me, a triumphant look in her eyes. Only I could see her because she had her back to Jared. “I can’t stand this,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. “You two can have the house to yourselves, I will look for a hotel to crash in.” I turned around and stormed off to the place where I kept my bag, ready to leave. As expected, Jared appeared beside me, his face apologetic. “Arielle, you don’t always have to lose your cool. She’s pregnant, and I heard pregnancy hormones affect women’s behavior a lot.” I wanted to scream and ask him what about me? Was I not pregnant too? And then the bitter reality dawned on me that yet again, my chance of breaking the news of my pregnancy to Jared had been ruined. “Say something love, please,” Jared frowned. “I have nothing to say. Leave my way, I have to get a hotel before it gets too late,” I finally said, making to walk past him. “I’m truly sorry, Wifey. Fine, how about I make us dinner? I know you hate making dinner at night, so I’m volunteering to take up the task tonight.” I sighed, as I considered his offer. I hated cooking dinner late, and I hate eating out too. If I sleep at a hotel tonight, I am definitely going to eat out. Reluctantly, I accepted Jared’s offer. Making dinner will be the perfect punishment for Jared, as he will have to do the dishes afterward. And besides, deep in my heart I wouldn’t want to leave my husband alone with Sofia. I was just about to let him know that I had accepted his offer when Sofia spoke from behind me. “Why would you offer to cook, Jared? Cooking is a domestic chore, and is meant for women alone. You see, I have been working hard all day, cleaning this whole house and putting away decorations I found Medieval and out of vogue. I’m so tired and can’t lift a pin, else, I would have offered to do the cooking. As for you, Jared, I’m sure you are tired as well. Being a billionaire CEO is no easy feat, and after a long day at work, you deserve to rest. Arielle, here, should do the cooking. She seems so energetic and even ready to get into a fight, the energy will be a lot useful if she uses it to make us dinner. Besides, she is a domestic worker and cooks for a living.” I was dumbstruck as I listened to Sofia ramblings. With the way it spoke, a stranger would have mistaken her for the mistress of the house. Jared must have realized that Sofia was crossing the line because he immediately intervenes. “That’s enough, Sofia. You can’t speak to my wife in that manner. Do not go to that extent next time,” Jared chided. Although I was not all too satisfied with his tone, I was glad that Jared had finally spoken up and put Sofia in her place. Finally, my turn to make faces at her. Sofia immediately puts on a hurt expression. “I can’t believe this, Jared. I wasn’t being rude to her, I was merely telling the truth! You have changed a lot since you got married, Jared. You have forgotten the bond we used to share!” “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Sofia. But…” I didn’t wait for Jared to finish as I walked off, leaving them to themselves. I was utterly disappointed in Jared. This minute he scolded her, the other, he is trying to pacify her. I arrived in the kitchen and began to take out the ingredients for dinner preparation. I intended to make macaroni, chicken, and cheese. A few minutes into it, Jared stepped into the kitchen, looking remorseful. “I would like to help with dinner preparation, Arielle,” he said, coming to stand beside me. I knew telling him no will be of no use as he will only grow persistent, so I merely shrugged and carried on with what I was doing. “What are we having,” Jared asked. I knew he was trying to initiate a conversation because a mere glance at the ingredients on the kitchen counter could tell anyone what we were having. “Macaroni, chicken and cheese,” I said simply. I was in a complicated mood, and in no way interested in a conversation with him. After getting the ingredients ready and having placed the macaroni on fire, I turned to Jared, a serious look on my face. “For the last time, Jared, I want you to clarify your relationship with Sofia.” Jared sighed and took my hands in his, caressing them softly. “I promise you, Arielle, Sofia and I are just good friends. I might have a crush on her back then in high school, but that was all there was to it.” I nodded, and took my hands from his as I went to check on the food on fire. Jared helped with the remaining preparation of the food and a few minutes later, dinner was ready. I set the table, while Jared cleaned the kitchen after me. “I will go call Sofia,” he said to me, as I settled in the dining room to eat dinner. I nodded, without looking up, my attention fixated on my food. Seconds later, I heard approaching footsteps and I knew it was Sofia and Jared. I refused to look up, focusing on my food. I heard Sofia pull the chair opposite me, and settled in it. “This smells nice, I hope it tastes nice too,” Sofia said, as she uncovered her food. Jared sat down on the seat beside me, and soon, everyone was digging into their plates. Suddenly, Sofia made a throaty sound and the next second she was on her feet as she scurried away from the dinning. Jared went in hot pursuit, while I sat back, wondering what was happening. I didn’t have to wonder for long because Jared and Sofia returned minutes later, with Jared looking worried, and Sofia looking pale. “What happened?” I inquired, looking from Jared to Sofia. “What happened is that you tried to poison me, making it the second time. First, it was at the restaurant, and now, in your house. What did I ever do to you?” Sofia said, feigning tears. “I don’t understand. Why would I poison you? Jared was in the kitchen with me, and I served everyone the same food,” I said defensively. “You added milk to the macaroni, and I am allergic to milk!” Sofia yelled. “That’s right, Arielle. Sofia is allergic to milk. You shouldn’t have added it to the meal,” Jared said. I was too stunned to look at Jared. We were in the kitchen together, and he saw me use the ingredients, milk was never part of them. I rose to my feet, having lost appetite. “Just for the records, Sofia, I never used milk in that dish. As a matter of fact, that’s my milk–free recipe. You can ask any of my customers in the restaurant. But what difference does it make? You already decided that I poisoned you. Good night,” I said, smiling coldly before exiting the dining room. Chapter 6 When he chose her over me! (ARIELLE'S POV) I retired to the room upstairs, my head throbbing with a migraine. I couldn’t believe what had just happened in the dining room. Jared didn’t even scold Sofia for insinuating that I poisoned her. He knew me too well, that I wouldn’t hurt a fly, not to mention a pregnant woman. I didn’t like Sofia, alright, but the last thing I wound ever do was hurt her. She must be rejoicing now, knowing that her plan to cause a rift between me and Jared had worked. We couldn’t even have dinner in peace. Her presence is always disrupting the peace of my marriage. I sighed and collapsed on the bed, wondering what to do to get Sofia out of Jared and I’s life. Realizing that I was feeling sleepy again due to my pregnancy, I got off the bed and walked into the bathroom for my night shower. After that, I slumped on the bed in exhaustion. I didn’t know how long I slept, but I woke up with a dry throat and a thirsty tongue yearning for water. I got off the bed, slipped my legs into my flip-flops and made my way downstairs, to the kitchen. As I ascended the stairs and approached the hallway to the kitchen, I heard voices. Getting closer, I realized it was Jared and Sofia talking. My face frowned in disapproval as I looked at the grandfather clock at the far corner, and it read 1 o’clock in the morning. Why the hell was Jared up by that time and talking to her? He was supposed to be in bed with me. Just then, Sofia’s voice filtered to my ears, it was not just that sweet voice, but her words. I stopped in my tracks as I listened to her. “What were you thinking when you got married to such a tough woman like Arielle, Jared? She is mean and lacks human sympathy. Didn’t you see how she was unconcerned about having me thrown out, at night? She is not only mean, but inconsiderate too for making you pick her up late from work. You should be resting after a stressful day at work and not playing the role of a driver to her.” “She didn’t ask me to, Sofia. I did it willingly. She is my wife after all,” I heard Jared say. I scoffed, at least he said a word in defense of me this time. “You have changed, Jared. This isn’t you. What has that woman done to you?” Sofia’s shrill voice cried out. “Stop it, Sofia. For someone with a failed marriage, you have no right giving hot takes or interfering in mine. Our past is over, just let it remain so.” “But you know it Jared, you know I divorced my husband because of you!” My eyes widened. What the hell? What did Sofia mean by that? “No, you didn’t! Don’t drag me into your divorce story!” Jared snapped, his voice laced with fury. I could feel the heat of his anger—it didn’t ease the weight in my chest. I had ever seen him act like this, so much of… rawest emotion. Then I heard a sob escape Sofia’s throat. And soon, her sobs grew into a cry. I moved closer. To my consternation, Sofia had moved into Jared’s arms, crying, as she held on to him tightly. I was infuriated and disgusted when I saw Jared wrap his arms around her, consoling her. Angry, and my thirst momentarily forgotten, I hurried back upstairs and began to pack my things. I needed to leave. I have had just enough of Jared and Sofia’s excesses. After packing, I slipped out of my robe into a more decent clothing before grabbing my handbag and making my way out. I walked towards the stairs, and just at the entrance, I saw Sofia standing, obviously waiting for me. There was a smirk on her face, and a malicious glint in her eyes. I decided to keep my emotions in check and maintain composure. I will avoid confrontation with Sofia as much as I can. All I was concerned about was leaving. I ascended the stairs, and as expected, Sofia blocked my path. “I have no strength for this, Sofia. Kindly leave the way,” I said, my voice firm. “And if I don’t? You think you can try to kill me and go Scott Free?” Sofia asked, hands akimbo. “Come off it, Jared is not here, so you might as well drop the act. There was no milk in the food, and what you did back there at the dinning was merely a stunt to draw Jared’s attention to yourself, like the attention starved kitten that you are. Now, leave my way, I have no time for your drama.” “You just refused to see the reality didn’t you? Alright, you may pass,” Sofia said and made way for me. I sneered and walked straight past her. “If we were both in danger, who do you think Jared would save first?” Sofia suddenly asked. “What?” I didn’t have the time to process what she meant, because the next minute, I felt a push on my back and lost balance, skidding off the stairs to land at its base. I let out a loud guttural scream, and Sofia must have heard Jared’s approaching step because she quickly rushed to me and laid down beside me, making groaning sounds like we fell together. God, this woman was despicable! I wanted to shout, to expose her, but the pain was too intense - especially in my abdomen. Oh God, the baby! Panic surged through me, and another scream followed. Sofia echoed my cry, louder, trying to steal Jared’s attention. Jared rushed in. His eyes flicked back and forth between us, confusion written all over him. I couldn’t speak, but my eyes begged him. Please, help me. Help our baby. For a moment, I thought he understood. He immediately rushed to me, but just as I was expecting him to carry me up, he halted and turned to Sofia instead. Before I slipped into unconsciousness, all I recalled was Jared saving Sofia instead of me.	LEARN_MORE	https://nvwibcnshop.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=14	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	168	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	nvwibcnshop.com	DCO		https://nvwibcnshop.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=14537&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/461604491_1225956918603236_8779588018568492096_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=111&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=JWI6MYvdGJsQ7kNvgEZzOLm&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYD_Zy4AsXT7_pje1g_SIX2L50RUOIW9Uk087FctzXgAAw&oe=6707AD8C	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,103,404	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2103406}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:50	active	1584	New 2024 Chevrolet Silverado 1500 LT Trail Boss \| $59,866	VIN:3GCUDFED8RG399074	LEARN_MORE	https://www.cloverchevrolet.com/new/Chevrolet/2024	Fred Caldwell Chevrolet	https://www.facebook.com/FredCaldwellChevy/	1,480	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	cloverchevrolet.com	CAROUSEL	VIN:3GCUDFED8RG399074	https://www.cloverchevrolet.com/new/Chevrolet/2024-Chevrolet-Silverado+1500-17a9f59bac185b3a7231929dac322ef0.htm?alstad_source=car&alstad_vin=3GCUDFED8RG399074&alstad_year=2024&alstad_make=Chevrolet&alstad_model=Silverado+1500&alstad_condition=new&alst_action=car&alst_action_value=3GCUDFED8RG399074	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462002438_890490356359407_8784909198553072313_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=4TWVwgBJbGIQ7kNvgFsBN7_&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AESGbWlzoqi-68F6mch4Unj&oh=00_AYD78rZzpAd9Z5zlLMqzqMuZdvAbH4yhIYzsMw1lP-Q9rw&oe=6707CECC	PERSON_PROFILE	Fred Caldwell Chevrolet	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,123	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101810}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	After three years of marriage, Nina finally slept with her drunken husband Nash, but he called out the name of his first love. When he woke up, he remembered nothing and said to her, "Find out the woman from last night!"... Nina Walker stood by the door of the suite, hearing a low growl coming from inside,"Get out!" It was followed by the sound of something breaking. She took a deep breath and walked in the room. It was a mess inside, Nash sat grimly on the bed. He looked tempting, but his handsome face was dark, teetering on the edge of rage. The woman she had brought was too scared to move, standing bared, with a hint of guilt in her eyes. Yes, Nina had called this woman to be here. she didn't want Nash to find out they had slept together yesterday. They had an agreement - three years of secret marriage, then they could divorce. She had been Nash's personal secretary for seven years and his wife for three. He had warned her that their relationship could only be that of superior and subordinate, never to transcend this hierarchy. Nina stepped forward and said, "Mr. York, there's a meeting at 9:30, you can get up now." Nash's gaze was coldly fixed on the woman. As if he still found it unbelievable. Sensing this, Nina said to her, "You can leave now." The woman breathed a sigh of relief, quickly picked up her clothes and hurried out. Nash's face remained stern as he asked Nina coldly, "Where were you last night?" Nina was momentarily stunned. Was he suspecting her? She felt a bit nervous, "I've been dealing with exhausting projects lately. I fell asleep in the office." As soon as she finished speaking, she heard Nash snort coldly. His face turned cold as he got up from the bed, grabbing a towel to wrap around himself. Nina watched his retreating figure, her eyes slightly moist. In her presence, he always concealed himself, as if being seen by her was something repulsive. But Last night, when he held her in bed and called out "Miranda", it was completely different. She saw the headline this morning: "Rising Star Singer Miranda Lewis Returns Home with Fiancé!" No wonder he had drowned himself in wine and cried in her arms. He had treated her as a replacement for his first love. Bitterness flooded her heart. By the time Nina snapped out of her thoughts, Nash had already finished showering and was standing in front of the full-length mirror. Nina walked over and, as usual, buttoned up his shirt for him. He was so much taller than her, so she had to tiptoe and reach up to put the tie around his neck. As she concentrated on tying his tie, Nash's warm breath brushed against her ear, his voice husky with tension, "Nina, that woman last night... it was you, wasn't it?"	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=11490&u	Indulge in story	https://www.facebook.com/61552702618591/	810	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	shgjfh.com	IMAGE		https://shgjfh.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=11490&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/454202936_778770560843516_8332739334793073816_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=D0jgWes1b8wQ7kNvgHXekMb&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYDZ9ZODGmvjsq3-VRnG89rRBxsbDZZ67BZcNTdx3OQcHQ&oe=6707BC01	PERSON_PROFILE	Indulge in story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,126	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101965}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 "You'll have the test results in about an hour." The nurse's smile was gentle and reassuring as she took the vial of blood from Madeline Sanders. Madeline held a cotton swab to her arm and settled into a chair in the waiting area. She was a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with hope. She had a hunch she was conceived, and that hospital visit was just to make sure. Three years ago, Trevon Gibson was involved in a terrible car crash that left him comatose, with doctors saying he would never wake up. Lydia Sanders, Trevon's high school sweetheart and Madeline's half-sister, did not waste any time and jetted off abroad for her studies. Somehow, Trevon's grandmother—Edith Gibson—figured that Madeline was Trevon's lucky charm and insisted she marry him. The Gibson family promised to care for Madeline's mother, who was lost in her own world of madness. Madeline felt trapped but agreed to the marriage. Little did everyone know that Madeline was secretly in love with Trevon for years. To everyone's surprise, Trevon woke up after the wedding. However, Madeline's joy was short-lived. Trevon's first words to her were icy and calculated. "Out of respect for my grandmother, I'll take you as Mrs. Gibson for three years. When Lydia returns in three years, I will marry her." Madeline had braced herself to play along with that deal, ready to step aside when the time came. However, life threw a curveball a month and a half ago. Trevon stumbled home after drowning his sorrows in wine that day, and Madeline single-handedly managed to drag him inside. Supporting a drunken Trevon was like moving a boulder—each step a battle of strength. Madeline and Trevon could no longer keep themselves upright and crumpled to the floor just inside the front door. Their lips brushed together in the fall, an accidental kiss that sent Madeline's heart racing. Trevon was a notorious germaphobe, avoiding physical contact like the plague. However, that unexpected kiss seemed to unlock something in him, and he leaned in for another. Madeline was caught off guard, but she did not resist. Later, in the quiet aftermath, Madeline could not bear to stay in the bed they shared. She tiptoed around the sleeping Trevon, erasing any trace of what had happened between them. The hospital was a hive of activity, but Madeline felt alone in the crowd. With trembling hands, she opened the lab results. 'Early stage of conceive. Recommend a follow-up ultrasound.' Joy flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind her hand to muffle her giggles. Regardless of the state of her marriage, that baby was a precious gift. She was eager to tell Trevon, her fingers hovering over her phone. However, she hesitated. Trevon's germaphobia was not just about objects—it extended to people. She had seen him scrub his hands raw after a mere handshake. However, wine had loosened his inhibitions that one night. Would he believe the baby was his? Doubt clouded Madeline's mind, bringing a headache and a wave of nausea. She was jostled as a group of doctors in white coats rushed by, nearly sending her phone flying. "Emergency! Please step aside," a nurse said, flashing Madeline a quick, apologetic smile before dashing off. Madeline took a deep breath, watching the commotion unfold. Her gaze drifted to the emergency room doors without much thought. However, in a heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. Trevon was there, shielding Lydia as they stepped down from the ambulance. He guided her gently onto a stretcher and, with a team around them, made a beeline for the VIP suite. A chilling shiver sliced through Madeline, her knees buckling as she clung to the nearby railing for support. Lydia was back. In the hospital room, the doctor briefed Trevon. "It seems like a mild concussion, but we'll need the test results to be sure." Trevon's expression was serious. "Speed it up. Use the VIP route." Lydia, stretched out on the gurney, smiled weakly at Trevon. "You're always so kind to me." Lydia pouted as she continued, "I wasn't paying attention. Who would've thought a bike bump could lead to a concussion? In Ameristan, people usually slow down on their own." Trevon gave her a fleeting, detached look. A flicker of worry crossed Lydia's face. "Trevon, with Skylandia's tight deadlines, isn't my accident going to set us back a lot?" Skylandia was the latest venture from Trevon's gaming empire, Xystos Tech, and Lydia had returned to lead the art on it. "I won't stay here. I have to get back to work," she declared, attempting to get out of bed. Trevon was quick to intervene, his hand on her shoulder easing her back down. "Don't be childish." As the tender scene unfolded, Madeline watched them outside the VIP room with gritted teeth. Trevon was notorious for his meticulous ways, but he did have a soft spot. He was not always distant. He just saved all his warmth for Lydia. Madeline felt a wave of emotion as she teared up. She touched her nose and fought the tears. Without really knowing why, she found herself pulling out her phone and calling Trevon. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Trevon's face froze for a moment as he checked his phone, then casually handed it off to his assistant, Simon Taylors. "Tell her I'm tied up in a meeting." Madeline's heart clenched as Trevon's annoyed expression flickered across his face. Simon, moving to the side, answered Madeline's call softly. "Hello, Mrs. Gibson. Mr. Gibson is busy in a meeting. Is there something you need?" Madeline's lips twitched with a defeated smile. "No, it's nothing. I just hit the wrong button." Simon frowned. "Mr. Gibson's schedule is packed. Please be more careful in the future, Mrs. Gibson." The future? Was there even a future to speak of? Lydia, overhearing Simon, gave Trevon a subtle glance. She casually showed off the pink Hello Kitty bandage on her hand. Trevon's eyes snapped to it, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "You still haven't kicked that old habit, I see." Lydia forced a smile. "Well, you know I've always been fond of Hello Kitty." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to soften. Madeline could not stand it any longer. Clutching her phone, she turned around and left. She thought one night could change things, but it was just wishful thinking. Despite the autumn season, Redenbaugh City was sweltering, and the hospital's air conditioning was cranked up, sending chills down her spine. She felt light-headed, as if she were floating on air. Suddenly, a little boy darted into her path, bumping into her. Madeline's face went pale as she caught the little boy, but in doing so, she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. The fall sent a chill up her spine, and she held her belly, too afraid to move. The boy, however, started wailing, drawing curious glances from passersby. His mother rushed over and gave him a quick once-over. When she found him unscathed, she pulled him into a tight embrace before turning to Madeline with fury. "Can't you watch where you're going? You ran into my baby! How will you make this right?" Madeline, her mind on the baby she was carrying, bit back her pain and chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made her way to the maternity ward upstairs. The mother was not having it, yanking on Madeline's arm. "You think you can just hit someone and leave?" Madeline, nearly tripping over, turned slightly and offered calmly, "Should we review the security footage?" The woman, clutching her son, stormed off. Madeline felt her vision darken as she clutched her chest. She leaned against the railing, immobilized. In the VIP ward, Lydia gazed at Trevon longingly and leaned in for a kiss. Trevon, who was aloof, felt a wave of nausea as she got close. His vision blurred, and his chest tightened. He flinched and shoved Lydia away. Chapter 2 "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look." Trevon, fresh from the hospital, confronted Madeline with a request for divorce. The image of Lydia's hurt look lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of resignation. His rejection was not just about his aversion to germs. It was also the sudden sickness and weakness that overtook him. He dismissed it as a one-off, which was not worth worrying about. However, faced with Madeline, the discomfort was undeniable. Madeline, still reeling from her hospital visit, was blindsided by the divorce papers laid out before her. It took a moment for her to find her voice, and when she did, it quivered. "Do we really have to end this?" "Yes." Madeline's grip tightened, and the question she could not suppress spilled out. "Is it because Lydia's back?" Trevon loosened his tie, his face turning to stone. "Didn't I make myself clear three years ago?" He had, and she had accepted it. However… "If... Just if..." Madeline hesitated, biting her lip. Trevon was impatient. "Madeline, you can't always want more." She looked up sharply, disbelief etched on her face. Did he think she was haggling over the divorce terms? With several deliberate taps on the table, Trevon continued, "Indeed, you've done everything required of being a wife these past three years. There's a modest place near Johnsrud. It's yours now. That's the best I can do. Don't make me lose respect for you." Madeline's response was trapped in her throat as she smiled bitterly. Three years of marriage, and her reward was a house. Should she be thankful? He was determined to get the divorce over with, by any means necessary. There was no need to mention the baby. It would only complicate how he saw her. She did not need a man whose heart belonged to another. Madeline felt nauseous, feeling like she needed to purge immediately. She crouched down to clutch the bin and gagged, but nothing came up. Trevon watched, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Why did her sickness stir something in him? Was it a mere coincidence? Seeing her ashen face, it was clear she was unwell. Trevor gave Madeline a questioning look. "Are you sick? When did it start? What's wrong?" Madeline felt the urge to throw up but could not, which only intensified her discomfort. Clinging to the trash can seemed like the only thing she could do. At the sound of his question, her fingers tensed uncontrollably. She forced a casual response. "Maybe it's just a cold. No big deal." "Answer me!" His voice turned sharp, sending a jolt through Madeline, and she murmured almost without thinking. "This afternoon, when you were… I'm just feeling a bit of chest tightness, weak limbs, and a touch of nausea. Typical cold symptoms." She did not bring up the hospital visit, quickly labeling it a cold to avoid any wild guesses. The timing and the symptoms lined up perfectly. 'So, it's because we caught a cold at the same time?' Trevon wondered. Madeline finally let go of her resistance. She deliberately avoided the divorce papers on the table and fetched the sour orange she had bought earlier from the fridge. Her mouth was unbearably uncomfortable, and she craved the relief of something sour. After all, she would need some strength in her hand to sign those papers. The moment she took out the sour orange, its tangy scent filled the room. Catching a glimpse of Trevon standing to the side, watching her with a frown, she hesitated before offering, "Want one?" Trevon looked away, clearly uninterested. Madeline chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. You're not into sour stuff." However, as she sliced into the vibrant sour orange and its juicy interior burst with a potent tangy aroma, Trevon seemed unable to look away. Madeline was about to take a bite when she noticed Trevon approaching. His towering presence felt like a wall closing in, making the kitchen feel smaller by the second. Instinctively, Madeline stepped back. "If you don't like it, then I'll just..." Before she could finish, Trevon was at the sink, lathering up with soap, washing his hands with deliberate care three times before reaching for a piece of the sour orange. He scrunched his forehead, eyeing the orange for a long moment before popping it into his mouth. Madeline's jaw dropped in astonishment. However, Trevon did not spit it out. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before looking at her seriously. "Next time, make sure the knife's washed three times, okay?" The urge to bite into that tangy orange slice was irresistible. Sure enough, the sour kick seemed to soothe his queasy stomach. It was not just some bug. His nausea had kicked in right after Madeline's, as if he was only sick because she was. What was up with that? Trevon made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. Madeline gave a simple "Oh" in response. They finished the orange together, a moment of closeness they had not felt in three years. After washing her hands, Madeline looked up at Trevon. Sharing that sour fruit seemed to have bridged the gap between them, if only a little. However, their journey together was nearing its end. She murmured, "I'll sign the divorce papers." It was like cashing out after three years. A million and five hundred thousand, and a house to her name. She was coming out ahead. When she was about to sign, Trevon snatched the papers away. "We'll add another house to the deal. Wait for the lawyer's final draft." Madeline nodded, still in a daze. Suddenly, Trevon's phone buzzed and Lydia's whiny voice came through as he picked up the call. "Trevon, when are you coming? I'm bored." Madeline gripped her pen so hard her thumb whitened, nearly snapping it. Trevon ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Madeline stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. "How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?" "We'll talk when I'm back," Trevon replied before the door slammed shut behind him. The house, once filled with life, echoed with emptiness. Madeline chuckled at herself, shook off the silence, and went to the kitchen to whip up some noodles. After all, she had to think about the little one growing inside her. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Trevon, who might have forgotten something, she swung the door open only to be greeted by unwelcome faces. Madeline's warmth vanished. "What are you two doing here?" Cilix Sanders, her father, smiled and said, "You weren't picking up, so your mom and I thought we'd drop by." Her phone did show a string of missed calls. Ignoring their calls was nothing new, but their sudden visit was unexpected. "My mom's lost her mind, locked up in Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital. Did you forget to visit her, or did you forget she's there?" Skylar Lowe, Madeline's stepmother, stood beside Cilix in her flawless outfit. She looked nothing like someone who had toiled in the fields. However, her sharp and calculative eyes matched her biting tone. "Such disrespect! Where are your manners?" Madeline was furious. If she truly lacked manners, Skylar would have been long gone. It was Skylar's appearance, after all, that had tipped her mother over the edge. However, Madeline had been biding her time, collecting proof. They would all pay, eventually. Pushing down the bile, she asked coolly, "So, what brings you here?" "Let's talk inside," was all they said. Once they were in, Madeline poured water into two glasses, her hands steady as stone. Madeline's calm and compliant facade only fueled Skylar's ego. With an arrogant head tilt, she announced, "Your sister's back in town. It's time you end things with Trevon and give up your title as Mrs. Gibson to her!" Madeline fought the impulse to douse Skylar with water as she gripped the kettle firmly. "Give it up? I'm not following you." Madeline's gaze shifted to Cilix. "You told me when Trevon was in that coma, the company was strapped for cash. Marrying Trevon was the only way to afford my mom's medical bills. I married into the Gibson family for the sake of the Sanders family. How did Lydia end up taking my place as the daughter-in-law of the Gibson family?" Chapter 3 "I was looking out for the Sanders family too," Cilix said as he sipped his water. "The Sanders-Gibson family alliance is crucial. Three years by Trevon's side, and what? No kids, no hold on his heart, no benefits for the Sanders family. Now that Lydia's back, along with her bond with Trevon, these issues will vanish. I can even afford better care for your mother." Cilix's duplicity struck Madeline once more. Madeline countered, "Did you forget why Lydia left the country? Or do you think the Gibsons have forgotten too?" "That's why we're asking you to initiate the divorce with Trevon," Cilix replied. Madeline saw right through their plot. She would step aside, letting Lydia take the lead, and the Sanders family would reap all the rewards. After a tense silence, Madeline broke the ice. "I'm willing to divorce Trevon, but on one condition. I want my mom's shares—the ones she's entitled to." Cilix instantly became furious. Once upon a time, the Sanders family was a picture of unity. Cilix, who came from nothing, married Bella Ziegler—Madeline's mother—and quickly turned his fortune around with a garment factory. However, Bella paid a steep price, severing ties with her own family. It was not until Skylar—previously 'Jolene', with her kids in tow—showed up that Bella realized the magnitude of her mistake. She battled depression for years, and the strain of the revelation only deepened her illness. That was when Cilix dropped the divorce bomb. He played the bankruptcy card during the split, claiming all assets were tied up. Bella was left with scraps. However, once the divorce papers were signed, Cilix's business miraculously bounced back. Ever the opportunist, Cilix kept footing Bella's medical bills, basking in the glow of his newfound reputation. Madeline only pieced it all together as she grew up—her mother had been played. She had been nursing a plan to set things right ever since. The meeting ended with frosty treatment all around. Madeline shut the door behind them, collapsed onto the couch, and lost herself in the darkness outside the window. … Dawn's light crept into the room. Madeline shielded her eyes and took a moment to adjust before getting up reluctantly. Nausea washed over her in an unforgiving wave. Trevon had not come home all night. Madeline's emotions were a mess—resignation laced with a hint of disappointment. However, above all, there was relief. It was as if her decision to let go the day before had freed her from hope. Madeline sank back into the pillows. The click of the electronic lock signaled an arrival at the door. Madeline glanced up, and there was Lydia, swathed in designer elegance, striding in with a smile that could light up the room. "Madeline, it's been ages." Rising slowly, Madeline perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes a storm of loathing. "Who said you could come in? Leave!" Lydia's smile only grew. "Trevon sent me, of course. He spent last night at the hospital with me, then dashed off to work at dawn. He asked me to pick up a suit for him." A shadow crossed Madeline's face. So, Trevon was with Lydia last night. She had waited like a fool on that couch all night long, clinging to his promise. 'We'll talk when I get back.' "You're just like your mother, always the homewrecker," Madeline spat. Lydia's laughter rang out. "Who's the real homewrecker? It's the unloved one. Even the lock's code is my birthday. Trevon's heart is still with me. Madeline, you've been using my birthday to open this door for the past three years. That must sting, doesn't it?" Madeline's eyes flickered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She inhaled sharply before smiling mockingly. "Is technology that archaic where you come from? We've moved on to facial recognition, or fingerprints at the very least. Key codes are a thing of the past." Lydia's smile faltered, her composure slipping for a split second. "Outdated or not, Trevon's word is law." Madeline could not be bothered with petty squabble. Her nausea was getting worse. She gestured toward Trevon's bedroom. "His stuff's in there. Help yourself." With a smug grin, Lydia disappeared into the room and emerged moments later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. Before she took off, she sauntered over to Madeline, flashed her hand, and there it was—a dazzling diamond ring. There was also that cutesy pink bandage on her finger. "My mom says you're dragging your feet on the divorce—kinda funny, don't you think? Trevon's put a ring on it, so why embarrass yourself? Time to get a clue." She leaned in, whispering to Madeline, "Face it, you've never been able to outdo me in anything since we were kids." Old memories came rushing back. Her favorite things, her mentors, her dad, her very home—Lydia had snatched them all away with just a few words. Madeline squinted and swiftly yanked the bandage off Lydia's hand. "You've always been into taking my stuff, huh?" She eyed Lydia's pristine hand and tossed the bandage into the bin with a look of disgust. "Bandages are disposable. Get a new one, and it's as good as ever. However, you know what's really scary about a guy who's been down the aisle twice?" Madeline rose to her feet, locking eyes with Lydia as she smiled slyly. "It's the lingering lessons from his ex. His style, habits, tastes, thoughts—they're all tinged with the ghost of the woman before you. Chew on that. Good luck." "Madeline!" Ignoring her, Madeline grabbed a bag of clothes and thrust it into Lydia's arms. "So long, no need for goodbyes!" Behind the wheel on her way to work, Lydia smacked the steering wheel, Madeline's parting shot replaying in her head. The phone buzzed. Lydia answered with a huff. "What's up with the wake-up call?" Wren Naylor, Lydia's assistant, hesitated before speaking up with caution. "Ms. Sanders, the planning team wants to add an illustrator to the project. They've already picked someone out." "They've what now? Since when does planning get to call the shots on art hires? They really need to stay in their lane." Wren stayed quiet. Lydia bit back her frustration. "Alright, I'm heading to the office soon. I'll sort it out with them." Instead of going to her department when she arrived at the office, Lydia went to the top floor to drop off some clothes for Trevon. Trevon accepted the clothes, but his brow creased in confusion. Lydia felt a twinge of worry. "Something wrong with the clothes?" They were definitely not his usual brand. Madeline would not slip up like that. "Madeline wasn't there when you picked these up?" Realizing the brand mismatch, Lydia understood her mistake. Madeline's earlier words echoed in her head. Lydia bit her lip, looking hurt. "Madeline just handed me these and shooed me out when I arrived. You know she's never been fond of me." She sighed resignedly and continued, "Typical Madeline, knowing you're in a rush and still acting petty with me. Should I run to the store and grab you a new set?" Trevon cut her off. "Don't bother. You've got work to do." Lydia clammed up, stepping back into silence. Trevon let out a quiet sigh. "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault. Clothes are the least of our worries. We've got the Skylandia project to focus on." In just a week, Skylandia would unveil its magical realms to eager eyes, with artistry at its heart. Lydia, fresh from her hiatus, was steering that ship—the crown jewel of the year for Xystos Tech. She knew the drill, but duty called, and she stepped out with a promise to return for lunch. Madeline, alone then, rinsed a handful of cherry tomatoes, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside her. She scrolled through her phone, the barrage of prenatal check-ups looming large and daunting. Midway through her meticulous note-taking, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find Simon pulling a long face. Chapter 4 "Mr. Gibson sent me some clothes." Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Again?" Simon's eyes flickered with annoyance as he asked, "Why'd you send Mrs. Yagle's clothes?" Simon referred to Trevon's mom, Riley Yagle—a woman whose kindness was only matched by her absentmindedness. Madeline recalled the ill-fitting, off-brand clothes that Trevon probably ditched without a second thought. "Mr. Gibson says, 'Don't get snippy and hold things up,'" Simon relayed with a hint of sternness. Madeline could not help but chuckle, amused by his blind trust. "Lydia told Trevon I picked out the clothes?" Did Trevon need to believe everything Lydia said? Simon rushed her along. Madeline handed him a fresh set of clothes, but her grip lingered as she responded steadily. "Simon, you've been Trevon's right-hand man for what, three, four years now? Do you realize why you're still at the bottom rung, just an assistant? You're good at sizing people up by their titles, but that's not really a skill an assistant needs. Why don't you take a page from Mr. Harris's book?" Trevon did have a star assistant—Daniel Harris—who was so capable that he was sent overseas to handle big deals. That was when Simon got the call to step in. Simon's face went through a mixture of pale and flushed as he absorbed her criticism. Madeline, who was usually quiet, had just thrown shade in his face. He bit back his retort, finally huffing in annoyance and storming off. Madeline let out a soft laugh, brushing off the encounter. With visiting hours ticking closer, Madeline headed to Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital to see Bella. It was more of a wellness retreat than a hospital, nestled right next to Redenbaugh City's fanciest private clinic. Getting in was not easy, but thanks to the Gibson family pulling strings, Bella got a spot. Madeline wheeled her mom out into the courtyard, catching her up on the week's gossip and happenings. Bella was her usual self—unresponsive and staring off into space. Madeline sighed and took her mom's hand, resting it gently on her belly. "Mom, right here, there's a little one on the way. Even with Trevon talking about divorce, I'm keeping this baby. You've got to come back to us. Who will help me with this little one if you don't?" She nestled against Bella's legs, craving the comfort of her mother's presence. Unseen by Madeline, Bella's eyes flickered—a brief, almost missed flutter. "Madeline?" A voice, laced with surprise, called out for her. Madeline looked up to see a man in a lab coat looking her way. The sun was blinding, and Madeline squinted without recognizing the figure before her. There was something oddly familiar about the silhouette. It was not until he was close that she could see it was Caleb Jabs, her old college friend. With a warm smile, Caleb teased, "Madeline, can't you recognize an old friend after just three years?" He opened his arms for a hug, like nothing had changed. Madeline hesitated, then offered a hand for a handshake instead. Caleb's smile faltered, then returned. "Right, we're not on campus anymore." He shook her hand before releasing it, stealing a glance at the wedding ring on her finger. Through their chat, Madeline learned that he had just returned from overseas and that his uncle was running the local private hospital. Caleb nodded toward Bella with a slight smile. "And who is this?" Madeline's smile vanished. "My mom. She's been like this since she had a breakdown three years ago." A breakdown? It looked serious, as if she had lost all touch with the world. What could have caused it? Caleb pushed down his questions, his heart aching for Madeline. "These past three years must've been tough on you." Madeline seemed more grounded than in her college days, but her eyes were shadowed with concern. Madeline shook her head. "It's time for us to head back." She was not one to bare her soul to just anyone. As she rose to leave, she wobbled slightly. Caleb reached out to steady her. "You're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should get checked out." Madeline steadied herself and took a step back. "It's just low blood sugar. I'm fine." Caleb watched Madeline sidestep with a calm smile, not the least bit ruffled. "Back in college, you were always dealing with low blood sugar. Still battling that, huh? Skipped breakfast today?" He was already taking the wheelchair's handles as he spoke, and Madeline allowed it. They got Bella settled and swapped numbers. Then, Caleb pressed a chocolate bar into her hand. "For your sugar levels, have a bite." Madeline's laughter bubbled up. "Caleb, you still keep chocolate on you after all this time?" "Just a habit," he said with a chuckle. That little piece of chocolate seemed to bridge the gap that had grown between them. "How about lunch? It's already noon." Madeline bit her lip, uncertain. However, Caleb was already tugging her along. "There's this great little place I know nearby. You'll love it." Trevon managed to swing by the hospital after his meeting wrapped up. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health. They suggested bringing Madeline in, thinking she might be the key to why he felt off. He left the hospital with that thought, only to see Madeline and Caleb, all smiles, heading into a cozy diner. Madeline's smile was something new, something he had never seen, and it stopped him in his tracks. He took a moment before climbing into his car. From the driver's seat, Simon caught Trevon in the mirror. "Mr. Gibson, wasn't that Mrs. Gibson? Should we pick her up?" Trevon watched them disappear into the diner, a place he would never dream of entering. "No, let's not," he murmured. Simon arched an eyebrow, shot a look of faint scorn at the diner, and sped off. Trevon was reclining in the back seat, eyes closed, soaking in a moment of peace. A few minutes in, a wave of relief washed over him, leaving him feeling surprisingly refreshed. It took him a moment to realize that he was embodying Madeline's happiness. What could possibly be so special about that little shop to make her that cheerful? However, that sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles they served was exceptional—tangy and invigorating. It had been days since Madeline had enjoyed a meal so thoroughly. She even decided to get an extra serving to go. Caleb chuckled. "Noodles never taste as good reheated. Wait, didn't you love spicy food? What's with the switch?" Madeline smiled. "I haven't really switched. This is just that good." She was known for her love of spicy dishes, and even Trevon, the health nut, had found his tastes swayed by her. It was hard to argue with Madeline's culinary magic. Her cooking was irresistible to most. Back home, Madeline had barely set down her takeout when her phone rang. It was Yeneth Collins, her best friend. "Madeline, I've got some good and bad news." Feeling a bit worn out, Madeline sank into the couch. "Go on." "The good news is that you've been chosen to draw the new character for Skylandia. They've sent the contract over to you already." A spark of excitement flickered across Madeline's face as she reached for her laptop to check her email. "And the bad news?" Yeneth sighed heavily. "Lydia is the new art director for Skylandia. She just got the job today. I wouldn't have pushed you to take this gig if I'd known." Since marrying Trevon right after college, Madeline had not returned to the workforce, finding solace and passion in her art. Her style was distinctive, not exactly mainstream, with a focus on creating captivating illustrations. When Yeneth got involved with Skylandia, she thought Madeline's artwork was a perfect fit and put her name forward. Madeline smiled. "No way. The contract's terms are decent. Can't miss an opportunity of making money just because of her." She was always hustling for cash, especially with Bella's medical bills piling up. It meant biting her tongue whenever the Sanders family got tight-fisted. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" "Totally. I freelance under the name 'Lily Mora'. Who will connect the dots?" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open as Trevon walked in. Chapter 5 Madeline's instinct was to snap her laptop shut. "Give me a second." She quickly ended the call and turned to face Trevon. "What's got you home at this hour?" Trevon eyed her hurried movements and washed his hands before replying, "Just needed to pick something up." Madeline responded with a noncommittal hum. His gaze landed on a nearby takeaway box. It was the sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles. It looked just like the one she had had for lunch. Was it really that tasty? A jolt of panic hit Madeline, and she blurted out, "It's for Yeneth, not me." Back when they were newlyweds, Madeline had grabbed some street sausages, and Trevon had gone into a tailspin, bombarding her with articles about the filth of street vendors and the dangers of eating out. Since then, she had avoided eating street food around him. However, she had slipped up and forgotten to stash the evidence. Trevon's chuckle was detached as his eyes drifted to a notebook on the table. Madeline's heart was pounding, and she pushed aside the wave of nausea to dash toward the notebook—her secret journal of conceive appointments. The last thing she wanted was for Trevon to find out she was expecting. However, Trevon was quicker. He stretched out his arm and lifted the notebook from Madeline's reach. Without regard for her protests, he calmly flipped it open. The 'Prenatal Appointment Schedule' header stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze landing on Madeline. Madeline felt her heart jump into her throat. "Is this for Yeneth, too?" Trevon asked. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Madeline quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Yeneth's getting married, thinking about having kids, so I was helping her research." Trevon's suspicion did not wane. "So, why the panic?" Madeline's forehead creased. She let go of the notebook and looked away. "I didn't want you to think I was up to something." Madeline's beauty was marred by her recent illness. Her pale face was then tinged with the flush of sickness, making her look even more vulnerable. Trevon felt a twinge in his chest, and his annoyance grew. Her cold was messing with his work. He tossed the notebook back to Madeline. "I don't have time for this. You should be resting, not running around. If you show up to a divorce proceeding looking like this, people will think I'm the bad guy." Madeline silently clutched the notebook with her head bowed. … At the steakhouse, Lydia stared at her barely touched steak, her mood souring by the minute. When she heard Trevon returned to the Angelic Garden Residence, her annoyance turned to outright anger. "Madeline, that witch!" She whipped out her phone and dialed Skylar's number. Madeline had just reviewed the casting call from Skylandia, wrapped up her draft, and was stretching after a long day when Skylar's call came through. "Get over here tonight. If you don't show up, I'm tossing your mom's stuff." The line went dead. Madeline thought she had taken care of all Bella's things, so what could possibly be left at the Sanders' place? She could not risk it, so she hailed a cab and headed over. The Sanders' mansion was ablaze with lights, screaming new money from every gilded corner. Madeline stood at the entrance, taking in the garish display, and figured Skylar was behind it. Skylar greeted her with a grin, tugging her inside. "I just knew you'd come." Madeline jerked her hand away. "Cut the act, Skylar. There's no one else here. I did what you asked, so where's my mom's stuff?" Chapter 6 Before Skylar could answer, a sharp snap echoed from the side. "Madeline, watch how you talk to my mom!" It was Yale Sanders, Lydia's little brother. With his shoulder-length purple hair and arms sleeved in tattoos, he looked every bit the wannabe gangster. He had been coddled by Skylar all his life, and with the Sanders' wealth, he had gathered a gang of street toughs to back him up. Madeline did not expect him to be there but gave him a cool look and brushed him off. Just then, Cilix descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the air. "Yale!" Yale sulked, his lips puckered as he flopped onto the sofa, clearly annoyed. Cilix motioned for Madeline to take a seat at the dining table. "It's not every day we get your sister back home. I figured a family dinner was in order. Have a seat, will you? I had Mom whip up your favorite fish tacos." Skylar quickly dished some out for her. The oily sheen and the subtle fishy scent made Madeline wrinkle her nose and push the plate away. "I caught a cold and lost my appetite. I'm just here to grab a few things, and I'll be out." Cilix squinted, and Skylar, unable to contain herself, plopped down next to Madeline. "When are you planning on divorcing Trevon, huh? Your dad and I have already scoped out a new guy for you. He's ready to tie the knot and won't wait forever." A resigned feeling washed over Madeline. With a mocking smile, she murmured, "Really? Who's this wonderful match?" Skylar perked up and replied, "He's from a solid family. One of your dad's business partners. The guy owns a string of factories. Marry him, and you'll be the boss. They wouldn't even look twice at a divorcee if it wasn't for your dad's connections." She made it sound like a fairy tale. Madeline cut to the chase. "The owner of these factories? How old?" Skylar hesitated, then chuckled. "Not too old. He's just a bit over forty and in the prime of his life. It'll be your second marriage, so you can't afford to be choosy. Plus, they've promised to cut your dad a deal if you marry in. Consider it a tribute to your mom." Three years had passed, and Madeline's disdain for her family's ways was as strong as ever. She glared at Cilix. "Over forty? You're okay with this, being not much older yourself?" Cilix looked pained as he spoke, "Skylar's just trying to do what's best for you. Remarrying and bringing your mom into the mix, finding someone okay with that wasn't easy. Skylar really went out of her way for you." Skylar nodded earnestly. It had indeed been a challenge. Madeline needed to be married off and kept far away to avoid causing Lydia any more headaches. "Don't worry, the guy doesn't have kids. Everything in the future will be yours and your children's. It's a real stroke of luck." Madeline suddenly chimed in, "It's true. These kinds of terms are hard to come by. You've really outdone yourself, but…" Breaking from her usual composure, Madeline locked eyes with Cilix. "I was clear yesterday. I just want what my mom is entitled to—her shares. Those shares are peanuts compared to being Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family." Cilix remained expressionless, but his eyes were calculative. "Your mom's shares?" Thinking she had swayed Cilix, Skylar piped up in a shrill tone. "What shares does her mother have? The Sanders family fortune is all thanks to me and Cilix. It's got nothing to do with your loony mom." Madeline's glare whipped towards Skylar, sharp enough to shut her up. "Apologize." "Why should I? Your mom's the crazy one." Without warning, a cup of scalding water splashed across Skylar's face, and she let out a scream. However, before Madeline could react, she was yanked back forcefully. A second later, she was punched in the face. "You owe her an apology!" Chapter 7 Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline. Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her. Conceived had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation. The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch. Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen." Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down. She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever. As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him. "One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!" Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped. He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?" Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day." Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?" Yale did not budge. Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down." Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back." Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix. Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?" Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word. The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness. Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!" The pair entered the room. Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?" Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now." With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside. Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?" Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh. "So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?" "Is this enough for you?" Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there. That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again. He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand. She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up. The room fell silent. Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why? Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency. Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart. Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet." He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time." With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.	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2,102,124	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101965}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 "You'll have the test results in about an hour." The nurse's smile was gentle and reassuring as she took the vial of blood from Madeline Sanders. Madeline held a cotton swab to her arm and settled into a chair in the waiting area. She was a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with hope. She had a hunch she was conceived, and that hospital visit was just to make sure. Three years ago, Trevon Gibson was involved in a terrible car crash that left him comatose, with doctors saying he would never wake up. Lydia Sanders, Trevon's high school sweetheart and Madeline's half-sister, did not waste any time and jetted off abroad for her studies. Somehow, Trevon's grandmother—Edith Gibson—figured that Madeline was Trevon's lucky charm and insisted she marry him. The Gibson family promised to care for Madeline's mother, who was lost in her own world of madness. Madeline felt trapped but agreed to the marriage. Little did everyone know that Madeline was secretly in love with Trevon for years. To everyone's surprise, Trevon woke up after the wedding. However, Madeline's joy was short-lived. Trevon's first words to her were icy and calculated. "Out of respect for my grandmother, I'll take you as Mrs. Gibson for three years. When Lydia returns in three years, I will marry her." Madeline had braced herself to play along with that deal, ready to step aside when the time came. However, life threw a curveball a month and a half ago. Trevon stumbled home after drowning his sorrows in wine that day, and Madeline single-handedly managed to drag him inside. Supporting a drunken Trevon was like moving a boulder—each step a battle of strength. Madeline and Trevon could no longer keep themselves upright and crumpled to the floor just inside the front door. Their lips brushed together in the fall, an accidental kiss that sent Madeline's heart racing. Trevon was a notorious germaphobe, avoiding physical contact like the plague. However, that unexpected kiss seemed to unlock something in him, and he leaned in for another. Madeline was caught off guard, but she did not resist. Later, in the quiet aftermath, Madeline could not bear to stay in the bed they shared. She tiptoed around the sleeping Trevon, erasing any trace of what had happened between them. The hospital was a hive of activity, but Madeline felt alone in the crowd. With trembling hands, she opened the lab results. 'Early stage of conceive. Recommend a follow-up ultrasound.' Joy flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind her hand to muffle her giggles. Regardless of the state of her marriage, that baby was a precious gift. She was eager to tell Trevon, her fingers hovering over her phone. However, she hesitated. Trevon's germaphobia was not just about objects—it extended to people. She had seen him scrub his hands raw after a mere handshake. However, wine had loosened his inhibitions that one night. Would he believe the baby was his? Doubt clouded Madeline's mind, bringing a headache and a wave of nausea. She was jostled as a group of doctors in white coats rushed by, nearly sending her phone flying. "Emergency! Please step aside," a nurse said, flashing Madeline a quick, apologetic smile before dashing off. Madeline took a deep breath, watching the commotion unfold. Her gaze drifted to the emergency room doors without much thought. However, in a heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. Trevon was there, shielding Lydia as they stepped down from the ambulance. He guided her gently onto a stretcher and, with a team around them, made a beeline for the VIP suite. A chilling shiver sliced through Madeline, her knees buckling as she clung to the nearby railing for support. Lydia was back. In the hospital room, the doctor briefed Trevon. "It seems like a mild concussion, but we'll need the test results to be sure." Trevon's expression was serious. "Speed it up. Use the VIP route." Lydia, stretched out on the gurney, smiled weakly at Trevon. "You're always so kind to me." Lydia pouted as she continued, "I wasn't paying attention. Who would've thought a bike bump could lead to a concussion? In Ameristan, people usually slow down on their own." Trevon gave her a fleeting, detached look. A flicker of worry crossed Lydia's face. "Trevon, with Skylandia's tight deadlines, isn't my accident going to set us back a lot?" Skylandia was the latest venture from Trevon's gaming empire, Xystos Tech, and Lydia had returned to lead the art on it. "I won't stay here. I have to get back to work," she declared, attempting to get out of bed. Trevon was quick to intervene, his hand on her shoulder easing her back down. "Don't be childish." As the tender scene unfolded, Madeline watched them outside the VIP room with gritted teeth. Trevon was notorious for his meticulous ways, but he did have a soft spot. He was not always distant. He just saved all his warmth for Lydia. Madeline felt a wave of emotion as she teared up. She touched her nose and fought the tears. Without really knowing why, she found herself pulling out her phone and calling Trevon. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Trevon's face froze for a moment as he checked his phone, then casually handed it off to his assistant, Simon Taylors. "Tell her I'm tied up in a meeting." Madeline's heart clenched as Trevon's annoyed expression flickered across his face. Simon, moving to the side, answered Madeline's call softly. "Hello, Mrs. Gibson. Mr. Gibson is busy in a meeting. Is there something you need?" Madeline's lips twitched with a defeated smile. "No, it's nothing. I just hit the wrong button." Simon frowned. "Mr. Gibson's schedule is packed. Please be more careful in the future, Mrs. Gibson." The future? Was there even a future to speak of? Lydia, overhearing Simon, gave Trevon a subtle glance. She casually showed off the pink Hello Kitty bandage on her hand. Trevon's eyes snapped to it, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "You still haven't kicked that old habit, I see." Lydia forced a smile. "Well, you know I've always been fond of Hello Kitty." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to soften. Madeline could not stand it any longer. Clutching her phone, she turned around and left. She thought one night could change things, but it was just wishful thinking. Despite the autumn season, Redenbaugh City was sweltering, and the hospital's air conditioning was cranked up, sending chills down her spine. She felt light-headed, as if she were floating on air. Suddenly, a little boy darted into her path, bumping into her. Madeline's face went pale as she caught the little boy, but in doing so, she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. The fall sent a chill up her spine, and she held her belly, too afraid to move. The boy, however, started wailing, drawing curious glances from passersby. His mother rushed over and gave him a quick once-over. When she found him unscathed, she pulled him into a tight embrace before turning to Madeline with fury. "Can't you watch where you're going? You ran into my baby! How will you make this right?" Madeline, her mind on the baby she was carrying, bit back her pain and chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made her way to the maternity ward upstairs. The mother was not having it, yanking on Madeline's arm. "You think you can just hit someone and leave?" Madeline, nearly tripping over, turned slightly and offered calmly, "Should we review the security footage?" The woman, clutching her son, stormed off. Madeline felt her vision darken as she clutched her chest. She leaned against the railing, immobilized. In the VIP ward, Lydia gazed at Trevon longingly and leaned in for a kiss. Trevon, who was aloof, felt a wave of nausea as she got close. His vision blurred, and his chest tightened. He flinched and shoved Lydia away. Chapter 2 "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look." Trevon, fresh from the hospital, confronted Madeline with a request for divorce. The image of Lydia's hurt look lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of resignation. His rejection was not just about his aversion to germs. It was also the sudden sickness and weakness that overtook him. He dismissed it as a one-off, which was not worth worrying about. However, faced with Madeline, the discomfort was undeniable. Madeline, still reeling from her hospital visit, was blindsided by the divorce papers laid out before her. It took a moment for her to find her voice, and when she did, it quivered. "Do we really have to end this?" "Yes." Madeline's grip tightened, and the question she could not suppress spilled out. "Is it because Lydia's back?" Trevon loosened his tie, his face turning to stone. "Didn't I make myself clear three years ago?" He had, and she had accepted it. However… "If... Just if..." Madeline hesitated, biting her lip. Trevon was impatient. "Madeline, you can't always want more." She looked up sharply, disbelief etched on her face. Did he think she was haggling over the divorce terms? With several deliberate taps on the table, Trevon continued, "Indeed, you've done everything required of being a wife these past three years. There's a modest place near Johnsrud. It's yours now. That's the best I can do. Don't make me lose respect for you." Madeline's response was trapped in her throat as she smiled bitterly. Three years of marriage, and her reward was a house. Should she be thankful? He was determined to get the divorce over with, by any means necessary. There was no need to mention the baby. It would only complicate how he saw her. She did not need a man whose heart belonged to another. Madeline felt nauseous, feeling like she needed to purge immediately. She crouched down to clutch the bin and gagged, but nothing came up. Trevon watched, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Why did her sickness stir something in him? Was it a mere coincidence? Seeing her ashen face, it was clear she was unwell. Trevor gave Madeline a questioning look. "Are you sick? When did it start? What's wrong?" Madeline felt the urge to throw up but could not, which only intensified her discomfort. Clinging to the trash can seemed like the only thing she could do. At the sound of his question, her fingers tensed uncontrollably. She forced a casual response. "Maybe it's just a cold. No big deal." "Answer me!" His voice turned sharp, sending a jolt through Madeline, and she murmured almost without thinking. "This afternoon, when you were… I'm just feeling a bit of chest tightness, weak limbs, and a touch of nausea. Typical cold symptoms." She did not bring up the hospital visit, quickly labeling it a cold to avoid any wild guesses. The timing and the symptoms lined up perfectly. 'So, it's because we caught a cold at the same time?' Trevon wondered. Madeline finally let go of her resistance. She deliberately avoided the divorce papers on the table and fetched the sour orange she had bought earlier from the fridge. Her mouth was unbearably uncomfortable, and she craved the relief of something sour. After all, she would need some strength in her hand to sign those papers. The moment she took out the sour orange, its tangy scent filled the room. Catching a glimpse of Trevon standing to the side, watching her with a frown, she hesitated before offering, "Want one?" Trevon looked away, clearly uninterested. Madeline chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. You're not into sour stuff." However, as she sliced into the vibrant sour orange and its juicy interior burst with a potent tangy aroma, Trevon seemed unable to look away. Madeline was about to take a bite when she noticed Trevon approaching. His towering presence felt like a wall closing in, making the kitchen feel smaller by the second. Instinctively, Madeline stepped back. "If you don't like it, then I'll just..." Before she could finish, Trevon was at the sink, lathering up with soap, washing his hands with deliberate care three times before reaching for a piece of the sour orange. He scrunched his forehead, eyeing the orange for a long moment before popping it into his mouth. Madeline's jaw dropped in astonishment. However, Trevon did not spit it out. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before looking at her seriously. "Next time, make sure the knife's washed three times, okay?" The urge to bite into that tangy orange slice was irresistible. Sure enough, the sour kick seemed to soothe his queasy stomach. It was not just some bug. His nausea had kicked in right after Madeline's, as if he was only sick because she was. What was up with that? Trevon made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. Madeline gave a simple "Oh" in response. They finished the orange together, a moment of closeness they had not felt in three years. After washing her hands, Madeline looked up at Trevon. Sharing that sour fruit seemed to have bridged the gap between them, if only a little. However, their journey together was nearing its end. She murmured, "I'll sign the divorce papers." It was like cashing out after three years. A million and five hundred thousand, and a house to her name. She was coming out ahead. When she was about to sign, Trevon snatched the papers away. "We'll add another house to the deal. Wait for the lawyer's final draft." Madeline nodded, still in a daze. Suddenly, Trevon's phone buzzed and Lydia's whiny voice came through as he picked up the call. "Trevon, when are you coming? I'm bored." Madeline gripped her pen so hard her thumb whitened, nearly snapping it. Trevon ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Madeline stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. "How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?" "We'll talk when I'm back," Trevon replied before the door slammed shut behind him. The house, once filled with life, echoed with emptiness. Madeline chuckled at herself, shook off the silence, and went to the kitchen to whip up some noodles. After all, she had to think about the little one growing inside her. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Trevon, who might have forgotten something, she swung the door open only to be greeted by unwelcome faces. Madeline's warmth vanished. "What are you two doing here?" Cilix Sanders, her father, smiled and said, "You weren't picking up, so your mom and I thought we'd drop by." Her phone did show a string of missed calls. Ignoring their calls was nothing new, but their sudden visit was unexpected. "My mom's lost her mind, locked up in Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital. Did you forget to visit her, or did you forget she's there?" Skylar Lowe, Madeline's stepmother, stood beside Cilix in her flawless outfit. She looked nothing like someone who had toiled in the fields. However, her sharp and calculative eyes matched her biting tone. "Such disrespect! Where are your manners?" Madeline was furious. If she truly lacked manners, Skylar would have been long gone. It was Skylar's appearance, after all, that had tipped her mother over the edge. However, Madeline had been biding her time, collecting proof. They would all pay, eventually. Pushing down the bile, she asked coolly, "So, what brings you here?" "Let's talk inside," was all they said. Once they were in, Madeline poured water into two glasses, her hands steady as stone. Madeline's calm and compliant facade only fueled Skylar's ego. With an arrogant head tilt, she announced, "Your sister's back in town. It's time you end things with Trevon and give up your title as Mrs. Gibson to her!" Madeline fought the impulse to douse Skylar with water as she gripped the kettle firmly. "Give it up? I'm not following you." Madeline's gaze shifted to Cilix. "You told me when Trevon was in that coma, the company was strapped for cash. Marrying Trevon was the only way to afford my mom's medical bills. I married into the Gibson family for the sake of the Sanders family. How did Lydia end up taking my place as the daughter-in-law of the Gibson family?" Chapter 3 "I was looking out for the Sanders family too," Cilix said as he sipped his water. "The Sanders-Gibson family alliance is crucial. Three years by Trevon's side, and what? No kids, no hold on his heart, no benefits for the Sanders family. Now that Lydia's back, along with her bond with Trevon, these issues will vanish. I can even afford better care for your mother." Cilix's duplicity struck Madeline once more. Madeline countered, "Did you forget why Lydia left the country? Or do you think the Gibsons have forgotten too?" "That's why we're asking you to initiate the divorce with Trevon," Cilix replied. Madeline saw right through their plot. She would step aside, letting Lydia take the lead, and the Sanders family would reap all the rewards. After a tense silence, Madeline broke the ice. "I'm willing to divorce Trevon, but on one condition. I want my mom's shares—the ones she's entitled to." Cilix instantly became furious. Once upon a time, the Sanders family was a picture of unity. Cilix, who came from nothing, married Bella Ziegler—Madeline's mother—and quickly turned his fortune around with a garment factory. However, Bella paid a steep price, severing ties with her own family. It was not until Skylar—previously 'Jolene', with her kids in tow—showed up that Bella realized the magnitude of her mistake. She battled depression for years, and the strain of the revelation only deepened her illness. That was when Cilix dropped the divorce bomb. He played the bankruptcy card during the split, claiming all assets were tied up. Bella was left with scraps. However, once the divorce papers were signed, Cilix's business miraculously bounced back. Ever the opportunist, Cilix kept footing Bella's medical bills, basking in the glow of his newfound reputation. Madeline only pieced it all together as she grew up—her mother had been played. She had been nursing a plan to set things right ever since. The meeting ended with frosty treatment all around. Madeline shut the door behind them, collapsed onto the couch, and lost herself in the darkness outside the window. … Dawn's light crept into the room. Madeline shielded her eyes and took a moment to adjust before getting up reluctantly. Nausea washed over her in an unforgiving wave. Trevon had not come home all night. Madeline's emotions were a mess—resignation laced with a hint of disappointment. However, above all, there was relief. It was as if her decision to let go the day before had freed her from hope. Madeline sank back into the pillows. The click of the electronic lock signaled an arrival at the door. Madeline glanced up, and there was Lydia, swathed in designer elegance, striding in with a smile that could light up the room. "Madeline, it's been ages." Rising slowly, Madeline perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes a storm of loathing. "Who said you could come in? Leave!" Lydia's smile only grew. "Trevon sent me, of course. He spent last night at the hospital with me, then dashed off to work at dawn. He asked me to pick up a suit for him." A shadow crossed Madeline's face. So, Trevon was with Lydia last night. She had waited like a fool on that couch all night long, clinging to his promise. 'We'll talk when I get back.' "You're just like your mother, always the homewrecker," Madeline spat. Lydia's laughter rang out. "Who's the real homewrecker? It's the unloved one. Even the lock's code is my birthday. Trevon's heart is still with me. Madeline, you've been using my birthday to open this door for the past three years. That must sting, doesn't it?" Madeline's eyes flickered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She inhaled sharply before smiling mockingly. "Is technology that archaic where you come from? We've moved on to facial recognition, or fingerprints at the very least. Key codes are a thing of the past." Lydia's smile faltered, her composure slipping for a split second. "Outdated or not, Trevon's word is law." Madeline could not be bothered with petty squabble. Her nausea was getting worse. She gestured toward Trevon's bedroom. "His stuff's in there. Help yourself." With a smug grin, Lydia disappeared into the room and emerged moments later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. Before she took off, she sauntered over to Madeline, flashed her hand, and there it was—a dazzling diamond ring. There was also that cutesy pink bandage on her finger. "My mom says you're dragging your feet on the divorce—kinda funny, don't you think? Trevon's put a ring on it, so why embarrass yourself? Time to get a clue." She leaned in, whispering to Madeline, "Face it, you've never been able to outdo me in anything since we were kids." Old memories came rushing back. Her favorite things, her mentors, her dad, her very home—Lydia had snatched them all away with just a few words. Madeline squinted and swiftly yanked the bandage off Lydia's hand. "You've always been into taking my stuff, huh?" She eyed Lydia's pristine hand and tossed the bandage into the bin with a look of disgust. "Bandages are disposable. Get a new one, and it's as good as ever. However, you know what's really scary about a guy who's been down the aisle twice?" Madeline rose to her feet, locking eyes with Lydia as she smiled slyly. "It's the lingering lessons from his ex. His style, habits, tastes, thoughts—they're all tinged with the ghost of the woman before you. Chew on that. Good luck." "Madeline!" Ignoring her, Madeline grabbed a bag of clothes and thrust it into Lydia's arms. "So long, no need for goodbyes!" Behind the wheel on her way to work, Lydia smacked the steering wheel, Madeline's parting shot replaying in her head. The phone buzzed. Lydia answered with a huff. "What's up with the wake-up call?" Wren Naylor, Lydia's assistant, hesitated before speaking up with caution. "Ms. Sanders, the planning team wants to add an illustrator to the project. They've already picked someone out." "They've what now? Since when does planning get to call the shots on art hires? They really need to stay in their lane." Wren stayed quiet. Lydia bit back her frustration. "Alright, I'm heading to the office soon. I'll sort it out with them." Instead of going to her department when she arrived at the office, Lydia went to the top floor to drop off some clothes for Trevon. Trevon accepted the clothes, but his brow creased in confusion. Lydia felt a twinge of worry. "Something wrong with the clothes?" They were definitely not his usual brand. Madeline would not slip up like that. "Madeline wasn't there when you picked these up?" Realizing the brand mismatch, Lydia understood her mistake. Madeline's earlier words echoed in her head. Lydia bit her lip, looking hurt. "Madeline just handed me these and shooed me out when I arrived. You know she's never been fond of me." She sighed resignedly and continued, "Typical Madeline, knowing you're in a rush and still acting petty with me. Should I run to the store and grab you a new set?" Trevon cut her off. "Don't bother. You've got work to do." Lydia clammed up, stepping back into silence. Trevon let out a quiet sigh. "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault. Clothes are the least of our worries. We've got the Skylandia project to focus on." In just a week, Skylandia would unveil its magical realms to eager eyes, with artistry at its heart. Lydia, fresh from her hiatus, was steering that ship—the crown jewel of the year for Xystos Tech. She knew the drill, but duty called, and she stepped out with a promise to return for lunch. Madeline, alone then, rinsed a handful of cherry tomatoes, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside her. She scrolled through her phone, the barrage of prenatal check-ups looming large and daunting. Midway through her meticulous note-taking, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find Simon pulling a long face. Chapter 4 "Mr. Gibson sent me some clothes." Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Again?" Simon's eyes flickered with annoyance as he asked, "Why'd you send Mrs. Yagle's clothes?" Simon referred to Trevon's mom, Riley Yagle—a woman whose kindness was only matched by her absentmindedness. Madeline recalled the ill-fitting, off-brand clothes that Trevon probably ditched without a second thought. "Mr. Gibson says, 'Don't get snippy and hold things up,'" Simon relayed with a hint of sternness. Madeline could not help but chuckle, amused by his blind trust. "Lydia told Trevon I picked out the clothes?" Did Trevon need to believe everything Lydia said? Simon rushed her along. Madeline handed him a fresh set of clothes, but her grip lingered as she responded steadily. "Simon, you've been Trevon's right-hand man for what, three, four years now? Do you realize why you're still at the bottom rung, just an assistant? You're good at sizing people up by their titles, but that's not really a skill an assistant needs. Why don't you take a page from Mr. Harris's book?" Trevon did have a star assistant—Daniel Harris—who was so capable that he was sent overseas to handle big deals. That was when Simon got the call to step in. Simon's face went through a mixture of pale and flushed as he absorbed her criticism. Madeline, who was usually quiet, had just thrown shade in his face. He bit back his retort, finally huffing in annoyance and storming off. Madeline let out a soft laugh, brushing off the encounter. With visiting hours ticking closer, Madeline headed to Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital to see Bella. It was more of a wellness retreat than a hospital, nestled right next to Redenbaugh City's fanciest private clinic. Getting in was not easy, but thanks to the Gibson family pulling strings, Bella got a spot. Madeline wheeled her mom out into the courtyard, catching her up on the week's gossip and happenings. Bella was her usual self—unresponsive and staring off into space. Madeline sighed and took her mom's hand, resting it gently on her belly. "Mom, right here, there's a little one on the way. Even with Trevon talking about divorce, I'm keeping this baby. You've got to come back to us. Who will help me with this little one if you don't?" She nestled against Bella's legs, craving the comfort of her mother's presence. Unseen by Madeline, Bella's eyes flickered—a brief, almost missed flutter. "Madeline?" A voice, laced with surprise, called out for her. Madeline looked up to see a man in a lab coat looking her way. The sun was blinding, and Madeline squinted without recognizing the figure before her. There was something oddly familiar about the silhouette. It was not until he was close that she could see it was Caleb Jabs, her old college friend. With a warm smile, Caleb teased, "Madeline, can't you recognize an old friend after just three years?" He opened his arms for a hug, like nothing had changed. Madeline hesitated, then offered a hand for a handshake instead. Caleb's smile faltered, then returned. "Right, we're not on campus anymore." He shook her hand before releasing it, stealing a glance at the wedding ring on her finger. Through their chat, Madeline learned that he had just returned from overseas and that his uncle was running the local private hospital. Caleb nodded toward Bella with a slight smile. "And who is this?" Madeline's smile vanished. "My mom. She's been like this since she had a breakdown three years ago." A breakdown? It looked serious, as if she had lost all touch with the world. What could have caused it? Caleb pushed down his questions, his heart aching for Madeline. "These past three years must've been tough on you." Madeline seemed more grounded than in her college days, but her eyes were shadowed with concern. Madeline shook her head. "It's time for us to head back." She was not one to bare her soul to just anyone. As she rose to leave, she wobbled slightly. Caleb reached out to steady her. "You're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should get checked out." Madeline steadied herself and took a step back. "It's just low blood sugar. I'm fine." Caleb watched Madeline sidestep with a calm smile, not the least bit ruffled. "Back in college, you were always dealing with low blood sugar. Still battling that, huh? Skipped breakfast today?" He was already taking the wheelchair's handles as he spoke, and Madeline allowed it. They got Bella settled and swapped numbers. Then, Caleb pressed a chocolate bar into her hand. "For your sugar levels, have a bite." Madeline's laughter bubbled up. "Caleb, you still keep chocolate on you after all this time?" "Just a habit," he said with a chuckle. That little piece of chocolate seemed to bridge the gap that had grown between them. "How about lunch? It's already noon." Madeline bit her lip, uncertain. However, Caleb was already tugging her along. "There's this great little place I know nearby. You'll love it." Trevon managed to swing by the hospital after his meeting wrapped up. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health. They suggested bringing Madeline in, thinking she might be the key to why he felt off. He left the hospital with that thought, only to see Madeline and Caleb, all smiles, heading into a cozy diner. Madeline's smile was something new, something he had never seen, and it stopped him in his tracks. He took a moment before climbing into his car. From the driver's seat, Simon caught Trevon in the mirror. "Mr. Gibson, wasn't that Mrs. Gibson? Should we pick her up?" Trevon watched them disappear into the diner, a place he would never dream of entering. "No, let's not," he murmured. Simon arched an eyebrow, shot a look of faint scorn at the diner, and sped off. Trevon was reclining in the back seat, eyes closed, soaking in a moment of peace. A few minutes in, a wave of relief washed over him, leaving him feeling surprisingly refreshed. It took him a moment to realize that he was embodying Madeline's happiness. What could possibly be so special about that little shop to make her that cheerful? However, that sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles they served was exceptional—tangy and invigorating. It had been days since Madeline had enjoyed a meal so thoroughly. She even decided to get an extra serving to go. Caleb chuckled. "Noodles never taste as good reheated. Wait, didn't you love spicy food? What's with the switch?" Madeline smiled. "I haven't really switched. This is just that good." She was known for her love of spicy dishes, and even Trevon, the health nut, had found his tastes swayed by her. It was hard to argue with Madeline's culinary magic. Her cooking was irresistible to most. Back home, Madeline had barely set down her takeout when her phone rang. It was Yeneth Collins, her best friend. "Madeline, I've got some good and bad news." Feeling a bit worn out, Madeline sank into the couch. "Go on." "The good news is that you've been chosen to draw the new character for Skylandia. They've sent the contract over to you already." A spark of excitement flickered across Madeline's face as she reached for her laptop to check her email. "And the bad news?" Yeneth sighed heavily. "Lydia is the new art director for Skylandia. She just got the job today. I wouldn't have pushed you to take this gig if I'd known." Since marrying Trevon right after college, Madeline had not returned to the workforce, finding solace and passion in her art. Her style was distinctive, not exactly mainstream, with a focus on creating captivating illustrations. When Yeneth got involved with Skylandia, she thought Madeline's artwork was a perfect fit and put her name forward. Madeline smiled. "No way. The contract's terms are decent. Can't miss an opportunity of making money just because of her." She was always hustling for cash, especially with Bella's medical bills piling up. It meant biting her tongue whenever the Sanders family got tight-fisted. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" "Totally. I freelance under the name 'Lily Mora'. Who will connect the dots?" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open as Trevon walked in. Chapter 5 Madeline's instinct was to snap her laptop shut. "Give me a second." She quickly ended the call and turned to face Trevon. "What's got you home at this hour?" Trevon eyed her hurried movements and washed his hands before replying, "Just needed to pick something up." Madeline responded with a noncommittal hum. His gaze landed on a nearby takeaway box. It was the sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles. It looked just like the one she had had for lunch. Was it really that tasty? A jolt of panic hit Madeline, and she blurted out, "It's for Yeneth, not me." Back when they were newlyweds, Madeline had grabbed some street sausages, and Trevon had gone into a tailspin, bombarding her with articles about the filth of street vendors and the dangers of eating out. Since then, she had avoided eating street food around him. However, she had slipped up and forgotten to stash the evidence. Trevon's chuckle was detached as his eyes drifted to a notebook on the table. Madeline's heart was pounding, and she pushed aside the wave of nausea to dash toward the notebook—her secret journal of conceive appointments. The last thing she wanted was for Trevon to find out she was expecting. However, Trevon was quicker. He stretched out his arm and lifted the notebook from Madeline's reach. Without regard for her protests, he calmly flipped it open. The 'Prenatal Appointment Schedule' header stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze landing on Madeline. Madeline felt her heart jump into her throat. "Is this for Yeneth, too?" Trevon asked. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Madeline quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Yeneth's getting married, thinking about having kids, so I was helping her research." Trevon's suspicion did not wane. "So, why the panic?" Madeline's forehead creased. She let go of the notebook and looked away. "I didn't want you to think I was up to something." Madeline's beauty was marred by her recent illness. Her pale face was then tinged with the flush of sickness, making her look even more vulnerable. Trevon felt a twinge in his chest, and his annoyance grew. Her cold was messing with his work. He tossed the notebook back to Madeline. "I don't have time for this. You should be resting, not running around. If you show up to a divorce proceeding looking like this, people will think I'm the bad guy." Madeline silently clutched the notebook with her head bowed. … At the steakhouse, Lydia stared at her barely touched steak, her mood souring by the minute. When she heard Trevon returned to the Angelic Garden Residence, her annoyance turned to outright anger. "Madeline, that witch!" She whipped out her phone and dialed Skylar's number. Madeline had just reviewed the casting call from Skylandia, wrapped up her draft, and was stretching after a long day when Skylar's call came through. "Get over here tonight. If you don't show up, I'm tossing your mom's stuff." The line went dead. Madeline thought she had taken care of all Bella's things, so what could possibly be left at the Sanders' place? She could not risk it, so she hailed a cab and headed over. The Sanders' mansion was ablaze with lights, screaming new money from every gilded corner. Madeline stood at the entrance, taking in the garish display, and figured Skylar was behind it. Skylar greeted her with a grin, tugging her inside. "I just knew you'd come." Madeline jerked her hand away. "Cut the act, Skylar. There's no one else here. I did what you asked, so where's my mom's stuff?" Chapter 6 Before Skylar could answer, a sharp snap echoed from the side. "Madeline, watch how you talk to my mom!" It was Yale Sanders, Lydia's little brother. With his shoulder-length purple hair and arms sleeved in tattoos, he looked every bit the wannabe gangster. He had been coddled by Skylar all his life, and with the Sanders' wealth, he had gathered a gang of street toughs to back him up. Madeline did not expect him to be there but gave him a cool look and brushed him off. Just then, Cilix descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the air. "Yale!" Yale sulked, his lips puckered as he flopped onto the sofa, clearly annoyed. Cilix motioned for Madeline to take a seat at the dining table. "It's not every day we get your sister back home. I figured a family dinner was in order. Have a seat, will you? I had Mom whip up your favorite fish tacos." Skylar quickly dished some out for her. The oily sheen and the subtle fishy scent made Madeline wrinkle her nose and push the plate away. "I caught a cold and lost my appetite. I'm just here to grab a few things, and I'll be out." Cilix squinted, and Skylar, unable to contain herself, plopped down next to Madeline. "When are you planning on divorcing Trevon, huh? Your dad and I have already scoped out a new guy for you. He's ready to tie the knot and won't wait forever." A resigned feeling washed over Madeline. With a mocking smile, she murmured, "Really? Who's this wonderful match?" Skylar perked up and replied, "He's from a solid family. One of your dad's business partners. The guy owns a string of factories. Marry him, and you'll be the boss. They wouldn't even look twice at a divorcee if it wasn't for your dad's connections." She made it sound like a fairy tale. Madeline cut to the chase. "The owner of these factories? How old?" Skylar hesitated, then chuckled. "Not too old. He's just a bit over forty and in the prime of his life. It'll be your second marriage, so you can't afford to be choosy. Plus, they've promised to cut your dad a deal if you marry in. Consider it a tribute to your mom." Three years had passed, and Madeline's disdain for her family's ways was as strong as ever. She glared at Cilix. "Over forty? You're okay with this, being not much older yourself?" Cilix looked pained as he spoke, "Skylar's just trying to do what's best for you. Remarrying and bringing your mom into the mix, finding someone okay with that wasn't easy. Skylar really went out of her way for you." Skylar nodded earnestly. It had indeed been a challenge. Madeline needed to be married off and kept far away to avoid causing Lydia any more headaches. "Don't worry, the guy doesn't have kids. Everything in the future will be yours and your children's. It's a real stroke of luck." Madeline suddenly chimed in, "It's true. These kinds of terms are hard to come by. You've really outdone yourself, but…" Breaking from her usual composure, Madeline locked eyes with Cilix. "I was clear yesterday. I just want what my mom is entitled to—her shares. Those shares are peanuts compared to being Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family." Cilix remained expressionless, but his eyes were calculative. "Your mom's shares?" Thinking she had swayed Cilix, Skylar piped up in a shrill tone. "What shares does her mother have? The Sanders family fortune is all thanks to me and Cilix. It's got nothing to do with your loony mom." Madeline's glare whipped towards Skylar, sharp enough to shut her up. "Apologize." "Why should I? Your mom's the crazy one." Without warning, a cup of scalding water splashed across Skylar's face, and she let out a scream. However, before Madeline could react, she was yanked back forcefully. A second later, she was punched in the face. "You owe her an apology!" Chapter 7 Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline. Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her. Conceived had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation. The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch. Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen." Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down. She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever. As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him. "One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!" Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped. He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?" Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day." Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?" Yale did not budge. Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down." Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back." Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix. Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?" Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word. The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness. Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!" The pair entered the room. Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?" Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now." With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside. Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?" Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh. "So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?" "Is this enough for you?" Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there. That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again. He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand. She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up. The room fell silent. Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why? Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency. Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart. Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet." He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time." With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449437975_437972599066518_4726668197117536898_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=tALqTn0n9QkQ7kNvgFuaL_p&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYDq6oKgS7xSbAfZDE2-WN8pTuYLxYSdajWcCoT4My02eQ&oe=6707B545	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,125	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101965}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 "You'll have the test results in about an hour." The nurse's smile was gentle and reassuring as she took the vial of blood from Madeline Sanders. Madeline held a cotton swab to her arm and settled into a chair in the waiting area. She was a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with hope. She had a hunch she was conceived, and that hospital visit was just to make sure. Three years ago, Trevon Gibson was involved in a terrible car crash that left him comatose, with doctors saying he would never wake up. Lydia Sanders, Trevon's high school sweetheart and Madeline's half-sister, did not waste any time and jetted off abroad for her studies. Somehow, Trevon's grandmother—Edith Gibson—figured that Madeline was Trevon's lucky charm and insisted she marry him. The Gibson family promised to care for Madeline's mother, who was lost in her own world of madness. Madeline felt trapped but agreed to the marriage. Little did everyone know that Madeline was secretly in love with Trevon for years. To everyone's surprise, Trevon woke up after the wedding. However, Madeline's joy was short-lived. Trevon's first words to her were icy and calculated. "Out of respect for my grandmother, I'll take you as Mrs. Gibson for three years. When Lydia returns in three years, I will marry her." Madeline had braced herself to play along with that deal, ready to step aside when the time came. However, life threw a curveball a month and a half ago. Trevon stumbled home after drowning his sorrows in wine that day, and Madeline single-handedly managed to drag him inside. Supporting a drunken Trevon was like moving a boulder—each step a battle of strength. Madeline and Trevon could no longer keep themselves upright and crumpled to the floor just inside the front door. Their lips brushed together in the fall, an accidental kiss that sent Madeline's heart racing. Trevon was a notorious germaphobe, avoiding physical contact like the plague. However, that unexpected kiss seemed to unlock something in him, and he leaned in for another. Madeline was caught off guard, but she did not resist. Later, in the quiet aftermath, Madeline could not bear to stay in the bed they shared. She tiptoed around the sleeping Trevon, erasing any trace of what had happened between them. The hospital was a hive of activity, but Madeline felt alone in the crowd. With trembling hands, she opened the lab results. 'Early stage of conceive. Recommend a follow-up ultrasound.' Joy flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind her hand to muffle her giggles. Regardless of the state of her marriage, that baby was a precious gift. She was eager to tell Trevon, her fingers hovering over her phone. However, she hesitated. Trevon's germaphobia was not just about objects—it extended to people. She had seen him scrub his hands raw after a mere handshake. However, wine had loosened his inhibitions that one night. Would he believe the baby was his? Doubt clouded Madeline's mind, bringing a headache and a wave of nausea. She was jostled as a group of doctors in white coats rushed by, nearly sending her phone flying. "Emergency! Please step aside," a nurse said, flashing Madeline a quick, apologetic smile before dashing off. Madeline took a deep breath, watching the commotion unfold. Her gaze drifted to the emergency room doors without much thought. However, in a heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. Trevon was there, shielding Lydia as they stepped down from the ambulance. He guided her gently onto a stretcher and, with a team around them, made a beeline for the VIP suite. A chilling shiver sliced through Madeline, her knees buckling as she clung to the nearby railing for support. Lydia was back. In the hospital room, the doctor briefed Trevon. "It seems like a mild concussion, but we'll need the test results to be sure." Trevon's expression was serious. "Speed it up. Use the VIP route." Lydia, stretched out on the gurney, smiled weakly at Trevon. "You're always so kind to me." Lydia pouted as she continued, "I wasn't paying attention. Who would've thought a bike bump could lead to a concussion? In Ameristan, people usually slow down on their own." Trevon gave her a fleeting, detached look. A flicker of worry crossed Lydia's face. "Trevon, with Skylandia's tight deadlines, isn't my accident going to set us back a lot?" Skylandia was the latest venture from Trevon's gaming empire, Xystos Tech, and Lydia had returned to lead the art on it. "I won't stay here. I have to get back to work," she declared, attempting to get out of bed. Trevon was quick to intervene, his hand on her shoulder easing her back down. "Don't be childish." As the tender scene unfolded, Madeline watched them outside the VIP room with gritted teeth. Trevon was notorious for his meticulous ways, but he did have a soft spot. He was not always distant. He just saved all his warmth for Lydia. Madeline felt a wave of emotion as she teared up. She touched her nose and fought the tears. Without really knowing why, she found herself pulling out her phone and calling Trevon. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Trevon's face froze for a moment as he checked his phone, then casually handed it off to his assistant, Simon Taylors. "Tell her I'm tied up in a meeting." Madeline's heart clenched as Trevon's annoyed expression flickered across his face. Simon, moving to the side, answered Madeline's call softly. "Hello, Mrs. Gibson. Mr. Gibson is busy in a meeting. Is there something you need?" Madeline's lips twitched with a defeated smile. "No, it's nothing. I just hit the wrong button." Simon frowned. "Mr. Gibson's schedule is packed. Please be more careful in the future, Mrs. Gibson." The future? Was there even a future to speak of? Lydia, overhearing Simon, gave Trevon a subtle glance. She casually showed off the pink Hello Kitty bandage on her hand. Trevon's eyes snapped to it, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "You still haven't kicked that old habit, I see." Lydia forced a smile. "Well, you know I've always been fond of Hello Kitty." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to soften. Madeline could not stand it any longer. Clutching her phone, she turned around and left. She thought one night could change things, but it was just wishful thinking. Despite the autumn season, Redenbaugh City was sweltering, and the hospital's air conditioning was cranked up, sending chills down her spine. She felt light-headed, as if she were floating on air. Suddenly, a little boy darted into her path, bumping into her. Madeline's face went pale as she caught the little boy, but in doing so, she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. The fall sent a chill up her spine, and she held her belly, too afraid to move. The boy, however, started wailing, drawing curious glances from passersby. His mother rushed over and gave him a quick once-over. When she found him unscathed, she pulled him into a tight embrace before turning to Madeline with fury. "Can't you watch where you're going? You ran into my baby! How will you make this right?" Madeline, her mind on the baby she was carrying, bit back her pain and chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made her way to the maternity ward upstairs. The mother was not having it, yanking on Madeline's arm. "You think you can just hit someone and leave?" Madeline, nearly tripping over, turned slightly and offered calmly, "Should we review the security footage?" The woman, clutching her son, stormed off. Madeline felt her vision darken as she clutched her chest. She leaned against the railing, immobilized. In the VIP ward, Lydia gazed at Trevon longingly and leaned in for a kiss. Trevon, who was aloof, felt a wave of nausea as she got close. His vision blurred, and his chest tightened. He flinched and shoved Lydia away. Chapter 2 "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look." Trevon, fresh from the hospital, confronted Madeline with a request for divorce. The image of Lydia's hurt look lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of resignation. His rejection was not just about his aversion to germs. It was also the sudden sickness and weakness that overtook him. He dismissed it as a one-off, which was not worth worrying about. However, faced with Madeline, the discomfort was undeniable. Madeline, still reeling from her hospital visit, was blindsided by the divorce papers laid out before her. It took a moment for her to find her voice, and when she did, it quivered. "Do we really have to end this?" "Yes." Madeline's grip tightened, and the question she could not suppress spilled out. "Is it because Lydia's back?" Trevon loosened his tie, his face turning to stone. "Didn't I make myself clear three years ago?" He had, and she had accepted it. However… "If... Just if..." Madeline hesitated, biting her lip. Trevon was impatient. "Madeline, you can't always want more." She looked up sharply, disbelief etched on her face. Did he think she was haggling over the divorce terms? With several deliberate taps on the table, Trevon continued, "Indeed, you've done everything required of being a wife these past three years. There's a modest place near Johnsrud. It's yours now. That's the best I can do. Don't make me lose respect for you." Madeline's response was trapped in her throat as she smiled bitterly. Three years of marriage, and her reward was a house. Should she be thankful? He was determined to get the divorce over with, by any means necessary. There was no need to mention the baby. It would only complicate how he saw her. She did not need a man whose heart belonged to another. Madeline felt nauseous, feeling like she needed to purge immediately. She crouched down to clutch the bin and gagged, but nothing came up. Trevon watched, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Why did her sickness stir something in him? Was it a mere coincidence? Seeing her ashen face, it was clear she was unwell. Trevor gave Madeline a questioning look. "Are you sick? When did it start? What's wrong?" Madeline felt the urge to throw up but could not, which only intensified her discomfort. Clinging to the trash can seemed like the only thing she could do. At the sound of his question, her fingers tensed uncontrollably. She forced a casual response. "Maybe it's just a cold. No big deal." "Answer me!" His voice turned sharp, sending a jolt through Madeline, and she murmured almost without thinking. "This afternoon, when you were… I'm just feeling a bit of chest tightness, weak limbs, and a touch of nausea. Typical cold symptoms." She did not bring up the hospital visit, quickly labeling it a cold to avoid any wild guesses. The timing and the symptoms lined up perfectly. 'So, it's because we caught a cold at the same time?' Trevon wondered. Madeline finally let go of her resistance. She deliberately avoided the divorce papers on the table and fetched the sour orange she had bought earlier from the fridge. Her mouth was unbearably uncomfortable, and she craved the relief of something sour. After all, she would need some strength in her hand to sign those papers. The moment she took out the sour orange, its tangy scent filled the room. Catching a glimpse of Trevon standing to the side, watching her with a frown, she hesitated before offering, "Want one?" Trevon looked away, clearly uninterested. Madeline chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. You're not into sour stuff." However, as she sliced into the vibrant sour orange and its juicy interior burst with a potent tangy aroma, Trevon seemed unable to look away. Madeline was about to take a bite when she noticed Trevon approaching. His towering presence felt like a wall closing in, making the kitchen feel smaller by the second. Instinctively, Madeline stepped back. "If you don't like it, then I'll just..." Before she could finish, Trevon was at the sink, lathering up with soap, washing his hands with deliberate care three times before reaching for a piece of the sour orange. He scrunched his forehead, eyeing the orange for a long moment before popping it into his mouth. Madeline's jaw dropped in astonishment. However, Trevon did not spit it out. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before looking at her seriously. "Next time, make sure the knife's washed three times, okay?" The urge to bite into that tangy orange slice was irresistible. Sure enough, the sour kick seemed to soothe his queasy stomach. It was not just some bug. His nausea had kicked in right after Madeline's, as if he was only sick because she was. What was up with that? Trevon made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. Madeline gave a simple "Oh" in response. They finished the orange together, a moment of closeness they had not felt in three years. After washing her hands, Madeline looked up at Trevon. Sharing that sour fruit seemed to have bridged the gap between them, if only a little. However, their journey together was nearing its end. She murmured, "I'll sign the divorce papers." It was like cashing out after three years. A million and five hundred thousand, and a house to her name. She was coming out ahead. When she was about to sign, Trevon snatched the papers away. "We'll add another house to the deal. Wait for the lawyer's final draft." Madeline nodded, still in a daze. Suddenly, Trevon's phone buzzed and Lydia's whiny voice came through as he picked up the call. "Trevon, when are you coming? I'm bored." Madeline gripped her pen so hard her thumb whitened, nearly snapping it. Trevon ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Madeline stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. "How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?" "We'll talk when I'm back," Trevon replied before the door slammed shut behind him. The house, once filled with life, echoed with emptiness. Madeline chuckled at herself, shook off the silence, and went to the kitchen to whip up some noodles. After all, she had to think about the little one growing inside her. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Trevon, who might have forgotten something, she swung the door open only to be greeted by unwelcome faces. Madeline's warmth vanished. "What are you two doing here?" Cilix Sanders, her father, smiled and said, "You weren't picking up, so your mom and I thought we'd drop by." Her phone did show a string of missed calls. Ignoring their calls was nothing new, but their sudden visit was unexpected. "My mom's lost her mind, locked up in Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital. Did you forget to visit her, or did you forget she's there?" Skylar Lowe, Madeline's stepmother, stood beside Cilix in her flawless outfit. She looked nothing like someone who had toiled in the fields. However, her sharp and calculative eyes matched her biting tone. "Such disrespect! Where are your manners?" Madeline was furious. If she truly lacked manners, Skylar would have been long gone. It was Skylar's appearance, after all, that had tipped her mother over the edge. However, Madeline had been biding her time, collecting proof. They would all pay, eventually. Pushing down the bile, she asked coolly, "So, what brings you here?" "Let's talk inside," was all they said. Once they were in, Madeline poured water into two glasses, her hands steady as stone. Madeline's calm and compliant facade only fueled Skylar's ego. With an arrogant head tilt, she announced, "Your sister's back in town. It's time you end things with Trevon and give up your title as Mrs. Gibson to her!" Madeline fought the impulse to douse Skylar with water as she gripped the kettle firmly. "Give it up? I'm not following you." Madeline's gaze shifted to Cilix. "You told me when Trevon was in that coma, the company was strapped for cash. Marrying Trevon was the only way to afford my mom's medical bills. I married into the Gibson family for the sake of the Sanders family. How did Lydia end up taking my place as the daughter-in-law of the Gibson family?" Chapter 3 "I was looking out for the Sanders family too," Cilix said as he sipped his water. "The Sanders-Gibson family alliance is crucial. Three years by Trevon's side, and what? No kids, no hold on his heart, no benefits for the Sanders family. Now that Lydia's back, along with her bond with Trevon, these issues will vanish. I can even afford better care for your mother." Cilix's duplicity struck Madeline once more. Madeline countered, "Did you forget why Lydia left the country? Or do you think the Gibsons have forgotten too?" "That's why we're asking you to initiate the divorce with Trevon," Cilix replied. Madeline saw right through their plot. She would step aside, letting Lydia take the lead, and the Sanders family would reap all the rewards. After a tense silence, Madeline broke the ice. "I'm willing to divorce Trevon, but on one condition. I want my mom's shares—the ones she's entitled to." Cilix instantly became furious. Once upon a time, the Sanders family was a picture of unity. Cilix, who came from nothing, married Bella Ziegler—Madeline's mother—and quickly turned his fortune around with a garment factory. However, Bella paid a steep price, severing ties with her own family. It was not until Skylar—previously 'Jolene', with her kids in tow—showed up that Bella realized the magnitude of her mistake. She battled depression for years, and the strain of the revelation only deepened her illness. That was when Cilix dropped the divorce bomb. He played the bankruptcy card during the split, claiming all assets were tied up. Bella was left with scraps. However, once the divorce papers were signed, Cilix's business miraculously bounced back. Ever the opportunist, Cilix kept footing Bella's medical bills, basking in the glow of his newfound reputation. Madeline only pieced it all together as she grew up—her mother had been played. She had been nursing a plan to set things right ever since. The meeting ended with frosty treatment all around. Madeline shut the door behind them, collapsed onto the couch, and lost herself in the darkness outside the window. … Dawn's light crept into the room. Madeline shielded her eyes and took a moment to adjust before getting up reluctantly. Nausea washed over her in an unforgiving wave. Trevon had not come home all night. Madeline's emotions were a mess—resignation laced with a hint of disappointment. However, above all, there was relief. It was as if her decision to let go the day before had freed her from hope. Madeline sank back into the pillows. The click of the electronic lock signaled an arrival at the door. Madeline glanced up, and there was Lydia, swathed in designer elegance, striding in with a smile that could light up the room. "Madeline, it's been ages." Rising slowly, Madeline perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes a storm of loathing. "Who said you could come in? Leave!" Lydia's smile only grew. "Trevon sent me, of course. He spent last night at the hospital with me, then dashed off to work at dawn. He asked me to pick up a suit for him." A shadow crossed Madeline's face. So, Trevon was with Lydia last night. She had waited like a fool on that couch all night long, clinging to his promise. 'We'll talk when I get back.' "You're just like your mother, always the homewrecker," Madeline spat. Lydia's laughter rang out. "Who's the real homewrecker? It's the unloved one. Even the lock's code is my birthday. Trevon's heart is still with me. Madeline, you've been using my birthday to open this door for the past three years. That must sting, doesn't it?" Madeline's eyes flickered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She inhaled sharply before smiling mockingly. "Is technology that archaic where you come from? We've moved on to facial recognition, or fingerprints at the very least. Key codes are a thing of the past." Lydia's smile faltered, her composure slipping for a split second. "Outdated or not, Trevon's word is law." Madeline could not be bothered with petty squabble. Her nausea was getting worse. She gestured toward Trevon's bedroom. "His stuff's in there. Help yourself." With a smug grin, Lydia disappeared into the room and emerged moments later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. Before she took off, she sauntered over to Madeline, flashed her hand, and there it was—a dazzling diamond ring. There was also that cutesy pink bandage on her finger. "My mom says you're dragging your feet on the divorce—kinda funny, don't you think? Trevon's put a ring on it, so why embarrass yourself? Time to get a clue." She leaned in, whispering to Madeline, "Face it, you've never been able to outdo me in anything since we were kids." Old memories came rushing back. Her favorite things, her mentors, her dad, her very home—Lydia had snatched them all away with just a few words. Madeline squinted and swiftly yanked the bandage off Lydia's hand. "You've always been into taking my stuff, huh?" She eyed Lydia's pristine hand and tossed the bandage into the bin with a look of disgust. "Bandages are disposable. Get a new one, and it's as good as ever. However, you know what's really scary about a guy who's been down the aisle twice?" Madeline rose to her feet, locking eyes with Lydia as she smiled slyly. "It's the lingering lessons from his ex. His style, habits, tastes, thoughts—they're all tinged with the ghost of the woman before you. Chew on that. Good luck." "Madeline!" Ignoring her, Madeline grabbed a bag of clothes and thrust it into Lydia's arms. "So long, no need for goodbyes!" Behind the wheel on her way to work, Lydia smacked the steering wheel, Madeline's parting shot replaying in her head. The phone buzzed. Lydia answered with a huff. "What's up with the wake-up call?" Wren Naylor, Lydia's assistant, hesitated before speaking up with caution. "Ms. Sanders, the planning team wants to add an illustrator to the project. They've already picked someone out." "They've what now? Since when does planning get to call the shots on art hires? They really need to stay in their lane." Wren stayed quiet. Lydia bit back her frustration. "Alright, I'm heading to the office soon. I'll sort it out with them." Instead of going to her department when she arrived at the office, Lydia went to the top floor to drop off some clothes for Trevon. Trevon accepted the clothes, but his brow creased in confusion. Lydia felt a twinge of worry. "Something wrong with the clothes?" They were definitely not his usual brand. Madeline would not slip up like that. "Madeline wasn't there when you picked these up?" Realizing the brand mismatch, Lydia understood her mistake. Madeline's earlier words echoed in her head. Lydia bit her lip, looking hurt. "Madeline just handed me these and shooed me out when I arrived. You know she's never been fond of me." She sighed resignedly and continued, "Typical Madeline, knowing you're in a rush and still acting petty with me. Should I run to the store and grab you a new set?" Trevon cut her off. "Don't bother. You've got work to do." Lydia clammed up, stepping back into silence. Trevon let out a quiet sigh. "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault. Clothes are the least of our worries. We've got the Skylandia project to focus on." In just a week, Skylandia would unveil its magical realms to eager eyes, with artistry at its heart. Lydia, fresh from her hiatus, was steering that ship—the crown jewel of the year for Xystos Tech. She knew the drill, but duty called, and she stepped out with a promise to return for lunch. Madeline, alone then, rinsed a handful of cherry tomatoes, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside her. She scrolled through her phone, the barrage of prenatal check-ups looming large and daunting. Midway through her meticulous note-taking, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find Simon pulling a long face. Chapter 4 "Mr. Gibson sent me some clothes." Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Again?" Simon's eyes flickered with annoyance as he asked, "Why'd you send Mrs. Yagle's clothes?" Simon referred to Trevon's mom, Riley Yagle—a woman whose kindness was only matched by her absentmindedness. Madeline recalled the ill-fitting, off-brand clothes that Trevon probably ditched without a second thought. "Mr. Gibson says, 'Don't get snippy and hold things up,'" Simon relayed with a hint of sternness. Madeline could not help but chuckle, amused by his blind trust. "Lydia told Trevon I picked out the clothes?" Did Trevon need to believe everything Lydia said? Simon rushed her along. Madeline handed him a fresh set of clothes, but her grip lingered as she responded steadily. "Simon, you've been Trevon's right-hand man for what, three, four years now? Do you realize why you're still at the bottom rung, just an assistant? You're good at sizing people up by their titles, but that's not really a skill an assistant needs. Why don't you take a page from Mr. Harris's book?" Trevon did have a star assistant—Daniel Harris—who was so capable that he was sent overseas to handle big deals. That was when Simon got the call to step in. Simon's face went through a mixture of pale and flushed as he absorbed her criticism. Madeline, who was usually quiet, had just thrown shade in his face. He bit back his retort, finally huffing in annoyance and storming off. Madeline let out a soft laugh, brushing off the encounter. With visiting hours ticking closer, Madeline headed to Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital to see Bella. It was more of a wellness retreat than a hospital, nestled right next to Redenbaugh City's fanciest private clinic. Getting in was not easy, but thanks to the Gibson family pulling strings, Bella got a spot. Madeline wheeled her mom out into the courtyard, catching her up on the week's gossip and happenings. Bella was her usual self—unresponsive and staring off into space. Madeline sighed and took her mom's hand, resting it gently on her belly. "Mom, right here, there's a little one on the way. Even with Trevon talking about divorce, I'm keeping this baby. You've got to come back to us. Who will help me with this little one if you don't?" She nestled against Bella's legs, craving the comfort of her mother's presence. Unseen by Madeline, Bella's eyes flickered—a brief, almost missed flutter. "Madeline?" A voice, laced with surprise, called out for her. Madeline looked up to see a man in a lab coat looking her way. The sun was blinding, and Madeline squinted without recognizing the figure before her. There was something oddly familiar about the silhouette. It was not until he was close that she could see it was Caleb Jabs, her old college friend. With a warm smile, Caleb teased, "Madeline, can't you recognize an old friend after just three years?" He opened his arms for a hug, like nothing had changed. Madeline hesitated, then offered a hand for a handshake instead. Caleb's smile faltered, then returned. "Right, we're not on campus anymore." He shook her hand before releasing it, stealing a glance at the wedding ring on her finger. Through their chat, Madeline learned that he had just returned from overseas and that his uncle was running the local private hospital. Caleb nodded toward Bella with a slight smile. "And who is this?" Madeline's smile vanished. "My mom. She's been like this since she had a breakdown three years ago." A breakdown? It looked serious, as if she had lost all touch with the world. What could have caused it? Caleb pushed down his questions, his heart aching for Madeline. "These past three years must've been tough on you." Madeline seemed more grounded than in her college days, but her eyes were shadowed with concern. Madeline shook her head. "It's time for us to head back." She was not one to bare her soul to just anyone. As she rose to leave, she wobbled slightly. Caleb reached out to steady her. "You're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should get checked out." Madeline steadied herself and took a step back. "It's just low blood sugar. I'm fine." Caleb watched Madeline sidestep with a calm smile, not the least bit ruffled. "Back in college, you were always dealing with low blood sugar. Still battling that, huh? Skipped breakfast today?" He was already taking the wheelchair's handles as he spoke, and Madeline allowed it. They got Bella settled and swapped numbers. Then, Caleb pressed a chocolate bar into her hand. "For your sugar levels, have a bite." Madeline's laughter bubbled up. "Caleb, you still keep chocolate on you after all this time?" "Just a habit," he said with a chuckle. That little piece of chocolate seemed to bridge the gap that had grown between them. "How about lunch? It's already noon." Madeline bit her lip, uncertain. However, Caleb was already tugging her along. "There's this great little place I know nearby. You'll love it." Trevon managed to swing by the hospital after his meeting wrapped up. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health. They suggested bringing Madeline in, thinking she might be the key to why he felt off. He left the hospital with that thought, only to see Madeline and Caleb, all smiles, heading into a cozy diner. Madeline's smile was something new, something he had never seen, and it stopped him in his tracks. He took a moment before climbing into his car. From the driver's seat, Simon caught Trevon in the mirror. "Mr. Gibson, wasn't that Mrs. Gibson? Should we pick her up?" Trevon watched them disappear into the diner, a place he would never dream of entering. "No, let's not," he murmured. Simon arched an eyebrow, shot a look of faint scorn at the diner, and sped off. Trevon was reclining in the back seat, eyes closed, soaking in a moment of peace. A few minutes in, a wave of relief washed over him, leaving him feeling surprisingly refreshed. It took him a moment to realize that he was embodying Madeline's happiness. What could possibly be so special about that little shop to make her that cheerful? However, that sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles they served was exceptional—tangy and invigorating. It had been days since Madeline had enjoyed a meal so thoroughly. She even decided to get an extra serving to go. Caleb chuckled. "Noodles never taste as good reheated. Wait, didn't you love spicy food? What's with the switch?" Madeline smiled. "I haven't really switched. This is just that good." She was known for her love of spicy dishes, and even Trevon, the health nut, had found his tastes swayed by her. It was hard to argue with Madeline's culinary magic. Her cooking was irresistible to most. Back home, Madeline had barely set down her takeout when her phone rang. It was Yeneth Collins, her best friend. "Madeline, I've got some good and bad news." Feeling a bit worn out, Madeline sank into the couch. "Go on." "The good news is that you've been chosen to draw the new character for Skylandia. They've sent the contract over to you already." A spark of excitement flickered across Madeline's face as she reached for her laptop to check her email. "And the bad news?" Yeneth sighed heavily. "Lydia is the new art director for Skylandia. She just got the job today. I wouldn't have pushed you to take this gig if I'd known." Since marrying Trevon right after college, Madeline had not returned to the workforce, finding solace and passion in her art. Her style was distinctive, not exactly mainstream, with a focus on creating captivating illustrations. When Yeneth got involved with Skylandia, she thought Madeline's artwork was a perfect fit and put her name forward. Madeline smiled. "No way. The contract's terms are decent. Can't miss an opportunity of making money just because of her." She was always hustling for cash, especially with Bella's medical bills piling up. It meant biting her tongue whenever the Sanders family got tight-fisted. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" "Totally. I freelance under the name 'Lily Mora'. Who will connect the dots?" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open as Trevon walked in. Chapter 5 Madeline's instinct was to snap her laptop shut. "Give me a second." She quickly ended the call and turned to face Trevon. "What's got you home at this hour?" Trevon eyed her hurried movements and washed his hands before replying, "Just needed to pick something up." Madeline responded with a noncommittal hum. His gaze landed on a nearby takeaway box. It was the sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles. It looked just like the one she had had for lunch. Was it really that tasty? A jolt of panic hit Madeline, and she blurted out, "It's for Yeneth, not me." Back when they were newlyweds, Madeline had grabbed some street sausages, and Trevon had gone into a tailspin, bombarding her with articles about the filth of street vendors and the dangers of eating out. Since then, she had avoided eating street food around him. However, she had slipped up and forgotten to stash the evidence. Trevon's chuckle was detached as his eyes drifted to a notebook on the table. Madeline's heart was pounding, and she pushed aside the wave of nausea to dash toward the notebook—her secret journal of conceive appointments. The last thing she wanted was for Trevon to find out she was expecting. However, Trevon was quicker. He stretched out his arm and lifted the notebook from Madeline's reach. Without regard for her protests, he calmly flipped it open. The 'Prenatal Appointment Schedule' header stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze landing on Madeline. Madeline felt her heart jump into her throat. "Is this for Yeneth, too?" Trevon asked. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Madeline quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Yeneth's getting married, thinking about having kids, so I was helping her research." Trevon's suspicion did not wane. "So, why the panic?" Madeline's forehead creased. She let go of the notebook and looked away. "I didn't want you to think I was up to something." Madeline's beauty was marred by her recent illness. Her pale face was then tinged with the flush of sickness, making her look even more vulnerable. Trevon felt a twinge in his chest, and his annoyance grew. Her cold was messing with his work. He tossed the notebook back to Madeline. "I don't have time for this. You should be resting, not running around. If you show up to a divorce proceeding looking like this, people will think I'm the bad guy." Madeline silently clutched the notebook with her head bowed. … At the steakhouse, Lydia stared at her barely touched steak, her mood souring by the minute. When she heard Trevon returned to the Angelic Garden Residence, her annoyance turned to outright anger. "Madeline, that witch!" She whipped out her phone and dialed Skylar's number. Madeline had just reviewed the casting call from Skylandia, wrapped up her draft, and was stretching after a long day when Skylar's call came through. "Get over here tonight. If you don't show up, I'm tossing your mom's stuff." The line went dead. Madeline thought she had taken care of all Bella's things, so what could possibly be left at the Sanders' place? She could not risk it, so she hailed a cab and headed over. The Sanders' mansion was ablaze with lights, screaming new money from every gilded corner. Madeline stood at the entrance, taking in the garish display, and figured Skylar was behind it. Skylar greeted her with a grin, tugging her inside. "I just knew you'd come." Madeline jerked her hand away. "Cut the act, Skylar. There's no one else here. I did what you asked, so where's my mom's stuff?" Chapter 6 Before Skylar could answer, a sharp snap echoed from the side. "Madeline, watch how you talk to my mom!" It was Yale Sanders, Lydia's little brother. With his shoulder-length purple hair and arms sleeved in tattoos, he looked every bit the wannabe gangster. He had been coddled by Skylar all his life, and with the Sanders' wealth, he had gathered a gang of street toughs to back him up. Madeline did not expect him to be there but gave him a cool look and brushed him off. Just then, Cilix descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the air. "Yale!" Yale sulked, his lips puckered as he flopped onto the sofa, clearly annoyed. Cilix motioned for Madeline to take a seat at the dining table. "It's not every day we get your sister back home. I figured a family dinner was in order. Have a seat, will you? I had Mom whip up your favorite fish tacos." Skylar quickly dished some out for her. The oily sheen and the subtle fishy scent made Madeline wrinkle her nose and push the plate away. "I caught a cold and lost my appetite. I'm just here to grab a few things, and I'll be out." Cilix squinted, and Skylar, unable to contain herself, plopped down next to Madeline. "When are you planning on divorcing Trevon, huh? Your dad and I have already scoped out a new guy for you. He's ready to tie the knot and won't wait forever." A resigned feeling washed over Madeline. With a mocking smile, she murmured, "Really? Who's this wonderful match?" Skylar perked up and replied, "He's from a solid family. One of your dad's business partners. The guy owns a string of factories. Marry him, and you'll be the boss. They wouldn't even look twice at a divorcee if it wasn't for your dad's connections." She made it sound like a fairy tale. Madeline cut to the chase. "The owner of these factories? How old?" Skylar hesitated, then chuckled. "Not too old. He's just a bit over forty and in the prime of his life. It'll be your second marriage, so you can't afford to be choosy. Plus, they've promised to cut your dad a deal if you marry in. Consider it a tribute to your mom." Three years had passed, and Madeline's disdain for her family's ways was as strong as ever. She glared at Cilix. "Over forty? You're okay with this, being not much older yourself?" Cilix looked pained as he spoke, "Skylar's just trying to do what's best for you. Remarrying and bringing your mom into the mix, finding someone okay with that wasn't easy. Skylar really went out of her way for you." Skylar nodded earnestly. It had indeed been a challenge. Madeline needed to be married off and kept far away to avoid causing Lydia any more headaches. "Don't worry, the guy doesn't have kids. Everything in the future will be yours and your children's. It's a real stroke of luck." Madeline suddenly chimed in, "It's true. These kinds of terms are hard to come by. You've really outdone yourself, but…" Breaking from her usual composure, Madeline locked eyes with Cilix. "I was clear yesterday. I just want what my mom is entitled to—her shares. Those shares are peanuts compared to being Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family." Cilix remained expressionless, but his eyes were calculative. "Your mom's shares?" Thinking she had swayed Cilix, Skylar piped up in a shrill tone. "What shares does her mother have? The Sanders family fortune is all thanks to me and Cilix. It's got nothing to do with your loony mom." Madeline's glare whipped towards Skylar, sharp enough to shut her up. "Apologize." "Why should I? Your mom's the crazy one." Without warning, a cup of scalding water splashed across Skylar's face, and she let out a scream. However, before Madeline could react, she was yanked back forcefully. A second later, she was punched in the face. "You owe her an apology!" Chapter 7 Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline. Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her. Conceived had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation. The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch. Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen." Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down. She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever. As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him. "One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!" Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped. He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?" Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day." Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?" Yale did not budge. Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down." Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back." Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix. Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?" Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word. The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness. Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!" The pair entered the room. Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?" Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now." With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside. Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?" Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh. "So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?" "Is this enough for you?" Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there. That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again. He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand. She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up. The room fell silent. Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why? Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency. Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart. Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet." He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time." With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.	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2,102,136	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102139}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 A Messy Life and the Mafia Six months ago, I was a promising med student on the verge of all my dreams coming true, but now I’m just a waitress trying to start over in a new city. I know this restaurant I work at has ties to the infamous Onyx Mafia, but I didn’t have much choice—it's the best-paying job I could find. Besides, the scariest thing about working here isn’t the Mafia, it is the man at table eight flagging me down, obviously fuming. “What looks wrong here?” He snaps and I scan table eight's orders. Foie gras for the blonde in red, Peking duck for the pouty daughter—check. But the impatient bald man tapping his fingers? He got the risotto, not the ribeye currently in front of him. A cold sweat sweeps down my spine as I look between the squinting gaze of the man and the squiggles that are my handwriting. I still write like a surgeon, yet another reminder of my failed dreams. "Wait, I'm sorry... you ordered--" My hands tremble, and my heart sinks as I realize the kitchen couldn’t decipher my handwriting and just took a guess. Lucky me, their guess was wrong. "I-I think the kitchen--" Before I can finish my sentence, Jessica descends upon us like a vulture, risotto in hand. "Apologies for the inconvenience," she chimes in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Elise here is still learning the ropes." "I can tell," the man responds curtly, his attention entirely on Jessica, silently dismissing me. There goes my tip. "Sir, I noticed you’re drinking the 1984 Chateau. Let me send another round on the house for your troubles," Jessica offers breathlessly, her bosom on display as she leans in, her eyes batting just like they did back in high school. The man grunts in agreement as her fingers dig into my arm like talons. She whispers through clenched teeth, "Kitchen. Now." I bow my head obediently as I follow her into the chaos of the kitchen. When I moved here, I promised things were going to be different. I would be no one’s stepping stool, and yet here I am again, at the mercy of another girl who appears oblivious to the fact that we graduated high school. “Elise struck again, boys!” Tony, the sous chef, calls out, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. “What was it this time? Dropped another soup? Tripped and broke all the glasses?” In my defense, the soup incident happened because a man molested me, and Jessica tripped me while I was carrying glasses for an 18-person table. “Oh, tonight she gave one of our regulars the wrong meal.” “It’s the kitchen’s fault. I ordered a risotto, not a ribeye."I retort, pushing my glasses up as I glare at Jessica. “And who could tell with that chicken scratch handwriting?” Tony snorts. “Remember she wanted to be a surgeon,” Jessica sneers. “Doctors notoriously have terrible handwriting, but not waitresses.” The other kitchen staff snicker at her remark. They all think I went to med school and couldn’t cut it. But they don't know the truth, and it would be worse if they did. I take a deep breath, trying to push down my anger. "You were supposed to be a surgeon, marry Sirius, live your perfect little life," she snaps back, the mention of his name, Sirius, still a punch to the gut after all these years. I bite my lip to stifle the retort that threatens to spill from my lips and look down at my tennis shoes, a lump forming in my throat. I can still remember the feeling of the day he disappeared. I told everyone he loved me, that he would be back, and that he would never just leave me, but they were all right. He was gone. He didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t brave enough to say it to my face before disappearing. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again. It’d be a combination of running into his arms, waiting to see every bit of his life I missed, and kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. "But then you ended up at the bottom, where you’re meant to be." I hold my breath. I can’t show Jessica she’s getting to me. "Good thing Sirius came to his senses like we all knew he would," Jessica retorts. "Once he was done slumming it, he ran away from you as fast as possible. I mean, you practically ran him out of town." The lump in my throat swells as memories of his abandonment flood back, the pain still fresh. "You know what--" "Those better are words of gratitude, Elise, because I am two seconds away from firing you," Jessica interrupts, her smirk widening as she relishes in my discomfort. I swallow back my retort, facing Mr. Thompson, the restaurant manager. Mr. Thompson's stern gaze pierces through me as he approaches. "Elise, why do I have Mr. Kelsey asking for a free bottle of wine for his troubles?" "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." "You have been promising to do better for weeks, Elise. That is not enough anymore," he snaps. "I'll work harder, I swear," I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please." Mr. Thompson holds up a hand to silence me. "You've got one more chance, Elise, but you’re out of here if I hear one more complaint. Do you understand?" I nod frantically."Yes, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down. I promise." He scoffs, clearly unconvinced. "For the rest of your shift, you are exclusive to the VIPs upstairs," he continues, his tone stern. "They’re too drunk to notice your insolence." "Yes, sir," I whisper. "And you better be on your best behavior because the Mafia king is here," Mr. Thompson warns. "And if I don’t have your head, he will." I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, as I nod, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Mr. Thompson storms off into his office, leaving Jessica behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Looks like you're on thin ice, Elise," Jessica says, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Better watch your step." "Why? You’re going to trip me?" "I would never, but since you are exclusive to VIPs," Jessica hands me a tray of appetizers too heavy for me to hold without almost falling over. "Take this to table 19... the King’s subjects are there." I take a deep breath as I walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. But as I look up at the men sitting upstairs, a wave of dread washes over me, making me want to run in the opposite direction. They're overly comfortable, as if they own the place as if they own the world. And in a way, they do. The rumors swirling around the restaurant's ownership, whispers of connections to the mafia, suddenly feel all too real. Each step closer to the VIP room feels heavier, as if I am dragging myself closer. As I approach, the men’s eyes leering over me like predators sizing up their prey. The minute I set down the appetizers, a hand grips the back of my leg, sending a shiver down my spine. "Hey there, sweetheart," the man slurs, his breath reeking of booze as he pulls me into his lap. "Why don’t you clock out and hang with the big dogs?" I squirm, feeling his hand wander where it shouldn't."No. Stop it. I have to get back to work," I protest, trying to push him away. But he only laughs, his grip tightening as his friends jeer and egg him on. I squirm, feeling something hard poking me, I begin to panic. He hisses in excitement in my ear. “Yeah, baby, keep doing that.” I try to pull away, causing my glasses to go flying. Great, now I’m blind too. I struggle with my body, tears stinging as I attempt to slide out of his lap, “I need my glasses.” “You do not need glasses for what we are going to do.” He pinches my chin, leaning in as if he is going to kiss me, but the sound of a growling, cleared throat causes him to pause. Panic rises in my throat as I realize that none of these guys will help me and that going against the Mafia for some random waitress is a losing battle. "In my restaurant, we do not tolerate harassment of women," the voice declares, cutting through the VIP, firm and unwavering. The handsy man practically throws me onto the floor as he looks up at the gentleman standing in front of him. I turn to see, in my blurry haze, the silhouette of a man looming protectively over me, his presence exuding authority and strength. The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?” Chapter 2 Mafia King Knows Me？ “What, no!” I stand up, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man. “No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. “She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me. Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her bosoms and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear. “Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a call girl?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her alluring appeal. The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off. “I admire how they always seem to get their way.” Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but she is fully prepared to go much further than that. But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.” The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?” Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake bosoms to be a good call girl, but I see your point.” “It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense. “Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.” “No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly. “You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my hormonal drive? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.” “King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me. “You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.” “King, I’m sorry I-” “You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive. I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.” “They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-” “I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind. “Why are you working here?” I struggle back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are. In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.” The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.” “You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning. “I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command. “As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod. I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly. “Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?” “A great boyfriend. If that matters?” The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.” “What shot would I have after this if you ban her?” “None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.” His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name. Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him? Chapter 3 Rumors and Crisis I don’t breathe until the kitchen doors slam behind me. How does the Mafia King know my name, surely he knows all his employees' names. He may just be a great boss. Right, that’s it. The Mafia King is a great boss who would’ve thought? My breathing slows and I realize I’m so caught up in my thoughts I don’t feel the entire kitchen looking at me until Toni clears his throat. “Elise?” I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I don’t respond. Instead, Dawn, the pastry chef, approaches me with flour-covered hands. “Hey girly, are you okay? Did the King…hurt you?” I shake my hand no, a strangled breath releases from my lips, and Dawn sighs, squeezing my cheeks. “Good because the King has no right hurting a girl as innocent as you.” “Like that would’ve been his first time!” Kelsey, the saucier, laughs in the corner of the kitchen. “Kels, you’re not helping,” Dawn snaps, but Toni approaches us wickedly. “I heard his favorite way to murder is the bloody eagle.” “Toni!” I look at Dawn’s horrified face as she runs to cover my ears. “What's the bloody eagle?” I whisper. The dread I had swimming in my gut since the King first laid eyes on me bubbles to the surface. I feel like I could vomit. “All I’m going to say is ribs pulled through the back. If you want more details, do your research online.” I would not, but Kelsey laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. The King treats his subjects like their commodities, completely replaceable. He’s the youngest King ever, and you don’t get to be King in your twenties without a trail of blood behind you.” Kelsey points her ladle at us in warning, “So watch ya’ step, or the King will gut ya’ like a fish!” “Or hang your head above his fireplace, I heard the king loves a trophy, and a pretty head like yours would be perfect.” Toni swats at my hair and Dawn pushes him back to his station. “What is all this racket?! Kelsey you’re messing around and broke the sauce!” The Head Chef, Yolanda enters the kitchen with a stern look in her eyes, “And you! Why aren’t you running my plates?” “I-I…” I rub my hands back and forth, feeling the tension of being in trouble for the third time tonight. “She just had an interaction with the King. Leave her alone.” Dawn snaps. Dawn and Yolanda are childhood best friends, and Dawn is the only one who can talk to Yolanda that way and still have her job. Yolanda’s face pales as she walks closer to me, “You interacted with the King and made it out alive? Count your lucky stars.” Yolanda approaches me cautiously and I don’t realize all the stress is forcing tears to burn in my eyes. “That man is cold-blooded like a snake.” Despite the bile I balance in the back of my throat, I look Yolanda in the eye and shake my head, “No, he protected me. He knew my name.” “He knew your name because you have a name tag on your shirt.” Yolanda flicks my name tag and I look down at it, a pang of disappointment shivering through me. “Protect you?” Dawn questions, “You didn’t say anything about the King protecting you.” “That may be worse. A dangerous man like him may like you, want you.” Yolanda whispers. My eyes widened. My skin flushes as Yolanda and Dawn share a look with each other. The King knew my name. The King wants me. I remember the way he said boyfriend as if it was the most disgusting word on his tongue. But just as I spiral, Dawn and Yolanda break into laughter. “Girl, bless your heart! A man that fine wants you. You better be over the moon happy.” Dawn lightly hits her rag on my right arm, and I flinch, holding my breath. “I mean, those gray eyes are just delicious!” Kelsey chimes in. “Nope, it has to be black curly hair.” Those eyes, that hair remind me of Sirius. His eyes could be a storm with everyone else and clear with me. How a single curl always danced in the middle of his forehead, and I’d spend all day pushing it back. The days when he was my Sirius. The laughter snaps me out of my daze. “I bet he wakes up with his hair like that, just messy and perfect!” “Yolanda, I don’t know if you want to be him or sleep with him?” “Does it matter?” The entire kitchen erupts into laughter. “I would take him any way I could get him. He is so fine!” “So how did he look up close, Elise? A walking daydream, huh?” Kelsey leans over her pot, wiggling her eyebrows. I hide my head slightly, blush to creep up the apple of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I show the kitchen my glasses. “I broke my glasses. All I could see was tall, charming, and hot.” The entire kitchen boos. “You get close to the Mafia King, and your glasses break!” Dawn pouts, pushing me away, and I giggle for the first time in this entire situation. “Sorry, I can’t tell you how hot he is. You’re going to have to figure that out yourselves!” “Hey! Why is no one helping me out on the floor?” An upset waiter enters the kitchen looking around at us. “I’ll be right there, just let me get my contacts.” I head towards the break room and rummage inside my purse, revealing my contact lenses. I begin to replace my contacts, looking into the crappy workplace mirror, but once my vision is clear, all I can see is my missing earring. One of my silver earrings from Sirius, he got me for our last anniversary together. He’s already missing. I can lose the last thing he’s ever given me. I look over at the floor near my locker, but I know where it is. It’s in the VIP area. I turn on my heel towards the VIP area. The Mafia King's warning echoed in my mind, I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. It’s filled with the type of dangerous people, normal people shouldn’t be around.” I push his warning into the back of my mind. With a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs. I’ll be quick! In and out before anyone notices. As I enter the VIP area, I immediately fall to my knees, crawling around for the earring and hiding from the boisterous men laughing around the bar. I freeze when the King’s voice booms through the area, “You’re lucky I don’t collect your freaking head!” The music in the VIP clicks off. “Boss, it was just a girl!” The man snaps back and the entire area seems to hold their breath as the twinkle of something catches my eye. “A girl under my protection. The same way you are under my protection.” The King's voice is even and controlled again, “And don’t I always protect mine?” I contort my body, grabbing the dangled earring from underneath the couch. “Let me provide you with this small mercy. I promise you the alternative is lethal, and it would be a shame to murder you when you’re still useful to me.” The club music clicks back on as if nothing happened. I sit up on the floor, fixing the earring in my ear. When the footsteps descend towards me. I am not quick enough when I hear the humorless laughter of the handsy man, “You are the freaking pain of my existence. I’m on grunt duty because of you.” I look up, my eyes darting between him and the stairs. If I jump up and run. I should make it. I will make it. I propel myself off the floor, running towards the stairs, but the handsy man is quicker. He pulls me back by my hair, caging me in. My breath hitches as cold metal digs into my side. His breath gushes over my face in puffs thick with the scent of tobacco and gin. “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” Chapter 4 The Mafia King is My Ex? “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” His fingernails dig into my wrist, but I bite back any response watching his nostrils flare. “You got me suspended from duties because you rather spread your legs for the King than me.” He pulls me against him, snarling at my confident facade. I look down at the mark forming on my wrist, keeping my voice as even as possible, I say, “I do not want the King. I do not know the King.” He pushes me against the brick wall, and with my better judgment, I whimper, gripping the back of my head, “You dare lie to me? After all you have done, you freaking lie to me?” Spit sprays over my face, his eyes bulge out of his head as he holds me against the wall. The concrete dug into my skin. “Please,” I whisper. “Please?! Please! You purposefully lead me to the freaking slaughter, shaking your tight body for the king, begging him to punish me for your fault.” His wet breath drips down my face, and I look away towards the hallway leading to the King. I didn’t know the King. He did not need to come to my rescue, yet he did. Maybe the King liked me the way Dawn said, but what did it matter? I did not want him. “I am not sorry you were punished. I said no.” “Oh, so this is the little game we’re going to play? You say no, and mean yes.” A greedy, devious smile spread across the man's lips as if the idea of conquering me in such a manner excited him. “You little freaking tease.” His palm digs into my waist, and my eyes water over, straining to look down the hallway to the King. “No.” “You like causing trouble, huh? You like luring men in to watch them. ” I hear the click of his belt, a dooming sound. “You need to be taught a lesson, and I love punishing little girls with fresh mouths.” A voice and the click of a door opening cut the tension. “Boss, who even was she?” He pulls me into a corner. He pulls me in front of him and presses himself on me. His gun is tucked under my chin, and his arm is wrapped around my waist as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t make a freaking sound.” I watch the King walk down the hallway, most of his subjects a step or two behind him. The young member with dirty brown hair and colorful tattoos walks almost in step with him. The King’s voice almost sounds bored as he responds. “That is none of your concern, Taylor.” “You punished one of your own men for her. I think you owe us an explanation.” Taylor snaps, stopping the King in his steps. “Owe?” He slowly turns, and I can see the King’s face clearly through a sliver of light. The girls downstairs didn’t do him any justice. He was breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame, his white button-up exposed the tattoo in swirling patterns on his chest and up part of his neck. His curly black hair was gelled back into a style of sorts, but two unruly curls escaped and framed his face. His eyes swirled like a storm, erupting and flashing between the calming gray and black. He looked almost like a tortured angel. He almost looks like Sirius. “You think I owe you?” The King snarls at Taylor, who instantly turns pale. “N-no, I just mean-” “You just mean I should allow subordinates to run rampant to assault and pillage like average thugs.” “Sir it just seemed like you cared about the girl too much.” “What I choose to care and not care about is none of your freaking business, but Dan was punished for lying to me,” The King leans in closer, “ I was feeling gracious, so he was given a slap on the wrist, next time I will cut out his tongue. But my kindness has expired.” “King.” Desperation drips in the boy’s tone, but the King dismisses him with the flick of his wrist, and a man drags Taylor away. “Step foot in my territory again, and you will be destroyed on sight.” The King continues walking forward as if he did not send someone to their death, but the gasp that escapes my lips makes him pause. “Dan?” The handsy man behind me shifts, a grunt escaping his throat. Then a shot rang out, something sliced through the air, and Dan shrieked, falling to his knees. “I show you kindness, and this is how you repay me?” The King’s voice is deathly low as he approaches, and I dare not move. I dare not breathe. “The call girl freaking deserves it.” A low rumble of laughter escapes the King, lowering himself over a bleeding Dan. He pushes the barrel of the gun into the wound in his shoulder. “You are freaking mad, murdering innocents just because they won’t sleep with you?” The King pistol whips Dan into the floor, and a strangled sound fills the room. Dan spits onto the floor. “This is the thanks I get for letting you keep your life?” “My King, she seduced me-” The King grips him by the collar dragging him close. “You think it is wise to lie again?” Dan audibly swallows, a whimper escaping his lips. The King snaps his finger, and a buff, bald man with the word mercy over his knuckles comes up behind him. “Yes, boss?” “I want his tongue and right hand.” With a curt nod, the man grips Dan by his injured shoulder and drags him deeper into the VIP area. “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” The King looks in the direction of a weeping, sounding annoyed. I slowly at the King from the corner of my eye, my mouth completely dry and my hands feverishly shaking. The scars on the King’s face glitter in the low lighting making my stomach twist, so I focus on the silver, twisted ring on his ring finger. It looks almost like tree branches gripping his skin. “I-I left something here.” “What?” His empty grey eyes lock on me. “An earring.” A short grunt leaves his lips, “You risked your life for an earring?” “It’s sentimental.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes closer to the ring, recognizing the red ruby in the center of a rose, and I almost choke, drilling my eyes into his, “Sirius?!” Chapter 5 An Unexpected Reunion “Sirius?!” My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe, staring into his eyes, I know. I know it’s him. He turns to me a blank look on his face. The silence in the room creeps over me, and I slowly look around the room. Every mafia member is staring at me, with tension in their necks, awaiting the command of their king. I almost believe I’ve misspoken as I watch the King’s jaw click. “Elise.” “Oh my god!” I take a step back, looking him over. He looks just like he did in high school, but buffed up and toned, no longer lean and boyish. He’s a full man now. “When I told you to stay away from here, I meant it. Earring or not.” “These were…you cannot tell me what to do, Sirius.” He tilts his head to the side, looking me over. “You gave these to me…before you…” “I know, earring or not. Do not come back up here. Stay away from the mafia.” His voice is ice-cold and distant. He starts to walk away from me, and I almost leap out of my skin following him. “Do not speak to me like that, not after what you did. You abandoned me, and now you dismiss me.” “We both know what really happened back then, don’t act like you don’t know. Do not make me into some villain.” “No, but you are heartless. You leave without a word. You disappear, then you come back and ignore me as if we were nothing. As if you didn’t even—” My words get caught in my chest as if I am about to cry, but Sirius turns sharply towards me, heat rising in his eyes. “Once. I had a heart once, but now when I tell you to do something, you listen, Elise, and that’s final.” Sirius speaks lowly in my face, his voice feathers over me. “Now leave.” My eyes cannot help but flicker at his lips, but I immediately take a step back when he licks them. “No. Just because you say jump, d-does not mean I have to follow, Sirius.” I can hear the click of a gun, and Sirius doesn’t even move as he watches my actions. I raise my hands up and grit my teeth, “I guess you won’t even let me say thank you before murdering me, huh? ” “Lower your weapons, no one is allowed to point a gun at her ever.” I put my hands down slowly, my anger and grief swirling into panic as he turns to leave again. “If I mean so little to you, why are you still wearing your ring?” The branching ring with a single ruby was part of a promise ring set Sirius and I had brought when we were silly and in love. My ring is in my jewelry bag, hidden so Alston won’t find it and ask questions. “For sentimental reasons. I engraved it with something to remind me of the past.” He looks down at the ring longingly before snapping his eyes to my hands. “Where is your ring?” “I lost it years ago.” I don’t know why I lie or what I try to hide, but I know I can’t let him think anything can happen between us. He just nods sharply, not letting any emotions pass over his face. A throat clears in the background, and the tension in the room deflates slightly at the fakely bubbly voice of Mr. Thompson. He stands between Sirius and me a sharp look in his eyes. “Is everything okay here?” “Just a conversation,” Sirius responds evenly, his eyes not leaving mine. Mr.Thompson gives an empty chuckle, “Ah yes, I had to have a conversation with this employee multiple times. She is lazy. She constantly elicits complaints for her promiscuity and irresponsible nature.” He turns to me, hard eyes in his eyes, raising his voice, “Elise, I told you one more time.” “Mr.Thompson, this isn’t what it looks.” I begin, but he puts a hand in my face silencing me. “No, no, the time has come Elise you have embarrassed yourself in front of the King. You have constantly caused problems. You are the most terrible waitress I have ever had the displeasure of managing--” Sirius clocks his gun, placing the barrel against the back of Mr.Thompson’s head and he freezes. “No, no, continue your rant with a gun to your head.” “Sir, I was just firing insubordinate who was causing you trouble.” Mr.Thompson raises his hands up shakily. “Do you think of me as a damsel in need of saving, Thompson?” “Absolutely not sir.” “So why would I need you to come to my rescue?” “Sir, she has been a terrible employee, and I think--” “I do not care what you think. One more insult at her, and I am blowing your freaking brain across this room, understand?” Mr.Thompson nods slowly. “Good.” Sirius puts his gun away, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this what you do all day? Threaten people’s lives?” “No normally I am not protecting my ex-girlfriend.” Sirius tucks the gun in his waistband, shrugging at Elise. “Where even is he?” “What are you talking about, Sirius?” He walks closer to me a teasing smile on his lips. “Where is your boyfriend? Why is he not here to step in during every crisis, like I am?” Sirius stands a breath away from me, and from his tone, I can tell he is taunting me, that he wants a rise out of me. For a second, I want to smile at his boyish ways. His jealousy-fueled mockery reminds me of my Sirius. “My relationship with Alston has nothing to do with you!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dip to my chest, but his eyes narrow, looking at me just as quickly. “I thought you were dating my brother Lester?” “No, he is like a brother to me.” He chuckles. “It would destroy him to hear you say that.” “Why would you think I was with Lester?” “I never would have guessed Alston because he is such a good guy. Taking down major corporations, defending the little guy. I thought you liked your guys with a little edge to them.” Sirius shrugs, a carefree look in his eyes. “You used to be a good guy.” Sirius flashes his million-dollar smile that makes my knees weaken. “I was never a good guy, you just always saw the good in me.” Sirius’s voice is barely above a whisper, causing shivers down my spine. Alston was good. After Sirius went missing, Alston pursued me and when Lester was severely injured, Alston was the one who gathered most of the money for the medical expenses. His good deeds made me fall for him. He was always saving the day, and knowing that he was my personal superhero made me feel secure, supported, and loved. Most importantly, I never felt like he would abandon me. “I agreed to be his girlfriend because he makes me feel safe, Sirius, physically and emotionally.” Sirius’s eyes widen and the careless smile on his face fizzles out. I want to reach up and cup his face. I want to tell him that despite moving on he was my first, I have never been crazy, or foolish in love with anyone else. It’s only been him. “Thompson, leave.” Sirius doesn’t break eye contact with me as Mr.Thompson scurries to leave, but before he can make his grand escape, “I want your office cleared out by the morning.” “What?” Mr.Thompson slows, looking over his shoulder, shock across his face. “Elise will be the new owner, effective in the morning.” Simultaneously Mr.Thompson and I both look at Sirius as if he has lost his mind, screaming, “What? Why?” “Because Alston is not the only person who can make you feel safe, Elise.”	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449044422_1575931366327027_957907443075673983_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MbptDtJacUUQ7kNvgEK4b4r&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAVFux962JPNejdmTEiaapQFahNvLcI3bIXP9I9HcWl3A&oe=6707C0AD	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,135	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102139}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 A Messy Life and the Mafia Six months ago, I was a promising med student on the verge of all my dreams coming true, but now I’m just a waitress trying to start over in a new city. I know this restaurant I work at has ties to the infamous Onyx Mafia, but I didn’t have much choice—it's the best-paying job I could find. Besides, the scariest thing about working here isn’t the Mafia, it is the man at table eight flagging me down, obviously fuming. “What looks wrong here?” He snaps and I scan table eight's orders. Foie gras for the blonde in red, Peking duck for the pouty daughter—check. But the impatient bald man tapping his fingers? He got the risotto, not the ribeye currently in front of him. A cold sweat sweeps down my spine as I look between the squinting gaze of the man and the squiggles that are my handwriting. I still write like a surgeon, yet another reminder of my failed dreams. "Wait, I'm sorry... you ordered--" My hands tremble, and my heart sinks as I realize the kitchen couldn’t decipher my handwriting and just took a guess. Lucky me, their guess was wrong. "I-I think the kitchen--" Before I can finish my sentence, Jessica descends upon us like a vulture, risotto in hand. "Apologies for the inconvenience," she chimes in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Elise here is still learning the ropes." "I can tell," the man responds curtly, his attention entirely on Jessica, silently dismissing me. There goes my tip. "Sir, I noticed you’re drinking the 1984 Chateau. Let me send another round on the house for your troubles," Jessica offers breathlessly, her bosom on display as she leans in, her eyes batting just like they did back in high school. The man grunts in agreement as her fingers dig into my arm like talons. She whispers through clenched teeth, "Kitchen. Now." I bow my head obediently as I follow her into the chaos of the kitchen. When I moved here, I promised things were going to be different. I would be no one’s stepping stool, and yet here I am again, at the mercy of another girl who appears oblivious to the fact that we graduated high school. “Elise struck again, boys!” Tony, the sous chef, calls out, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. “What was it this time? Dropped another soup? Tripped and broke all the glasses?” In my defense, the soup incident happened because a man molested me, and Jessica tripped me while I was carrying glasses for an 18-person table. “Oh, tonight she gave one of our regulars the wrong meal.” “It’s the kitchen’s fault. I ordered a risotto, not a ribeye."I retort, pushing my glasses up as I glare at Jessica. “And who could tell with that chicken scratch handwriting?” Tony snorts. “Remember she wanted to be a surgeon,” Jessica sneers. “Doctors notoriously have terrible handwriting, but not waitresses.” The other kitchen staff snicker at her remark. They all think I went to med school and couldn’t cut it. But they don't know the truth, and it would be worse if they did. I take a deep breath, trying to push down my anger. "You were supposed to be a surgeon, marry Sirius, live your perfect little life," she snaps back, the mention of his name, Sirius, still a punch to the gut after all these years. I bite my lip to stifle the retort that threatens to spill from my lips and look down at my tennis shoes, a lump forming in my throat. I can still remember the feeling of the day he disappeared. I told everyone he loved me, that he would be back, and that he would never just leave me, but they were all right. He was gone. He didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t brave enough to say it to my face before disappearing. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again. It’d be a combination of running into his arms, waiting to see every bit of his life I missed, and kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. "But then you ended up at the bottom, where you’re meant to be." I hold my breath. I can’t show Jessica she’s getting to me. "Good thing Sirius came to his senses like we all knew he would," Jessica retorts. "Once he was done slumming it, he ran away from you as fast as possible. I mean, you practically ran him out of town." The lump in my throat swells as memories of his abandonment flood back, the pain still fresh. "You know what--" "Those better are words of gratitude, Elise, because I am two seconds away from firing you," Jessica interrupts, her smirk widening as she relishes in my discomfort. I swallow back my retort, facing Mr. Thompson, the restaurant manager. Mr. Thompson's stern gaze pierces through me as he approaches. "Elise, why do I have Mr. Kelsey asking for a free bottle of wine for his troubles?" "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." "You have been promising to do better for weeks, Elise. That is not enough anymore," he snaps. "I'll work harder, I swear," I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please." Mr. Thompson holds up a hand to silence me. "You've got one more chance, Elise, but you’re out of here if I hear one more complaint. Do you understand?" I nod frantically."Yes, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down. I promise." He scoffs, clearly unconvinced. "For the rest of your shift, you are exclusive to the VIPs upstairs," he continues, his tone stern. "They’re too drunk to notice your insolence." "Yes, sir," I whisper. "And you better be on your best behavior because the Mafia king is here," Mr. Thompson warns. "And if I don’t have your head, he will." I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, as I nod, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Mr. Thompson storms off into his office, leaving Jessica behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Looks like you're on thin ice, Elise," Jessica says, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Better watch your step." "Why? You’re going to trip me?" "I would never, but since you are exclusive to VIPs," Jessica hands me a tray of appetizers too heavy for me to hold without almost falling over. "Take this to table 19... the King’s subjects are there." I take a deep breath as I walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. But as I look up at the men sitting upstairs, a wave of dread washes over me, making me want to run in the opposite direction. They're overly comfortable, as if they own the place as if they own the world. And in a way, they do. The rumors swirling around the restaurant's ownership, whispers of connections to the mafia, suddenly feel all too real. Each step closer to the VIP room feels heavier, as if I am dragging myself closer. As I approach, the men’s eyes leering over me like predators sizing up their prey. The minute I set down the appetizers, a hand grips the back of my leg, sending a shiver down my spine. "Hey there, sweetheart," the man slurs, his breath reeking of booze as he pulls me into his lap. "Why don’t you clock out and hang with the big dogs?" I squirm, feeling his hand wander where it shouldn't."No. Stop it. I have to get back to work," I protest, trying to push him away. But he only laughs, his grip tightening as his friends jeer and egg him on. I squirm, feeling something hard poking me, I begin to panic. He hisses in excitement in my ear. “Yeah, baby, keep doing that.” I try to pull away, causing my glasses to go flying. Great, now I’m blind too. I struggle with my body, tears stinging as I attempt to slide out of his lap, “I need my glasses.” “You do not need glasses for what we are going to do.” He pinches my chin, leaning in as if he is going to kiss me, but the sound of a growling, cleared throat causes him to pause. Panic rises in my throat as I realize that none of these guys will help me and that going against the Mafia for some random waitress is a losing battle. "In my restaurant, we do not tolerate harassment of women," the voice declares, cutting through the VIP, firm and unwavering. The handsy man practically throws me onto the floor as he looks up at the gentleman standing in front of him. I turn to see, in my blurry haze, the silhouette of a man looming protectively over me, his presence exuding authority and strength. The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?” Chapter 2 Mafia King Knows Me？ “What, no!” I stand up, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man. “No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. “She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me. Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her bosoms and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear. “Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a call girl?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her alluring appeal. The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off. “I admire how they always seem to get their way.” Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but she is fully prepared to go much further than that. But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.” The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?” Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake bosoms to be a good call girl, but I see your point.” “It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense. “Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.” “No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly. “You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my hormonal drive? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.” “King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me. “You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.” “King, I’m sorry I-” “You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive. I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.” “They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-” “I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind. “Why are you working here?” I struggle back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are. In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.” The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.” “You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning. “I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command. “As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod. I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly. “Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?” “A great boyfriend. If that matters?” The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.” “What shot would I have after this if you ban her?” “None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.” His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name. Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him? Chapter 3 Rumors and Crisis I don’t breathe until the kitchen doors slam behind me. How does the Mafia King know my name, surely he knows all his employees' names. He may just be a great boss. Right, that’s it. The Mafia King is a great boss who would’ve thought? My breathing slows and I realize I’m so caught up in my thoughts I don’t feel the entire kitchen looking at me until Toni clears his throat. “Elise?” I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I don’t respond. Instead, Dawn, the pastry chef, approaches me with flour-covered hands. “Hey girly, are you okay? Did the King…hurt you?” I shake my hand no, a strangled breath releases from my lips, and Dawn sighs, squeezing my cheeks. “Good because the King has no right hurting a girl as innocent as you.” “Like that would’ve been his first time!” Kelsey, the saucier, laughs in the corner of the kitchen. “Kels, you’re not helping,” Dawn snaps, but Toni approaches us wickedly. “I heard his favorite way to murder is the bloody eagle.” “Toni!” I look at Dawn’s horrified face as she runs to cover my ears. “What's the bloody eagle?” I whisper. The dread I had swimming in my gut since the King first laid eyes on me bubbles to the surface. I feel like I could vomit. “All I’m going to say is ribs pulled through the back. If you want more details, do your research online.” I would not, but Kelsey laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. The King treats his subjects like their commodities, completely replaceable. He’s the youngest King ever, and you don’t get to be King in your twenties without a trail of blood behind you.” Kelsey points her ladle at us in warning, “So watch ya’ step, or the King will gut ya’ like a fish!” “Or hang your head above his fireplace, I heard the king loves a trophy, and a pretty head like yours would be perfect.” Toni swats at my hair and Dawn pushes him back to his station. “What is all this racket?! Kelsey you’re messing around and broke the sauce!” The Head Chef, Yolanda enters the kitchen with a stern look in her eyes, “And you! Why aren’t you running my plates?” “I-I…” I rub my hands back and forth, feeling the tension of being in trouble for the third time tonight. “She just had an interaction with the King. Leave her alone.” Dawn snaps. Dawn and Yolanda are childhood best friends, and Dawn is the only one who can talk to Yolanda that way and still have her job. Yolanda’s face pales as she walks closer to me, “You interacted with the King and made it out alive? Count your lucky stars.” Yolanda approaches me cautiously and I don’t realize all the stress is forcing tears to burn in my eyes. “That man is cold-blooded like a snake.” Despite the bile I balance in the back of my throat, I look Yolanda in the eye and shake my head, “No, he protected me. He knew my name.” “He knew your name because you have a name tag on your shirt.” Yolanda flicks my name tag and I look down at it, a pang of disappointment shivering through me. “Protect you?” Dawn questions, “You didn’t say anything about the King protecting you.” “That may be worse. A dangerous man like him may like you, want you.” Yolanda whispers. My eyes widened. My skin flushes as Yolanda and Dawn share a look with each other. The King knew my name. The King wants me. I remember the way he said boyfriend as if it was the most disgusting word on his tongue. But just as I spiral, Dawn and Yolanda break into laughter. “Girl, bless your heart! A man that fine wants you. You better be over the moon happy.” Dawn lightly hits her rag on my right arm, and I flinch, holding my breath. “I mean, those gray eyes are just delicious!” Kelsey chimes in. “Nope, it has to be black curly hair.” Those eyes, that hair remind me of Sirius. His eyes could be a storm with everyone else and clear with me. How a single curl always danced in the middle of his forehead, and I’d spend all day pushing it back. The days when he was my Sirius. The laughter snaps me out of my daze. “I bet he wakes up with his hair like that, just messy and perfect!” “Yolanda, I don’t know if you want to be him or sleep with him?” “Does it matter?” The entire kitchen erupts into laughter. “I would take him any way I could get him. He is so fine!” “So how did he look up close, Elise? A walking daydream, huh?” Kelsey leans over her pot, wiggling her eyebrows. I hide my head slightly, blush to creep up the apple of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I show the kitchen my glasses. “I broke my glasses. All I could see was tall, charming, and hot.” The entire kitchen boos. “You get close to the Mafia King, and your glasses break!” Dawn pouts, pushing me away, and I giggle for the first time in this entire situation. “Sorry, I can’t tell you how hot he is. You’re going to have to figure that out yourselves!” “Hey! Why is no one helping me out on the floor?” An upset waiter enters the kitchen looking around at us. “I’ll be right there, just let me get my contacts.” I head towards the break room and rummage inside my purse, revealing my contact lenses. I begin to replace my contacts, looking into the crappy workplace mirror, but once my vision is clear, all I can see is my missing earring. One of my silver earrings from Sirius, he got me for our last anniversary together. He’s already missing. I can lose the last thing he’s ever given me. I look over at the floor near my locker, but I know where it is. It’s in the VIP area. I turn on my heel towards the VIP area. The Mafia King's warning echoed in my mind, I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. It’s filled with the type of dangerous people, normal people shouldn’t be around.” I push his warning into the back of my mind. With a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs. I’ll be quick! In and out before anyone notices. As I enter the VIP area, I immediately fall to my knees, crawling around for the earring and hiding from the boisterous men laughing around the bar. I freeze when the King’s voice booms through the area, “You’re lucky I don’t collect your freaking head!” The music in the VIP clicks off. “Boss, it was just a girl!” The man snaps back and the entire area seems to hold their breath as the twinkle of something catches my eye. “A girl under my protection. The same way you are under my protection.” The King's voice is even and controlled again, “And don’t I always protect mine?” I contort my body, grabbing the dangled earring from underneath the couch. “Let me provide you with this small mercy. I promise you the alternative is lethal, and it would be a shame to murder you when you’re still useful to me.” The club music clicks back on as if nothing happened. I sit up on the floor, fixing the earring in my ear. When the footsteps descend towards me. I am not quick enough when I hear the humorless laughter of the handsy man, “You are the freaking pain of my existence. I’m on grunt duty because of you.” I look up, my eyes darting between him and the stairs. If I jump up and run. I should make it. I will make it. I propel myself off the floor, running towards the stairs, but the handsy man is quicker. He pulls me back by my hair, caging me in. My breath hitches as cold metal digs into my side. His breath gushes over my face in puffs thick with the scent of tobacco and gin. “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” Chapter 4 The Mafia King is My Ex? “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” His fingernails dig into my wrist, but I bite back any response watching his nostrils flare. “You got me suspended from duties because you rather spread your legs for the King than me.” He pulls me against him, snarling at my confident facade. I look down at the mark forming on my wrist, keeping my voice as even as possible, I say, “I do not want the King. I do not know the King.” He pushes me against the brick wall, and with my better judgment, I whimper, gripping the back of my head, “You dare lie to me? After all you have done, you freaking lie to me?” Spit sprays over my face, his eyes bulge out of his head as he holds me against the wall. The concrete dug into my skin. “Please,” I whisper. “Please?! Please! You purposefully lead me to the freaking slaughter, shaking your tight body for the king, begging him to punish me for your fault.” His wet breath drips down my face, and I look away towards the hallway leading to the King. I didn’t know the King. He did not need to come to my rescue, yet he did. Maybe the King liked me the way Dawn said, but what did it matter? I did not want him. “I am not sorry you were punished. I said no.” “Oh, so this is the little game we’re going to play? You say no, and mean yes.” A greedy, devious smile spread across the man's lips as if the idea of conquering me in such a manner excited him. “You little freaking tease.” His palm digs into my waist, and my eyes water over, straining to look down the hallway to the King. “No.” “You like causing trouble, huh? You like luring men in to watch them. ” I hear the click of his belt, a dooming sound. “You need to be taught a lesson, and I love punishing little girls with fresh mouths.” A voice and the click of a door opening cut the tension. “Boss, who even was she?” He pulls me into a corner. He pulls me in front of him and presses himself on me. His gun is tucked under my chin, and his arm is wrapped around my waist as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t make a freaking sound.” I watch the King walk down the hallway, most of his subjects a step or two behind him. The young member with dirty brown hair and colorful tattoos walks almost in step with him. The King’s voice almost sounds bored as he responds. “That is none of your concern, Taylor.” “You punished one of your own men for her. I think you owe us an explanation.” Taylor snaps, stopping the King in his steps. “Owe?” He slowly turns, and I can see the King’s face clearly through a sliver of light. The girls downstairs didn’t do him any justice. He was breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame, his white button-up exposed the tattoo in swirling patterns on his chest and up part of his neck. His curly black hair was gelled back into a style of sorts, but two unruly curls escaped and framed his face. His eyes swirled like a storm, erupting and flashing between the calming gray and black. He looked almost like a tortured angel. He almost looks like Sirius. “You think I owe you?” The King snarls at Taylor, who instantly turns pale. “N-no, I just mean-” “You just mean I should allow subordinates to run rampant to assault and pillage like average thugs.” “Sir it just seemed like you cared about the girl too much.” “What I choose to care and not care about is none of your freaking business, but Dan was punished for lying to me,” The King leans in closer, “ I was feeling gracious, so he was given a slap on the wrist, next time I will cut out his tongue. But my kindness has expired.” “King.” Desperation drips in the boy’s tone, but the King dismisses him with the flick of his wrist, and a man drags Taylor away. “Step foot in my territory again, and you will be destroyed on sight.” The King continues walking forward as if he did not send someone to their death, but the gasp that escapes my lips makes him pause. “Dan?” The handsy man behind me shifts, a grunt escaping his throat. Then a shot rang out, something sliced through the air, and Dan shrieked, falling to his knees. “I show you kindness, and this is how you repay me?” The King’s voice is deathly low as he approaches, and I dare not move. I dare not breathe. “The call girl freaking deserves it.” A low rumble of laughter escapes the King, lowering himself over a bleeding Dan. He pushes the barrel of the gun into the wound in his shoulder. “You are freaking mad, murdering innocents just because they won’t sleep with you?” The King pistol whips Dan into the floor, and a strangled sound fills the room. Dan spits onto the floor. “This is the thanks I get for letting you keep your life?” “My King, she seduced me-” The King grips him by the collar dragging him close. “You think it is wise to lie again?” Dan audibly swallows, a whimper escaping his lips. The King snaps his finger, and a buff, bald man with the word mercy over his knuckles comes up behind him. “Yes, boss?” “I want his tongue and right hand.” With a curt nod, the man grips Dan by his injured shoulder and drags him deeper into the VIP area. “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” The King looks in the direction of a weeping, sounding annoyed. I slowly at the King from the corner of my eye, my mouth completely dry and my hands feverishly shaking. The scars on the King’s face glitter in the low lighting making my stomach twist, so I focus on the silver, twisted ring on his ring finger. It looks almost like tree branches gripping his skin. “I-I left something here.” “What?” His empty grey eyes lock on me. “An earring.” A short grunt leaves his lips, “You risked your life for an earring?” “It’s sentimental.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes closer to the ring, recognizing the red ruby in the center of a rose, and I almost choke, drilling my eyes into his, “Sirius?!” Chapter 5 An Unexpected Reunion “Sirius?!” My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe, staring into his eyes, I know. I know it’s him. He turns to me a blank look on his face. The silence in the room creeps over me, and I slowly look around the room. Every mafia member is staring at me, with tension in their necks, awaiting the command of their king. I almost believe I’ve misspoken as I watch the King’s jaw click. “Elise.” “Oh my god!” I take a step back, looking him over. He looks just like he did in high school, but buffed up and toned, no longer lean and boyish. He’s a full man now. “When I told you to stay away from here, I meant it. Earring or not.” “These were…you cannot tell me what to do, Sirius.” He tilts his head to the side, looking me over. “You gave these to me…before you…” “I know, earring or not. Do not come back up here. Stay away from the mafia.” His voice is ice-cold and distant. He starts to walk away from me, and I almost leap out of my skin following him. “Do not speak to me like that, not after what you did. You abandoned me, and now you dismiss me.” “We both know what really happened back then, don’t act like you don’t know. Do not make me into some villain.” “No, but you are heartless. You leave without a word. You disappear, then you come back and ignore me as if we were nothing. As if you didn’t even—” My words get caught in my chest as if I am about to cry, but Sirius turns sharply towards me, heat rising in his eyes. “Once. I had a heart once, but now when I tell you to do something, you listen, Elise, and that’s final.” Sirius speaks lowly in my face, his voice feathers over me. “Now leave.” My eyes cannot help but flicker at his lips, but I immediately take a step back when he licks them. “No. Just because you say jump, d-does not mean I have to follow, Sirius.” I can hear the click of a gun, and Sirius doesn’t even move as he watches my actions. I raise my hands up and grit my teeth, “I guess you won’t even let me say thank you before murdering me, huh? ” “Lower your weapons, no one is allowed to point a gun at her ever.” I put my hands down slowly, my anger and grief swirling into panic as he turns to leave again. “If I mean so little to you, why are you still wearing your ring?” The branching ring with a single ruby was part of a promise ring set Sirius and I had brought when we were silly and in love. My ring is in my jewelry bag, hidden so Alston won’t find it and ask questions. “For sentimental reasons. I engraved it with something to remind me of the past.” He looks down at the ring longingly before snapping his eyes to my hands. “Where is your ring?” “I lost it years ago.” I don’t know why I lie or what I try to hide, but I know I can’t let him think anything can happen between us. He just nods sharply, not letting any emotions pass over his face. A throat clears in the background, and the tension in the room deflates slightly at the fakely bubbly voice of Mr. Thompson. He stands between Sirius and me a sharp look in his eyes. “Is everything okay here?” “Just a conversation,” Sirius responds evenly, his eyes not leaving mine. Mr.Thompson gives an empty chuckle, “Ah yes, I had to have a conversation with this employee multiple times. She is lazy. She constantly elicits complaints for her promiscuity and irresponsible nature.” He turns to me, hard eyes in his eyes, raising his voice, “Elise, I told you one more time.” “Mr.Thompson, this isn’t what it looks.” I begin, but he puts a hand in my face silencing me. “No, no, the time has come Elise you have embarrassed yourself in front of the King. You have constantly caused problems. You are the most terrible waitress I have ever had the displeasure of managing--” Sirius clocks his gun, placing the barrel against the back of Mr.Thompson’s head and he freezes. “No, no, continue your rant with a gun to your head.” “Sir, I was just firing insubordinate who was causing you trouble.” Mr.Thompson raises his hands up shakily. “Do you think of me as a damsel in need of saving, Thompson?” “Absolutely not sir.” “So why would I need you to come to my rescue?” “Sir, she has been a terrible employee, and I think--” “I do not care what you think. One more insult at her, and I am blowing your freaking brain across this room, understand?” Mr.Thompson nods slowly. “Good.” Sirius puts his gun away, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this what you do all day? Threaten people’s lives?” “No normally I am not protecting my ex-girlfriend.” Sirius tucks the gun in his waistband, shrugging at Elise. “Where even is he?” “What are you talking about, Sirius?” He walks closer to me a teasing smile on his lips. “Where is your boyfriend? Why is he not here to step in during every crisis, like I am?” Sirius stands a breath away from me, and from his tone, I can tell he is taunting me, that he wants a rise out of me. For a second, I want to smile at his boyish ways. His jealousy-fueled mockery reminds me of my Sirius. “My relationship with Alston has nothing to do with you!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dip to my chest, but his eyes narrow, looking at me just as quickly. “I thought you were dating my brother Lester?” “No, he is like a brother to me.” He chuckles. “It would destroy him to hear you say that.” “Why would you think I was with Lester?” “I never would have guessed Alston because he is such a good guy. Taking down major corporations, defending the little guy. I thought you liked your guys with a little edge to them.” Sirius shrugs, a carefree look in his eyes. “You used to be a good guy.” Sirius flashes his million-dollar smile that makes my knees weaken. “I was never a good guy, you just always saw the good in me.” Sirius’s voice is barely above a whisper, causing shivers down my spine. Alston was good. After Sirius went missing, Alston pursued me and when Lester was severely injured, Alston was the one who gathered most of the money for the medical expenses. His good deeds made me fall for him. He was always saving the day, and knowing that he was my personal superhero made me feel secure, supported, and loved. Most importantly, I never felt like he would abandon me. “I agreed to be his girlfriend because he makes me feel safe, Sirius, physically and emotionally.” Sirius’s eyes widen and the careless smile on his face fizzles out. I want to reach up and cup his face. I want to tell him that despite moving on he was my first, I have never been crazy, or foolish in love with anyone else. It’s only been him. “Thompson, leave.” Sirius doesn’t break eye contact with me as Mr.Thompson scurries to leave, but before he can make his grand escape, “I want your office cleared out by the morning.” “What?” Mr.Thompson slows, looking over his shoulder, shock across his face. “Elise will be the new owner, effective in the morning.” Simultaneously Mr.Thompson and I both look at Sirius as if he has lost his mind, screaming, “What? Why?” “Because Alston is not the only person who can make you feel safe, Elise.”	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449044422_1575931366327027_957907443075673983_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MbptDtJacUUQ7kNvgEK4b4r&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAVFux962JPNejdmTEiaapQFahNvLcI3bIXP9I9HcWl3A&oe=6707C0AD	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,134	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102139}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 A Messy Life and the Mafia Six months ago, I was a promising med student on the verge of all my dreams coming true, but now I’m just a waitress trying to start over in a new city. I know this restaurant I work at has ties to the infamous Onyx Mafia, but I didn’t have much choice—it's the best-paying job I could find. Besides, the scariest thing about working here isn’t the Mafia, it is the man at table eight flagging me down, obviously fuming. “What looks wrong here?” He snaps and I scan table eight's orders. Foie gras for the blonde in red, Peking duck for the pouty daughter—check. But the impatient bald man tapping his fingers? He got the risotto, not the ribeye currently in front of him. A cold sweat sweeps down my spine as I look between the squinting gaze of the man and the squiggles that are my handwriting. I still write like a surgeon, yet another reminder of my failed dreams. "Wait, I'm sorry... you ordered--" My hands tremble, and my heart sinks as I realize the kitchen couldn’t decipher my handwriting and just took a guess. Lucky me, their guess was wrong. "I-I think the kitchen--" Before I can finish my sentence, Jessica descends upon us like a vulture, risotto in hand. "Apologies for the inconvenience," she chimes in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Elise here is still learning the ropes." "I can tell," the man responds curtly, his attention entirely on Jessica, silently dismissing me. There goes my tip. "Sir, I noticed you’re drinking the 1984 Chateau. Let me send another round on the house for your troubles," Jessica offers breathlessly, her bosom on display as she leans in, her eyes batting just like they did back in high school. The man grunts in agreement as her fingers dig into my arm like talons. She whispers through clenched teeth, "Kitchen. Now." I bow my head obediently as I follow her into the chaos of the kitchen. When I moved here, I promised things were going to be different. I would be no one’s stepping stool, and yet here I am again, at the mercy of another girl who appears oblivious to the fact that we graduated high school. “Elise struck again, boys!” Tony, the sous chef, calls out, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. “What was it this time? Dropped another soup? Tripped and broke all the glasses?” In my defense, the soup incident happened because a man molested me, and Jessica tripped me while I was carrying glasses for an 18-person table. “Oh, tonight she gave one of our regulars the wrong meal.” “It’s the kitchen’s fault. I ordered a risotto, not a ribeye."I retort, pushing my glasses up as I glare at Jessica. “And who could tell with that chicken scratch handwriting?” Tony snorts. “Remember she wanted to be a surgeon,” Jessica sneers. “Doctors notoriously have terrible handwriting, but not waitresses.” The other kitchen staff snicker at her remark. They all think I went to med school and couldn’t cut it. But they don't know the truth, and it would be worse if they did. I take a deep breath, trying to push down my anger. "You were supposed to be a surgeon, marry Sirius, live your perfect little life," she snaps back, the mention of his name, Sirius, still a punch to the gut after all these years. I bite my lip to stifle the retort that threatens to spill from my lips and look down at my tennis shoes, a lump forming in my throat. I can still remember the feeling of the day he disappeared. I told everyone he loved me, that he would be back, and that he would never just leave me, but they were all right. He was gone. He didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t brave enough to say it to my face before disappearing. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again. It’d be a combination of running into his arms, waiting to see every bit of his life I missed, and kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. "But then you ended up at the bottom, where you’re meant to be." I hold my breath. I can’t show Jessica she’s getting to me. "Good thing Sirius came to his senses like we all knew he would," Jessica retorts. "Once he was done slumming it, he ran away from you as fast as possible. I mean, you practically ran him out of town." The lump in my throat swells as memories of his abandonment flood back, the pain still fresh. "You know what--" "Those better are words of gratitude, Elise, because I am two seconds away from firing you," Jessica interrupts, her smirk widening as she relishes in my discomfort. I swallow back my retort, facing Mr. Thompson, the restaurant manager. Mr. Thompson's stern gaze pierces through me as he approaches. "Elise, why do I have Mr. Kelsey asking for a free bottle of wine for his troubles?" "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." "You have been promising to do better for weeks, Elise. That is not enough anymore," he snaps. "I'll work harder, I swear," I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please." Mr. Thompson holds up a hand to silence me. "You've got one more chance, Elise, but you’re out of here if I hear one more complaint. Do you understand?" I nod frantically."Yes, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down. I promise." He scoffs, clearly unconvinced. "For the rest of your shift, you are exclusive to the VIPs upstairs," he continues, his tone stern. "They’re too drunk to notice your insolence." "Yes, sir," I whisper. "And you better be on your best behavior because the Mafia king is here," Mr. Thompson warns. "And if I don’t have your head, he will." I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, as I nod, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Mr. Thompson storms off into his office, leaving Jessica behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Looks like you're on thin ice, Elise," Jessica says, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Better watch your step." "Why? You’re going to trip me?" "I would never, but since you are exclusive to VIPs," Jessica hands me a tray of appetizers too heavy for me to hold without almost falling over. "Take this to table 19... the King’s subjects are there." I take a deep breath as I walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. But as I look up at the men sitting upstairs, a wave of dread washes over me, making me want to run in the opposite direction. They're overly comfortable, as if they own the place as if they own the world. And in a way, they do. The rumors swirling around the restaurant's ownership, whispers of connections to the mafia, suddenly feel all too real. Each step closer to the VIP room feels heavier, as if I am dragging myself closer. As I approach, the men’s eyes leering over me like predators sizing up their prey. The minute I set down the appetizers, a hand grips the back of my leg, sending a shiver down my spine. "Hey there, sweetheart," the man slurs, his breath reeking of booze as he pulls me into his lap. "Why don’t you clock out and hang with the big dogs?" I squirm, feeling his hand wander where it shouldn't."No. Stop it. I have to get back to work," I protest, trying to push him away. But he only laughs, his grip tightening as his friends jeer and egg him on. I squirm, feeling something hard poking me, I begin to panic. He hisses in excitement in my ear. “Yeah, baby, keep doing that.” I try to pull away, causing my glasses to go flying. Great, now I’m blind too. I struggle with my body, tears stinging as I attempt to slide out of his lap, “I need my glasses.” “You do not need glasses for what we are going to do.” He pinches my chin, leaning in as if he is going to kiss me, but the sound of a growling, cleared throat causes him to pause. Panic rises in my throat as I realize that none of these guys will help me and that going against the Mafia for some random waitress is a losing battle. "In my restaurant, we do not tolerate harassment of women," the voice declares, cutting through the VIP, firm and unwavering. The handsy man practically throws me onto the floor as he looks up at the gentleman standing in front of him. I turn to see, in my blurry haze, the silhouette of a man looming protectively over me, his presence exuding authority and strength. The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?” Chapter 2 Mafia King Knows Me？ “What, no!” I stand up, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man. “No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. “She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me. Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her bosoms and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear. “Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a call girl?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her alluring appeal. The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off. “I admire how they always seem to get their way.” Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but she is fully prepared to go much further than that. But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.” The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?” Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake bosoms to be a good call girl, but I see your point.” “It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense. “Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.” “No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly. “You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my hormonal drive? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.” “King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me. “You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.” “King, I’m sorry I-” “You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive. I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.” “They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-” “I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind. “Why are you working here?” I struggle back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are. In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.” The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.” “You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning. “I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command. “As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod. I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly. “Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?” “A great boyfriend. If that matters?” The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.” “What shot would I have after this if you ban her?” “None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.” His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name. Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him? Chapter 3 Rumors and Crisis I don’t breathe until the kitchen doors slam behind me. How does the Mafia King know my name, surely he knows all his employees' names. He may just be a great boss. Right, that’s it. The Mafia King is a great boss who would’ve thought? My breathing slows and I realize I’m so caught up in my thoughts I don’t feel the entire kitchen looking at me until Toni clears his throat. “Elise?” I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I don’t respond. Instead, Dawn, the pastry chef, approaches me with flour-covered hands. “Hey girly, are you okay? Did the King…hurt you?” I shake my hand no, a strangled breath releases from my lips, and Dawn sighs, squeezing my cheeks. “Good because the King has no right hurting a girl as innocent as you.” “Like that would’ve been his first time!” Kelsey, the saucier, laughs in the corner of the kitchen. “Kels, you’re not helping,” Dawn snaps, but Toni approaches us wickedly. “I heard his favorite way to murder is the bloody eagle.” “Toni!” I look at Dawn’s horrified face as she runs to cover my ears. “What's the bloody eagle?” I whisper. The dread I had swimming in my gut since the King first laid eyes on me bubbles to the surface. I feel like I could vomit. “All I’m going to say is ribs pulled through the back. If you want more details, do your research online.” I would not, but Kelsey laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. The King treats his subjects like their commodities, completely replaceable. He’s the youngest King ever, and you don’t get to be King in your twenties without a trail of blood behind you.” Kelsey points her ladle at us in warning, “So watch ya’ step, or the King will gut ya’ like a fish!” “Or hang your head above his fireplace, I heard the king loves a trophy, and a pretty head like yours would be perfect.” Toni swats at my hair and Dawn pushes him back to his station. “What is all this racket?! Kelsey you’re messing around and broke the sauce!” The Head Chef, Yolanda enters the kitchen with a stern look in her eyes, “And you! Why aren’t you running my plates?” “I-I…” I rub my hands back and forth, feeling the tension of being in trouble for the third time tonight. “She just had an interaction with the King. Leave her alone.” Dawn snaps. Dawn and Yolanda are childhood best friends, and Dawn is the only one who can talk to Yolanda that way and still have her job. Yolanda’s face pales as she walks closer to me, “You interacted with the King and made it out alive? Count your lucky stars.” Yolanda approaches me cautiously and I don’t realize all the stress is forcing tears to burn in my eyes. “That man is cold-blooded like a snake.” Despite the bile I balance in the back of my throat, I look Yolanda in the eye and shake my head, “No, he protected me. He knew my name.” “He knew your name because you have a name tag on your shirt.” Yolanda flicks my name tag and I look down at it, a pang of disappointment shivering through me. “Protect you?” Dawn questions, “You didn’t say anything about the King protecting you.” “That may be worse. A dangerous man like him may like you, want you.” Yolanda whispers. My eyes widened. My skin flushes as Yolanda and Dawn share a look with each other. The King knew my name. The King wants me. I remember the way he said boyfriend as if it was the most disgusting word on his tongue. But just as I spiral, Dawn and Yolanda break into laughter. “Girl, bless your heart! A man that fine wants you. You better be over the moon happy.” Dawn lightly hits her rag on my right arm, and I flinch, holding my breath. “I mean, those gray eyes are just delicious!” Kelsey chimes in. “Nope, it has to be black curly hair.” Those eyes, that hair remind me of Sirius. His eyes could be a storm with everyone else and clear with me. How a single curl always danced in the middle of his forehead, and I’d spend all day pushing it back. The days when he was my Sirius. The laughter snaps me out of my daze. “I bet he wakes up with his hair like that, just messy and perfect!” “Yolanda, I don’t know if you want to be him or sleep with him?” “Does it matter?” The entire kitchen erupts into laughter. “I would take him any way I could get him. He is so fine!” “So how did he look up close, Elise? A walking daydream, huh?” Kelsey leans over her pot, wiggling her eyebrows. I hide my head slightly, blush to creep up the apple of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I show the kitchen my glasses. “I broke my glasses. All I could see was tall, charming, and hot.” The entire kitchen boos. “You get close to the Mafia King, and your glasses break!” Dawn pouts, pushing me away, and I giggle for the first time in this entire situation. “Sorry, I can’t tell you how hot he is. You’re going to have to figure that out yourselves!” “Hey! Why is no one helping me out on the floor?” An upset waiter enters the kitchen looking around at us. “I’ll be right there, just let me get my contacts.” I head towards the break room and rummage inside my purse, revealing my contact lenses. I begin to replace my contacts, looking into the crappy workplace mirror, but once my vision is clear, all I can see is my missing earring. One of my silver earrings from Sirius, he got me for our last anniversary together. He’s already missing. I can lose the last thing he’s ever given me. I look over at the floor near my locker, but I know where it is. It’s in the VIP area. I turn on my heel towards the VIP area. The Mafia King's warning echoed in my mind, I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. It’s filled with the type of dangerous people, normal people shouldn’t be around.” I push his warning into the back of my mind. With a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs. I’ll be quick! In and out before anyone notices. As I enter the VIP area, I immediately fall to my knees, crawling around for the earring and hiding from the boisterous men laughing around the bar. I freeze when the King’s voice booms through the area, “You’re lucky I don’t collect your freaking head!” The music in the VIP clicks off. “Boss, it was just a girl!” The man snaps back and the entire area seems to hold their breath as the twinkle of something catches my eye. “A girl under my protection. The same way you are under my protection.” The King's voice is even and controlled again, “And don’t I always protect mine?” I contort my body, grabbing the dangled earring from underneath the couch. “Let me provide you with this small mercy. I promise you the alternative is lethal, and it would be a shame to murder you when you’re still useful to me.” The club music clicks back on as if nothing happened. I sit up on the floor, fixing the earring in my ear. When the footsteps descend towards me. I am not quick enough when I hear the humorless laughter of the handsy man, “You are the freaking pain of my existence. I’m on grunt duty because of you.” I look up, my eyes darting between him and the stairs. If I jump up and run. I should make it. I will make it. I propel myself off the floor, running towards the stairs, but the handsy man is quicker. He pulls me back by my hair, caging me in. My breath hitches as cold metal digs into my side. His breath gushes over my face in puffs thick with the scent of tobacco and gin. “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” Chapter 4 The Mafia King is My Ex? “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” His fingernails dig into my wrist, but I bite back any response watching his nostrils flare. “You got me suspended from duties because you rather spread your legs for the King than me.” He pulls me against him, snarling at my confident facade. I look down at the mark forming on my wrist, keeping my voice as even as possible, I say, “I do not want the King. I do not know the King.” He pushes me against the brick wall, and with my better judgment, I whimper, gripping the back of my head, “You dare lie to me? After all you have done, you freaking lie to me?” Spit sprays over my face, his eyes bulge out of his head as he holds me against the wall. The concrete dug into my skin. “Please,” I whisper. “Please?! Please! You purposefully lead me to the freaking slaughter, shaking your tight body for the king, begging him to punish me for your fault.” His wet breath drips down my face, and I look away towards the hallway leading to the King. I didn’t know the King. He did not need to come to my rescue, yet he did. Maybe the King liked me the way Dawn said, but what did it matter? I did not want him. “I am not sorry you were punished. I said no.” “Oh, so this is the little game we’re going to play? You say no, and mean yes.” A greedy, devious smile spread across the man's lips as if the idea of conquering me in such a manner excited him. “You little freaking tease.” His palm digs into my waist, and my eyes water over, straining to look down the hallway to the King. “No.” “You like causing trouble, huh? You like luring men in to watch them. ” I hear the click of his belt, a dooming sound. “You need to be taught a lesson, and I love punishing little girls with fresh mouths.” A voice and the click of a door opening cut the tension. “Boss, who even was she?” He pulls me into a corner. He pulls me in front of him and presses himself on me. His gun is tucked under my chin, and his arm is wrapped around my waist as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t make a freaking sound.” I watch the King walk down the hallway, most of his subjects a step or two behind him. The young member with dirty brown hair and colorful tattoos walks almost in step with him. The King’s voice almost sounds bored as he responds. “That is none of your concern, Taylor.” “You punished one of your own men for her. I think you owe us an explanation.” Taylor snaps, stopping the King in his steps. “Owe?” He slowly turns, and I can see the King’s face clearly through a sliver of light. The girls downstairs didn’t do him any justice. He was breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame, his white button-up exposed the tattoo in swirling patterns on his chest and up part of his neck. His curly black hair was gelled back into a style of sorts, but two unruly curls escaped and framed his face. His eyes swirled like a storm, erupting and flashing between the calming gray and black. He looked almost like a tortured angel. He almost looks like Sirius. “You think I owe you?” The King snarls at Taylor, who instantly turns pale. “N-no, I just mean-” “You just mean I should allow subordinates to run rampant to assault and pillage like average thugs.” “Sir it just seemed like you cared about the girl too much.” “What I choose to care and not care about is none of your freaking business, but Dan was punished for lying to me,” The King leans in closer, “ I was feeling gracious, so he was given a slap on the wrist, next time I will cut out his tongue. But my kindness has expired.” “King.” Desperation drips in the boy’s tone, but the King dismisses him with the flick of his wrist, and a man drags Taylor away. “Step foot in my territory again, and you will be destroyed on sight.” The King continues walking forward as if he did not send someone to their death, but the gasp that escapes my lips makes him pause. “Dan?” The handsy man behind me shifts, a grunt escaping his throat. Then a shot rang out, something sliced through the air, and Dan shrieked, falling to his knees. “I show you kindness, and this is how you repay me?” The King’s voice is deathly low as he approaches, and I dare not move. I dare not breathe. “The call girl freaking deserves it.” A low rumble of laughter escapes the King, lowering himself over a bleeding Dan. He pushes the barrel of the gun into the wound in his shoulder. “You are freaking mad, murdering innocents just because they won’t sleep with you?” The King pistol whips Dan into the floor, and a strangled sound fills the room. Dan spits onto the floor. “This is the thanks I get for letting you keep your life?” “My King, she seduced me-” The King grips him by the collar dragging him close. “You think it is wise to lie again?” Dan audibly swallows, a whimper escaping his lips. The King snaps his finger, and a buff, bald man with the word mercy over his knuckles comes up behind him. “Yes, boss?” “I want his tongue and right hand.” With a curt nod, the man grips Dan by his injured shoulder and drags him deeper into the VIP area. “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” The King looks in the direction of a weeping, sounding annoyed. I slowly at the King from the corner of my eye, my mouth completely dry and my hands feverishly shaking. The scars on the King’s face glitter in the low lighting making my stomach twist, so I focus on the silver, twisted ring on his ring finger. It looks almost like tree branches gripping his skin. “I-I left something here.” “What?” His empty grey eyes lock on me. “An earring.” A short grunt leaves his lips, “You risked your life for an earring?” “It’s sentimental.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes closer to the ring, recognizing the red ruby in the center of a rose, and I almost choke, drilling my eyes into his, “Sirius?!” Chapter 5 An Unexpected Reunion “Sirius?!” My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe, staring into his eyes, I know. I know it’s him. He turns to me a blank look on his face. The silence in the room creeps over me, and I slowly look around the room. Every mafia member is staring at me, with tension in their necks, awaiting the command of their king. I almost believe I’ve misspoken as I watch the King’s jaw click. “Elise.” “Oh my god!” I take a step back, looking him over. He looks just like he did in high school, but buffed up and toned, no longer lean and boyish. He’s a full man now. “When I told you to stay away from here, I meant it. Earring or not.” “These were…you cannot tell me what to do, Sirius.” He tilts his head to the side, looking me over. “You gave these to me…before you…” “I know, earring or not. Do not come back up here. Stay away from the mafia.” His voice is ice-cold and distant. He starts to walk away from me, and I almost leap out of my skin following him. “Do not speak to me like that, not after what you did. You abandoned me, and now you dismiss me.” “We both know what really happened back then, don’t act like you don’t know. Do not make me into some villain.” “No, but you are heartless. You leave without a word. You disappear, then you come back and ignore me as if we were nothing. As if you didn’t even—” My words get caught in my chest as if I am about to cry, but Sirius turns sharply towards me, heat rising in his eyes. “Once. I had a heart once, but now when I tell you to do something, you listen, Elise, and that’s final.” Sirius speaks lowly in my face, his voice feathers over me. “Now leave.” My eyes cannot help but flicker at his lips, but I immediately take a step back when he licks them. “No. Just because you say jump, d-does not mean I have to follow, Sirius.” I can hear the click of a gun, and Sirius doesn’t even move as he watches my actions. I raise my hands up and grit my teeth, “I guess you won’t even let me say thank you before murdering me, huh? ” “Lower your weapons, no one is allowed to point a gun at her ever.” I put my hands down slowly, my anger and grief swirling into panic as he turns to leave again. “If I mean so little to you, why are you still wearing your ring?” The branching ring with a single ruby was part of a promise ring set Sirius and I had brought when we were silly and in love. My ring is in my jewelry bag, hidden so Alston won’t find it and ask questions. “For sentimental reasons. I engraved it with something to remind me of the past.” He looks down at the ring longingly before snapping his eyes to my hands. “Where is your ring?” “I lost it years ago.” I don’t know why I lie or what I try to hide, but I know I can’t let him think anything can happen between us. He just nods sharply, not letting any emotions pass over his face. A throat clears in the background, and the tension in the room deflates slightly at the fakely bubbly voice of Mr. Thompson. He stands between Sirius and me a sharp look in his eyes. “Is everything okay here?” “Just a conversation,” Sirius responds evenly, his eyes not leaving mine. Mr.Thompson gives an empty chuckle, “Ah yes, I had to have a conversation with this employee multiple times. She is lazy. She constantly elicits complaints for her promiscuity and irresponsible nature.” He turns to me, hard eyes in his eyes, raising his voice, “Elise, I told you one more time.” “Mr.Thompson, this isn’t what it looks.” I begin, but he puts a hand in my face silencing me. “No, no, the time has come Elise you have embarrassed yourself in front of the King. You have constantly caused problems. You are the most terrible waitress I have ever had the displeasure of managing--” Sirius clocks his gun, placing the barrel against the back of Mr.Thompson’s head and he freezes. “No, no, continue your rant with a gun to your head.” “Sir, I was just firing insubordinate who was causing you trouble.” Mr.Thompson raises his hands up shakily. “Do you think of me as a damsel in need of saving, Thompson?” “Absolutely not sir.” “So why would I need you to come to my rescue?” “Sir, she has been a terrible employee, and I think--” “I do not care what you think. One more insult at her, and I am blowing your freaking brain across this room, understand?” Mr.Thompson nods slowly. “Good.” Sirius puts his gun away, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this what you do all day? Threaten people’s lives?” “No normally I am not protecting my ex-girlfriend.” Sirius tucks the gun in his waistband, shrugging at Elise. “Where even is he?” “What are you talking about, Sirius?” He walks closer to me a teasing smile on his lips. “Where is your boyfriend? Why is he not here to step in during every crisis, like I am?” Sirius stands a breath away from me, and from his tone, I can tell he is taunting me, that he wants a rise out of me. For a second, I want to smile at his boyish ways. His jealousy-fueled mockery reminds me of my Sirius. “My relationship with Alston has nothing to do with you!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dip to my chest, but his eyes narrow, looking at me just as quickly. “I thought you were dating my brother Lester?” “No, he is like a brother to me.” He chuckles. “It would destroy him to hear you say that.” “Why would you think I was with Lester?” “I never would have guessed Alston because he is such a good guy. Taking down major corporations, defending the little guy. I thought you liked your guys with a little edge to them.” Sirius shrugs, a carefree look in his eyes. “You used to be a good guy.” Sirius flashes his million-dollar smile that makes my knees weaken. “I was never a good guy, you just always saw the good in me.” Sirius’s voice is barely above a whisper, causing shivers down my spine. Alston was good. After Sirius went missing, Alston pursued me and when Lester was severely injured, Alston was the one who gathered most of the money for the medical expenses. His good deeds made me fall for him. He was always saving the day, and knowing that he was my personal superhero made me feel secure, supported, and loved. Most importantly, I never felt like he would abandon me. “I agreed to be his girlfriend because he makes me feel safe, Sirius, physically and emotionally.” Sirius’s eyes widen and the careless smile on his face fizzles out. I want to reach up and cup his face. I want to tell him that despite moving on he was my first, I have never been crazy, or foolish in love with anyone else. It’s only been him. “Thompson, leave.” Sirius doesn’t break eye contact with me as Mr.Thompson scurries to leave, but before he can make his grand escape, “I want your office cleared out by the morning.” “What?” Mr.Thompson slows, looking over his shoulder, shock across his face. “Elise will be the new owner, effective in the morning.” Simultaneously Mr.Thompson and I both look at Sirius as if he has lost his mind, screaming, “What? Why?” “Because Alston is not the only person who can make you feel safe, Elise.”	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449044422_1575931366327027_957907443075673983_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MbptDtJacUUQ7kNvgEK4b4r&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAVFux962JPNejdmTEiaapQFahNvLcI3bIXP9I9HcWl3A&oe=6707C0AD	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,142	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102139}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 A Messy Life and the Mafia Six months ago, I was a promising med student on the verge of all my dreams coming true, but now I’m just a waitress trying to start over in a new city. I know this restaurant I work at has ties to the infamous Onyx Mafia, but I didn’t have much choice—it's the best-paying job I could find. Besides, the scariest thing about working here isn’t the Mafia, it is the man at table eight flagging me down, obviously fuming. “What looks wrong here?” He snaps and I scan table eight's orders. Foie gras for the blonde in red, Peking duck for the pouty daughter—check. But the impatient bald man tapping his fingers? He got the risotto, not the ribeye currently in front of him. A cold sweat sweeps down my spine as I look between the squinting gaze of the man and the squiggles that are my handwriting. I still write like a surgeon, yet another reminder of my failed dreams. "Wait, I'm sorry... you ordered--" My hands tremble, and my heart sinks as I realize the kitchen couldn’t decipher my handwriting and just took a guess. Lucky me, their guess was wrong. "I-I think the kitchen--" Before I can finish my sentence, Jessica descends upon us like a vulture, risotto in hand. "Apologies for the inconvenience," she chimes in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Elise here is still learning the ropes." "I can tell," the man responds curtly, his attention entirely on Jessica, silently dismissing me. There goes my tip. "Sir, I noticed you’re drinking the 1984 Chateau. Let me send another round on the house for your troubles," Jessica offers breathlessly, her bosom on display as she leans in, her eyes batting just like they did back in high school. The man grunts in agreement as her fingers dig into my arm like talons. She whispers through clenched teeth, "Kitchen. Now." I bow my head obediently as I follow her into the chaos of the kitchen. When I moved here, I promised things were going to be different. I would be no one’s stepping stool, and yet here I am again, at the mercy of another girl who appears oblivious to the fact that we graduated high school. “Elise struck again, boys!” Tony, the sous chef, calls out, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. “What was it this time? Dropped another soup? Tripped and broke all the glasses?” In my defense, the soup incident happened because a man molested me, and Jessica tripped me while I was carrying glasses for an 18-person table. “Oh, tonight she gave one of our regulars the wrong meal.” “It’s the kitchen’s fault. I ordered a risotto, not a ribeye."I retort, pushing my glasses up as I glare at Jessica. “And who could tell with that chicken scratch handwriting?” Tony snorts. “Remember she wanted to be a surgeon,” Jessica sneers. “Doctors notoriously have terrible handwriting, but not waitresses.” The other kitchen staff snicker at her remark. They all think I went to med school and couldn’t cut it. But they don't know the truth, and it would be worse if they did. I take a deep breath, trying to push down my anger. "You were supposed to be a surgeon, marry Sirius, live your perfect little life," she snaps back, the mention of his name, Sirius, still a punch to the gut after all these years. I bite my lip to stifle the retort that threatens to spill from my lips and look down at my tennis shoes, a lump forming in my throat. I can still remember the feeling of the day he disappeared. I told everyone he loved me, that he would be back, and that he would never just leave me, but they were all right. He was gone. He didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t brave enough to say it to my face before disappearing. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again. It’d be a combination of running into his arms, waiting to see every bit of his life I missed, and kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. "But then you ended up at the bottom, where you’re meant to be." I hold my breath. I can’t show Jessica she’s getting to me. "Good thing Sirius came to his senses like we all knew he would," Jessica retorts. "Once he was done slumming it, he ran away from you as fast as possible. I mean, you practically ran him out of town." The lump in my throat swells as memories of his abandonment flood back, the pain still fresh. "You know what--" "Those better are words of gratitude, Elise, because I am two seconds away from firing you," Jessica interrupts, her smirk widening as she relishes in my discomfort. I swallow back my retort, facing Mr. Thompson, the restaurant manager. Mr. Thompson's stern gaze pierces through me as he approaches. "Elise, why do I have Mr. Kelsey asking for a free bottle of wine for his troubles?" "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." "You have been promising to do better for weeks, Elise. That is not enough anymore," he snaps. "I'll work harder, I swear," I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please." Mr. Thompson holds up a hand to silence me. "You've got one more chance, Elise, but you’re out of here if I hear one more complaint. Do you understand?" I nod frantically."Yes, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down. I promise." He scoffs, clearly unconvinced. "For the rest of your shift, you are exclusive to the VIPs upstairs," he continues, his tone stern. "They’re too drunk to notice your insolence." "Yes, sir," I whisper. "And you better be on your best behavior because the Mafia king is here," Mr. Thompson warns. "And if I don’t have your head, he will." I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, as I nod, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Mr. Thompson storms off into his office, leaving Jessica behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Looks like you're on thin ice, Elise," Jessica says, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Better watch your step." "Why? You’re going to trip me?" "I would never, but since you are exclusive to VIPs," Jessica hands me a tray of appetizers too heavy for me to hold without almost falling over. "Take this to table 19... the King’s subjects are there." I take a deep breath as I walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. But as I look up at the men sitting upstairs, a wave of dread washes over me, making me want to run in the opposite direction. They're overly comfortable, as if they own the place as if they own the world. And in a way, they do. The rumors swirling around the restaurant's ownership, whispers of connections to the mafia, suddenly feel all too real. Each step closer to the VIP room feels heavier, as if I am dragging myself closer. As I approach, the men’s eyes leering over me like predators sizing up their prey. The minute I set down the appetizers, a hand grips the back of my leg, sending a shiver down my spine. "Hey there, sweetheart," the man slurs, his breath reeking of booze as he pulls me into his lap. "Why don’t you clock out and hang with the big dogs?" I squirm, feeling his hand wander where it shouldn't."No. Stop it. I have to get back to work," I protest, trying to push him away. But he only laughs, his grip tightening as his friends jeer and egg him on. I squirm, feeling something hard poking me, I begin to panic. He hisses in excitement in my ear. “Yeah, baby, keep doing that.” I try to pull away, causing my glasses to go flying. Great, now I’m blind too. I struggle with my body, tears stinging as I attempt to slide out of his lap, “I need my glasses.” “You do not need glasses for what we are going to do.” He pinches my chin, leaning in as if he is going to kiss me, but the sound of a growling, cleared throat causes him to pause. Panic rises in my throat as I realize that none of these guys will help me and that going against the Mafia for some random waitress is a losing battle. "In my restaurant, we do not tolerate harassment of women," the voice declares, cutting through the VIP, firm and unwavering. The handsy man practically throws me onto the floor as he looks up at the gentleman standing in front of him. I turn to see, in my blurry haze, the silhouette of a man looming protectively over me, his presence exuding authority and strength. The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?” Chapter 2 Mafia King Knows Me？ “What, no!” I stand up, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man. “No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. “She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me. Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her bosoms and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear. “Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a call girl?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her alluring appeal. The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off. “I admire how they always seem to get their way.” Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but she is fully prepared to go much further than that. But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.” The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?” Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake bosoms to be a good call girl, but I see your point.” “It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense. “Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.” “No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly. “You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my hormonal drive? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.” “King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me. “You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.” “King, I’m sorry I-” “You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive. I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.” “They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-” “I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind. “Why are you working here?” I struggle back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are. In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.” The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.” “You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning. “I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command. “As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod. I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly. “Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?” “A great boyfriend. If that matters?” The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.” “What shot would I have after this if you ban her?” “None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.” His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name. Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him? Chapter 3 Rumors and Crisis I don’t breathe until the kitchen doors slam behind me. How does the Mafia King know my name, surely he knows all his employees' names. He may just be a great boss. Right, that’s it. The Mafia King is a great boss who would’ve thought? My breathing slows and I realize I’m so caught up in my thoughts I don’t feel the entire kitchen looking at me until Toni clears his throat. “Elise?” I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I don’t respond. Instead, Dawn, the pastry chef, approaches me with flour-covered hands. “Hey girly, are you okay? Did the King…hurt you?” I shake my hand no, a strangled breath releases from my lips, and Dawn sighs, squeezing my cheeks. “Good because the King has no right hurting a girl as innocent as you.” “Like that would’ve been his first time!” Kelsey, the saucier, laughs in the corner of the kitchen. “Kels, you’re not helping,” Dawn snaps, but Toni approaches us wickedly. “I heard his favorite way to murder is the bloody eagle.” “Toni!” I look at Dawn’s horrified face as she runs to cover my ears. “What's the bloody eagle?” I whisper. The dread I had swimming in my gut since the King first laid eyes on me bubbles to the surface. I feel like I could vomit. “All I’m going to say is ribs pulled through the back. If you want more details, do your research online.” I would not, but Kelsey laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. The King treats his subjects like their commodities, completely replaceable. He’s the youngest King ever, and you don’t get to be King in your twenties without a trail of blood behind you.” Kelsey points her ladle at us in warning, “So watch ya’ step, or the King will gut ya’ like a fish!” “Or hang your head above his fireplace, I heard the king loves a trophy, and a pretty head like yours would be perfect.” Toni swats at my hair and Dawn pushes him back to his station. “What is all this racket?! Kelsey you’re messing around and broke the sauce!” The Head Chef, Yolanda enters the kitchen with a stern look in her eyes, “And you! Why aren’t you running my plates?” “I-I…” I rub my hands back and forth, feeling the tension of being in trouble for the third time tonight. “She just had an interaction with the King. Leave her alone.” Dawn snaps. Dawn and Yolanda are childhood best friends, and Dawn is the only one who can talk to Yolanda that way and still have her job. Yolanda’s face pales as she walks closer to me, “You interacted with the King and made it out alive? Count your lucky stars.” Yolanda approaches me cautiously and I don’t realize all the stress is forcing tears to burn in my eyes. “That man is cold-blooded like a snake.” Despite the bile I balance in the back of my throat, I look Yolanda in the eye and shake my head, “No, he protected me. He knew my name.” “He knew your name because you have a name tag on your shirt.” Yolanda flicks my name tag and I look down at it, a pang of disappointment shivering through me. “Protect you?” Dawn questions, “You didn’t say anything about the King protecting you.” “That may be worse. A dangerous man like him may like you, want you.” Yolanda whispers. My eyes widened. My skin flushes as Yolanda and Dawn share a look with each other. The King knew my name. The King wants me. I remember the way he said boyfriend as if it was the most disgusting word on his tongue. But just as I spiral, Dawn and Yolanda break into laughter. “Girl, bless your heart! A man that fine wants you. You better be over the moon happy.” Dawn lightly hits her rag on my right arm, and I flinch, holding my breath. “I mean, those gray eyes are just delicious!” Kelsey chimes in. “Nope, it has to be black curly hair.” Those eyes, that hair remind me of Sirius. His eyes could be a storm with everyone else and clear with me. How a single curl always danced in the middle of his forehead, and I’d spend all day pushing it back. The days when he was my Sirius. The laughter snaps me out of my daze. “I bet he wakes up with his hair like that, just messy and perfect!” “Yolanda, I don’t know if you want to be him or sleep with him?” “Does it matter?” The entire kitchen erupts into laughter. “I would take him any way I could get him. He is so fine!” “So how did he look up close, Elise? A walking daydream, huh?” Kelsey leans over her pot, wiggling her eyebrows. I hide my head slightly, blush to creep up the apple of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I show the kitchen my glasses. “I broke my glasses. All I could see was tall, charming, and hot.” The entire kitchen boos. “You get close to the Mafia King, and your glasses break!” Dawn pouts, pushing me away, and I giggle for the first time in this entire situation. “Sorry, I can’t tell you how hot he is. You’re going to have to figure that out yourselves!” “Hey! Why is no one helping me out on the floor?” An upset waiter enters the kitchen looking around at us. “I’ll be right there, just let me get my contacts.” I head towards the break room and rummage inside my purse, revealing my contact lenses. I begin to replace my contacts, looking into the crappy workplace mirror, but once my vision is clear, all I can see is my missing earring. One of my silver earrings from Sirius, he got me for our last anniversary together. He’s already missing. I can lose the last thing he’s ever given me. I look over at the floor near my locker, but I know where it is. It’s in the VIP area. I turn on my heel towards the VIP area. The Mafia King's warning echoed in my mind, I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. It’s filled with the type of dangerous people, normal people shouldn’t be around.” I push his warning into the back of my mind. With a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs. I’ll be quick! In and out before anyone notices. As I enter the VIP area, I immediately fall to my knees, crawling around for the earring and hiding from the boisterous men laughing around the bar. I freeze when the King’s voice booms through the area, “You’re lucky I don’t collect your freaking head!” The music in the VIP clicks off. “Boss, it was just a girl!” The man snaps back and the entire area seems to hold their breath as the twinkle of something catches my eye. “A girl under my protection. The same way you are under my protection.” The King's voice is even and controlled again, “And don’t I always protect mine?” I contort my body, grabbing the dangled earring from underneath the couch. “Let me provide you with this small mercy. I promise you the alternative is lethal, and it would be a shame to murder you when you’re still useful to me.” The club music clicks back on as if nothing happened. I sit up on the floor, fixing the earring in my ear. When the footsteps descend towards me. I am not quick enough when I hear the humorless laughter of the handsy man, “You are the freaking pain of my existence. I’m on grunt duty because of you.” I look up, my eyes darting between him and the stairs. If I jump up and run. I should make it. I will make it. I propel myself off the floor, running towards the stairs, but the handsy man is quicker. He pulls me back by my hair, caging me in. My breath hitches as cold metal digs into my side. His breath gushes over my face in puffs thick with the scent of tobacco and gin. “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” Chapter 4 The Mafia King is My Ex? “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” His fingernails dig into my wrist, but I bite back any response watching his nostrils flare. “You got me suspended from duties because you rather spread your legs for the King than me.” He pulls me against him, snarling at my confident facade. I look down at the mark forming on my wrist, keeping my voice as even as possible, I say, “I do not want the King. I do not know the King.” He pushes me against the brick wall, and with my better judgment, I whimper, gripping the back of my head, “You dare lie to me? After all you have done, you freaking lie to me?” Spit sprays over my face, his eyes bulge out of his head as he holds me against the wall. The concrete dug into my skin. “Please,” I whisper. “Please?! Please! You purposefully lead me to the freaking slaughter, shaking your tight body for the king, begging him to punish me for your fault.” His wet breath drips down my face, and I look away towards the hallway leading to the King. I didn’t know the King. He did not need to come to my rescue, yet he did. Maybe the King liked me the way Dawn said, but what did it matter? I did not want him. “I am not sorry you were punished. I said no.” “Oh, so this is the little game we’re going to play? You say no, and mean yes.” A greedy, devious smile spread across the man's lips as if the idea of conquering me in such a manner excited him. “You little freaking tease.” His palm digs into my waist, and my eyes water over, straining to look down the hallway to the King. “No.” “You like causing trouble, huh? You like luring men in to watch them. ” I hear the click of his belt, a dooming sound. “You need to be taught a lesson, and I love punishing little girls with fresh mouths.” A voice and the click of a door opening cut the tension. “Boss, who even was she?” He pulls me into a corner. He pulls me in front of him and presses himself on me. His gun is tucked under my chin, and his arm is wrapped around my waist as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t make a freaking sound.” I watch the King walk down the hallway, most of his subjects a step or two behind him. The young member with dirty brown hair and colorful tattoos walks almost in step with him. The King’s voice almost sounds bored as he responds. “That is none of your concern, Taylor.” “You punished one of your own men for her. I think you owe us an explanation.” Taylor snaps, stopping the King in his steps. “Owe?” He slowly turns, and I can see the King’s face clearly through a sliver of light. The girls downstairs didn’t do him any justice. He was breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame, his white button-up exposed the tattoo in swirling patterns on his chest and up part of his neck. His curly black hair was gelled back into a style of sorts, but two unruly curls escaped and framed his face. His eyes swirled like a storm, erupting and flashing between the calming gray and black. He looked almost like a tortured angel. He almost looks like Sirius. “You think I owe you?” The King snarls at Taylor, who instantly turns pale. “N-no, I just mean-” “You just mean I should allow subordinates to run rampant to assault and pillage like average thugs.” “Sir it just seemed like you cared about the girl too much.” “What I choose to care and not care about is none of your freaking business, but Dan was punished for lying to me,” The King leans in closer, “ I was feeling gracious, so he was given a slap on the wrist, next time I will cut out his tongue. But my kindness has expired.” “King.” Desperation drips in the boy’s tone, but the King dismisses him with the flick of his wrist, and a man drags Taylor away. “Step foot in my territory again, and you will be destroyed on sight.” The King continues walking forward as if he did not send someone to their death, but the gasp that escapes my lips makes him pause. “Dan?” The handsy man behind me shifts, a grunt escaping his throat. Then a shot rang out, something sliced through the air, and Dan shrieked, falling to his knees. “I show you kindness, and this is how you repay me?” The King’s voice is deathly low as he approaches, and I dare not move. I dare not breathe. “The call girl freaking deserves it.” A low rumble of laughter escapes the King, lowering himself over a bleeding Dan. He pushes the barrel of the gun into the wound in his shoulder. “You are freaking mad, murdering innocents just because they won’t sleep with you?” The King pistol whips Dan into the floor, and a strangled sound fills the room. Dan spits onto the floor. “This is the thanks I get for letting you keep your life?” “My King, she seduced me-” The King grips him by the collar dragging him close. “You think it is wise to lie again?” Dan audibly swallows, a whimper escaping his lips. The King snaps his finger, and a buff, bald man with the word mercy over his knuckles comes up behind him. “Yes, boss?” “I want his tongue and right hand.” With a curt nod, the man grips Dan by his injured shoulder and drags him deeper into the VIP area. “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” The King looks in the direction of a weeping, sounding annoyed. I slowly at the King from the corner of my eye, my mouth completely dry and my hands feverishly shaking. The scars on the King’s face glitter in the low lighting making my stomach twist, so I focus on the silver, twisted ring on his ring finger. It looks almost like tree branches gripping his skin. “I-I left something here.” “What?” His empty grey eyes lock on me. “An earring.” A short grunt leaves his lips, “You risked your life for an earring?” “It’s sentimental.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes closer to the ring, recognizing the red ruby in the center of a rose, and I almost choke, drilling my eyes into his, “Sirius?!” Chapter 5 An Unexpected Reunion “Sirius?!” My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe, staring into his eyes, I know. I know it’s him. He turns to me a blank look on his face. The silence in the room creeps over me, and I slowly look around the room. Every mafia member is staring at me, with tension in their necks, awaiting the command of their king. I almost believe I’ve misspoken as I watch the King’s jaw click. “Elise.” “Oh my god!” I take a step back, looking him over. He looks just like he did in high school, but buffed up and toned, no longer lean and boyish. He’s a full man now. “When I told you to stay away from here, I meant it. Earring or not.” “These were…you cannot tell me what to do, Sirius.” He tilts his head to the side, looking me over. “You gave these to me…before you…” “I know, earring or not. Do not come back up here. Stay away from the mafia.” His voice is ice-cold and distant. He starts to walk away from me, and I almost leap out of my skin following him. “Do not speak to me like that, not after what you did. You abandoned me, and now you dismiss me.” “We both know what really happened back then, don’t act like you don’t know. Do not make me into some villain.” “No, but you are heartless. You leave without a word. You disappear, then you come back and ignore me as if we were nothing. As if you didn’t even—” My words get caught in my chest as if I am about to cry, but Sirius turns sharply towards me, heat rising in his eyes. “Once. I had a heart once, but now when I tell you to do something, you listen, Elise, and that’s final.” Sirius speaks lowly in my face, his voice feathers over me. “Now leave.” My eyes cannot help but flicker at his lips, but I immediately take a step back when he licks them. “No. Just because you say jump, d-does not mean I have to follow, Sirius.” I can hear the click of a gun, and Sirius doesn’t even move as he watches my actions. I raise my hands up and grit my teeth, “I guess you won’t even let me say thank you before murdering me, huh? ” “Lower your weapons, no one is allowed to point a gun at her ever.” I put my hands down slowly, my anger and grief swirling into panic as he turns to leave again. “If I mean so little to you, why are you still wearing your ring?” The branching ring with a single ruby was part of a promise ring set Sirius and I had brought when we were silly and in love. My ring is in my jewelry bag, hidden so Alston won’t find it and ask questions. “For sentimental reasons. I engraved it with something to remind me of the past.” He looks down at the ring longingly before snapping his eyes to my hands. “Where is your ring?” “I lost it years ago.” I don’t know why I lie or what I try to hide, but I know I can’t let him think anything can happen between us. He just nods sharply, not letting any emotions pass over his face. A throat clears in the background, and the tension in the room deflates slightly at the fakely bubbly voice of Mr. Thompson. He stands between Sirius and me a sharp look in his eyes. “Is everything okay here?” “Just a conversation,” Sirius responds evenly, his eyes not leaving mine. Mr.Thompson gives an empty chuckle, “Ah yes, I had to have a conversation with this employee multiple times. She is lazy. She constantly elicits complaints for her promiscuity and irresponsible nature.” He turns to me, hard eyes in his eyes, raising his voice, “Elise, I told you one more time.” “Mr.Thompson, this isn’t what it looks.” I begin, but he puts a hand in my face silencing me. “No, no, the time has come Elise you have embarrassed yourself in front of the King. You have constantly caused problems. You are the most terrible waitress I have ever had the displeasure of managing--” Sirius clocks his gun, placing the barrel against the back of Mr.Thompson’s head and he freezes. “No, no, continue your rant with a gun to your head.” “Sir, I was just firing insubordinate who was causing you trouble.” Mr.Thompson raises his hands up shakily. “Do you think of me as a damsel in need of saving, Thompson?” “Absolutely not sir.” “So why would I need you to come to my rescue?” “Sir, she has been a terrible employee, and I think--” “I do not care what you think. One more insult at her, and I am blowing your freaking brain across this room, understand?” Mr.Thompson nods slowly. “Good.” Sirius puts his gun away, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this what you do all day? Threaten people’s lives?” “No normally I am not protecting my ex-girlfriend.” Sirius tucks the gun in his waistband, shrugging at Elise. “Where even is he?” “What are you talking about, Sirius?” He walks closer to me a teasing smile on his lips. “Where is your boyfriend? Why is he not here to step in during every crisis, like I am?” Sirius stands a breath away from me, and from his tone, I can tell he is taunting me, that he wants a rise out of me. For a second, I want to smile at his boyish ways. His jealousy-fueled mockery reminds me of my Sirius. “My relationship with Alston has nothing to do with you!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dip to my chest, but his eyes narrow, looking at me just as quickly. “I thought you were dating my brother Lester?” “No, he is like a brother to me.” He chuckles. “It would destroy him to hear you say that.” “Why would you think I was with Lester?” “I never would have guessed Alston because he is such a good guy. Taking down major corporations, defending the little guy. I thought you liked your guys with a little edge to them.” Sirius shrugs, a carefree look in his eyes. “You used to be a good guy.” Sirius flashes his million-dollar smile that makes my knees weaken. “I was never a good guy, you just always saw the good in me.” Sirius’s voice is barely above a whisper, causing shivers down my spine. Alston was good. After Sirius went missing, Alston pursued me and when Lester was severely injured, Alston was the one who gathered most of the money for the medical expenses. His good deeds made me fall for him. He was always saving the day, and knowing that he was my personal superhero made me feel secure, supported, and loved. Most importantly, I never felt like he would abandon me. “I agreed to be his girlfriend because he makes me feel safe, Sirius, physically and emotionally.” Sirius’s eyes widen and the careless smile on his face fizzles out. I want to reach up and cup his face. I want to tell him that despite moving on he was my first, I have never been crazy, or foolish in love with anyone else. It’s only been him. “Thompson, leave.” Sirius doesn’t break eye contact with me as Mr.Thompson scurries to leave, but before he can make his grand escape, “I want your office cleared out by the morning.” “What?” Mr.Thompson slows, looking over his shoulder, shock across his face. “Elise will be the new owner, effective in the morning.” Simultaneously Mr.Thompson and I both look at Sirius as if he has lost his mind, screaming, “What? Why?” “Because Alston is not the only person who can make you feel safe, Elise.”	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449044422_1575931366327027_957907443075673983_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MbptDtJacUUQ7kNvgEK4b4r&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAVFux962JPNejdmTEiaapQFahNvLcI3bIXP9I9HcWl3A&oe=6707C0AD	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,144	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102145}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	Neah "Where is she?" I hear the Beta scream. I groan and rise to my feet, grabbing the cleaning basket before heading over. The moment Beta Kyle sees me, he strides towards me and his hand slices against my cheek. I don't make a sound. Years of experience has taught me to keep my mouth shut at all times. "Alpha Trey and I are expecting company and you still have not cleaned the office." Beta Kyle spits at me. I nod my head and my hand tightens on the cleaning basket. If only I could find the courage to swing it at his head, it would make my day. But I didn't need another week locked up with no food. My stomach already hurt enough. "We are trying to make a good impression on Alpha Dane. Don't you understand how important it is for us to join ourselves with his pack?!" I don't answer, It's a trap, a ploy to provoke me into saying something that would justify punishment. I keep my eyes lowered, avoiding his gaze. Alpha Dane, I had only ever heard rumours about him. He was a ruthless man, a Wolf feared by others. He didn't mess around and he had the largest pack. "He is the Alpha of Black Shadow, the biggest pack in the world, we need him!" We had never been attacked and we had never attacked anyone, so why did we need another pack to help us? He grabs my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin as he turns me around and kicks me into the office. "Useless Wolf." He mutters as he moves away. Quietly closing the door, I lean against it, observing the already clean office. It looked perfectly fine for a meeting with this so-called powerful Alpha. Closing my eyes, I slide down to the floor. I hated this house. I thought that when I turned eighteen, I could finally escape, but four years later, here I still am, a slave in my own home. Doing all the dirty tasks for my brother, Alpha Trey and the pack. While my ex mate, Beta Kyle waltzes around reminding me of how worthless I am. Someone clears their throat and I freeze, I thought I was alone. Leaning forward, I see a handsome man sitting in a chair, just around the corner. A foot propped up on his knee as he nurses a glass of alcohol. His short hair is dark and his eyes are a deep crimson colour, that don't quite look right. They suddenly shift to me and I throw myself back against the door as my heart pounded. "Is this the way you greet all Alphas?" His deep voice rumbles through the room, there was an edge of amusement to his tone. "I'm sorry." I whisper, getting to my feet. "I...I thought I was alone." I had no idea who he was but I could feel the power radiating off of him, even without my Wolf. "Come forward." He orders and I already feel a lump forming in my throat. Alpha Trey wil kill me. I step around the corner, doing as I'm told, allowing him to see me properly. I close my eyes, expecting the worst. "You smell funny. Yet you are a Wolf, correct?" I nod, though I couldn't tell how he was going to react. Most laughed when they found out about me. "I would prefer it if you spoke to me." He growls, "I'm not in the mood to play games." "Yes." I whisper. I couldn't help but think of all the punishments I was going to have to endure. A whipping maybe? Starvation for another week? "Why do you smell strange? And how is it possible for you to not know I was in the room? You should have scented me." "I..." I hated the question. "You should open your eyes when you are talking to someone. It's rude to not look at them. Has your Alpha not taught you anything?" His deep voice sends a shiver through me. Slowly, I open my eyes and lower them, there was no way I was making eye contact."My Wolf abilities were bound," I mutter. Twice, I wanted to add. Twice my abilities were bound. But he probably wasn't interested in that part. He leans forward, I could feel him staring at me, "Why would someone do that?" If this is the Alpha that my brother is supposed to be meeting with, I knew I could screw everything up for him by saying too much. "It was a punishment." I whisper. It wasn't far from the entire truth. There's a twitch in his cheek. Was he angry to hear of such a punishment? Or maybe, just like the others, he was amused by it. I couldn't tell. The door swings open and my brother screeches at me "Neah, what are you doing in my office?" He turns to the crimson eyed man. "I am so sorry that my sister is bothering you, Alpha Dane." Crap, it's him. My brother spins around, hand poised to hit me. I close my eyes, bracing myself, ready to feel the burn. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."Peeking through slits, I see Alpha Dane has risen to his feet, his hand coiled around my brother's wrist. He is taller than my brother, more muscly too. "Neah," My name rolls off of his tongue, "was kindly showing me to your office, Alpha Trey, as you failed to meet me at the front of your house like I requested." What? I had no idea what he was talking about. And he had no reason to lie for me. My brother glares at me, clenching his jaw tight. "Go and get Beta Kyle." Alpha Trey seethes. "Tell him our guest is here." I nod my head and hurry from the room, the last thing I wanted was to be caught between bickering men. "Beta Kyle," I whisper as I enter the dining hall. He instantly glares at me with his dark eyes. I had spoken without being spoken to. "Alpha Trey is in the office with Alpha Dane. I was sent to inform you." He slams the newspaper down on the table and glares at me as he walks by. "You're lucky that the Alpha sent you to get me, otherwise you wouldn't see sunlight for a few days." Pausing behind me, he yanks my head back, locking his fingers in my hair, leaning in close to me, I feel his hot breath on my skin. He doesn't speak, it was just his way of proving that he could do what he wants when he wants. I try to keep myself busy so I can stay as far away from the office as possible. My peace doesn't last long when I hear my brother calling out to me. Quietly, I pad towards the office and plaster a smile on my face as I open the door. "Neah, go get the champagne and some glasses, we are celebrating." I bow my head and hurry to the drinks cabinet. Quickly finding what my brother has asked for. As I re-enter the office, I can feel Alpha Dane watching my every move, even the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. No one ever watches me this closely. "Neah is your sister, correct?" Alpha Dane questions my brother. "She is." Alpha Trey mutters with disgust. He looks away from me to focus on the man asking questions. "Why do you treat her like trash?" Straight to the point, my brother wouldn't like that. He only liked sharing information on his terms. No one had spoken to my brother about his treatment of me because everyone took great joy in beating me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move but I knew I had to get out of there. If this deal goes to pot because of me, then that would be my fault too. "Neah was responsible for our parents' death." Alpha Trey spits I closed my eyes, battling back the tears that were threatening to break free. "Responsible how?" Alpha Dane's voice rumbles through me. He was definitely angry. "She served them Wolfsbane." Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound. I knew Alpha Dane was studying me. They all did, no one could ever quite believe how someone could do something so disgusting as poisoning their own parents. I stood there, with my head hanging low, wishing for the ground to open up and suck me in. There are movements around me. He was standing directly in front of me. With a rough finger he tilts my face up towards his, forcing me to look at him. "You poisoned your parents?" "I was six." I splutter. "I just made them lemonade." My voice comes out all squeaky as I try to defend myself. I could barely remember my parents, but I could remember all the guilt I had been made to feel since that day. His crimson eyes flash to my brothers. "Hardly seems fair to blame a six year old." "A six year old should know the difference between plants." Alpha Trey snaps "Sounds to me like she was set up." Alpha Dane shrugs his shoulders, letting go of me. "You weren't there, Alpha Dane." My brother muttered through gritted teeth as his eyes narrowed to slits. "I didn't ask you here to talk about my slave!" Alpha Dane grabs his leather jacket from the chair. Unlike other Alpha's he seemed to dress more casually. A simple black tee and jeans covered his huge frame. And unlike other Alpha's, his arms are bare of tattoos, not a single bit of ink poked out anywhere. "You're right and now I have a few things to mull over." "I thought we agreed." My brother exclaims "Nothing has been signed. Now I will show myself out." The moment he is out of the office, both my brother and Beta Kyle round on me. "What the heck did you say to him?" My brother demands, slamming a hand into my stomach. "N...nothing. Well, he just asked me why I smelled funny." "Did you tell him?" Beta Kyle demands. He was practically spitting in my face. I hated him. I hated him so much that I had vowed to one day get my revenge and rip his stomach out through his mouth. "WELL?" My brother yells when I don't immediately respond and smacks me across the side of the head. My head involuntarily moves up and down. "But I didn't say it was you." I tried to sound strong and confident but it just comes out as a whisper. My brother's hand locks into my black hair as he yanks my head back, sending a shooting pain through my skull. "If you have ruined this, you won't see daylight again." He drags me by my hair from the office and down the hallway towards the basement door. "Please…." I beg. "He was an Alpha…I… I had to answer him." My cheeks burn with my tears as he flings the door open. On the other side of the door is Alpha Dane. He is leaning against the wall with his arms folded, staring out at us. My brother's hand falls from my hair, relieving the pressure on the back of my skull... "Alpha Dane, I thought you had left." Alpha Trey murmurs angrily. "I said I would show myself out. I thought I had found the door, but instead I find a basement, riddled in your sister's strange scent. Is this how you treat your family?" "As I said," my brother holds his ground, "She is responsible for the death of my parents, so yes, this is what she deserves." "You should keep your nose out of other packs' business!" Beta Kyle adds. Alpha Dane laughs. "If I agree to this deal, everything about your business becomes my business. So tell me, what would your punishment be for her? No food, locked away for a week, beatings?" Both Alpha Trey and Beta Kyle hold their tongues. There was no reason for him to defend me and yet he was. I was a nobody, no one special. Just who everyone called a traitor. Only instead of being given a death sentence, my brother had decided to make me spend my life suffering. I see those crimson eyes land on my swollen face. "I have a proposition for you, Alpha Trey." Alpha Dane speaks up again. "We have already agreed on terms." "Well, I'm adding one. And if you don't agree, you will not get my help. Instead, you will become my enemy. And we both know, you don't want that." "I take it that your new terms have something to do with her?" Alpha Trey mutters through clenched teeth. "You would be correct. Let me take her away to my pack and then you, Trey will have a deal." Me? Why would he want me? As my brother and his Beta discuss me, Alpha Dane is still studying me. His look made me nervous. What could someone like him possibly want with me? "Deal." Alpha Trey sticks out his hand for Alpha Dane to shake. He doesn't take it, instead his crimson eyes shift from me to my brother. "I will have paperwork drawn up and will return tomorrow." He reaches a hand out and cups my face, "Ensure you have everything packed." He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and strides to the opposite end of the hallway and straight to the front door. He knew exactly where the front door was, so what was he up to? He pauses at the door. "If I find out any one of you has laid a hand on her. The contract will be the last thing you need to worry about." He struts out, slamming the door behind him. After Dane leaves, my brother grabs me by the collar. "You think you're going to have a good life if you follow Alpha Dane out of here? Don't be naive!" He continues in a vicious voice. "He's the coldest man in the world, he's killed nine of his mates, I'm waiting to see what happens to you!"	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2,102,141	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102139}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 A Messy Life and the Mafia Six months ago, I was a promising med student on the verge of all my dreams coming true, but now I’m just a waitress trying to start over in a new city. I know this restaurant I work at has ties to the infamous Onyx Mafia, but I didn’t have much choice—it's the best-paying job I could find. Besides, the scariest thing about working here isn’t the Mafia, it is the man at table eight flagging me down, obviously fuming. “What looks wrong here?” He snaps and I scan table eight's orders. Foie gras for the blonde in red, Peking duck for the pouty daughter—check. But the impatient bald man tapping his fingers? He got the risotto, not the ribeye currently in front of him. A cold sweat sweeps down my spine as I look between the squinting gaze of the man and the squiggles that are my handwriting. I still write like a surgeon, yet another reminder of my failed dreams. "Wait, I'm sorry... you ordered--" My hands tremble, and my heart sinks as I realize the kitchen couldn’t decipher my handwriting and just took a guess. Lucky me, their guess was wrong. "I-I think the kitchen--" Before I can finish my sentence, Jessica descends upon us like a vulture, risotto in hand. "Apologies for the inconvenience," she chimes in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Elise here is still learning the ropes." "I can tell," the man responds curtly, his attention entirely on Jessica, silently dismissing me. There goes my tip. "Sir, I noticed you’re drinking the 1984 Chateau. Let me send another round on the house for your troubles," Jessica offers breathlessly, her bosom on display as she leans in, her eyes batting just like they did back in high school. The man grunts in agreement as her fingers dig into my arm like talons. She whispers through clenched teeth, "Kitchen. Now." I bow my head obediently as I follow her into the chaos of the kitchen. When I moved here, I promised things were going to be different. I would be no one’s stepping stool, and yet here I am again, at the mercy of another girl who appears oblivious to the fact that we graduated high school. “Elise struck again, boys!” Tony, the sous chef, calls out, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. “What was it this time? Dropped another soup? Tripped and broke all the glasses?” In my defense, the soup incident happened because a man molested me, and Jessica tripped me while I was carrying glasses for an 18-person table. “Oh, tonight she gave one of our regulars the wrong meal.” “It’s the kitchen’s fault. I ordered a risotto, not a ribeye."I retort, pushing my glasses up as I glare at Jessica. “And who could tell with that chicken scratch handwriting?” Tony snorts. “Remember she wanted to be a surgeon,” Jessica sneers. “Doctors notoriously have terrible handwriting, but not waitresses.” The other kitchen staff snicker at her remark. They all think I went to med school and couldn’t cut it. But they don't know the truth, and it would be worse if they did. I take a deep breath, trying to push down my anger. "You were supposed to be a surgeon, marry Sirius, live your perfect little life," she snaps back, the mention of his name, Sirius, still a punch to the gut after all these years. I bite my lip to stifle the retort that threatens to spill from my lips and look down at my tennis shoes, a lump forming in my throat. I can still remember the feeling of the day he disappeared. I told everyone he loved me, that he would be back, and that he would never just leave me, but they were all right. He was gone. He didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t brave enough to say it to my face before disappearing. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again. It’d be a combination of running into his arms, waiting to see every bit of his life I missed, and kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. "But then you ended up at the bottom, where you’re meant to be." I hold my breath. I can’t show Jessica she’s getting to me. "Good thing Sirius came to his senses like we all knew he would," Jessica retorts. "Once he was done slumming it, he ran away from you as fast as possible. I mean, you practically ran him out of town." The lump in my throat swells as memories of his abandonment flood back, the pain still fresh. "You know what--" "Those better are words of gratitude, Elise, because I am two seconds away from firing you," Jessica interrupts, her smirk widening as she relishes in my discomfort. I swallow back my retort, facing Mr. Thompson, the restaurant manager. Mr. Thompson's stern gaze pierces through me as he approaches. "Elise, why do I have Mr. Kelsey asking for a free bottle of wine for his troubles?" "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." "You have been promising to do better for weeks, Elise. That is not enough anymore," he snaps. "I'll work harder, I swear," I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please." Mr. Thompson holds up a hand to silence me. "You've got one more chance, Elise, but you’re out of here if I hear one more complaint. Do you understand?" I nod frantically."Yes, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down. I promise." He scoffs, clearly unconvinced. "For the rest of your shift, you are exclusive to the VIPs upstairs," he continues, his tone stern. "They’re too drunk to notice your insolence." "Yes, sir," I whisper. "And you better be on your best behavior because the Mafia king is here," Mr. Thompson warns. "And if I don’t have your head, he will." I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, as I nod, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Mr. Thompson storms off into his office, leaving Jessica behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Looks like you're on thin ice, Elise," Jessica says, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Better watch your step." "Why? You’re going to trip me?" "I would never, but since you are exclusive to VIPs," Jessica hands me a tray of appetizers too heavy for me to hold without almost falling over. "Take this to table 19... the King’s subjects are there." I take a deep breath as I walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. But as I look up at the men sitting upstairs, a wave of dread washes over me, making me want to run in the opposite direction. They're overly comfortable, as if they own the place as if they own the world. And in a way, they do. The rumors swirling around the restaurant's ownership, whispers of connections to the mafia, suddenly feel all too real. Each step closer to the VIP room feels heavier, as if I am dragging myself closer. As I approach, the men’s eyes leering over me like predators sizing up their prey. The minute I set down the appetizers, a hand grips the back of my leg, sending a shiver down my spine. "Hey there, sweetheart," the man slurs, his breath reeking of booze as he pulls me into his lap. "Why don’t you clock out and hang with the big dogs?" I squirm, feeling his hand wander where it shouldn't."No. Stop it. I have to get back to work," I protest, trying to push him away. But he only laughs, his grip tightening as his friends jeer and egg him on. I squirm, feeling something hard poking me, I begin to panic. He hisses in excitement in my ear. “Yeah, baby, keep doing that.” I try to pull away, causing my glasses to go flying. Great, now I’m blind too. I struggle with my body, tears stinging as I attempt to slide out of his lap, “I need my glasses.” “You do not need glasses for what we are going to do.” He pinches my chin, leaning in as if he is going to kiss me, but the sound of a growling, cleared throat causes him to pause. Panic rises in my throat as I realize that none of these guys will help me and that going against the Mafia for some random waitress is a losing battle. "In my restaurant, we do not tolerate harassment of women," the voice declares, cutting through the VIP, firm and unwavering. The handsy man practically throws me onto the floor as he looks up at the gentleman standing in front of him. I turn to see, in my blurry haze, the silhouette of a man looming protectively over me, his presence exuding authority and strength. The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?” Chapter 2 Mafia King Knows Me？ “What, no!” I stand up, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man. “No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. “She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me. Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her bosoms and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear. “Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a call girl?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her alluring appeal. The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off. “I admire how they always seem to get their way.” Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but she is fully prepared to go much further than that. But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.” The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?” Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake bosoms to be a good call girl, but I see your point.” “It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense. “Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.” “No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly. “You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my hormonal drive? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.” “King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me. “You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.” “King, I’m sorry I-” “You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive. I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.” “They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-” “I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind. “Why are you working here?” I struggle back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are. In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.” The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.” “You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning. “I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command. “As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod. I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly. “Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?” “A great boyfriend. If that matters?” The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.” “What shot would I have after this if you ban her?” “None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.” His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name. Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him? Chapter 3 Rumors and Crisis I don’t breathe until the kitchen doors slam behind me. How does the Mafia King know my name, surely he knows all his employees' names. He may just be a great boss. Right, that’s it. The Mafia King is a great boss who would’ve thought? My breathing slows and I realize I’m so caught up in my thoughts I don’t feel the entire kitchen looking at me until Toni clears his throat. “Elise?” I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I don’t respond. Instead, Dawn, the pastry chef, approaches me with flour-covered hands. “Hey girly, are you okay? Did the King…hurt you?” I shake my hand no, a strangled breath releases from my lips, and Dawn sighs, squeezing my cheeks. “Good because the King has no right hurting a girl as innocent as you.” “Like that would’ve been his first time!” Kelsey, the saucier, laughs in the corner of the kitchen. “Kels, you’re not helping,” Dawn snaps, but Toni approaches us wickedly. “I heard his favorite way to murder is the bloody eagle.” “Toni!” I look at Dawn’s horrified face as she runs to cover my ears. “What's the bloody eagle?” I whisper. The dread I had swimming in my gut since the King first laid eyes on me bubbles to the surface. I feel like I could vomit. “All I’m going to say is ribs pulled through the back. If you want more details, do your research online.” I would not, but Kelsey laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. The King treats his subjects like their commodities, completely replaceable. He’s the youngest King ever, and you don’t get to be King in your twenties without a trail of blood behind you.” Kelsey points her ladle at us in warning, “So watch ya’ step, or the King will gut ya’ like a fish!” “Or hang your head above his fireplace, I heard the king loves a trophy, and a pretty head like yours would be perfect.” Toni swats at my hair and Dawn pushes him back to his station. “What is all this racket?! Kelsey you’re messing around and broke the sauce!” The Head Chef, Yolanda enters the kitchen with a stern look in her eyes, “And you! Why aren’t you running my plates?” “I-I…” I rub my hands back and forth, feeling the tension of being in trouble for the third time tonight. “She just had an interaction with the King. Leave her alone.” Dawn snaps. Dawn and Yolanda are childhood best friends, and Dawn is the only one who can talk to Yolanda that way and still have her job. Yolanda’s face pales as she walks closer to me, “You interacted with the King and made it out alive? Count your lucky stars.” Yolanda approaches me cautiously and I don’t realize all the stress is forcing tears to burn in my eyes. “That man is cold-blooded like a snake.” Despite the bile I balance in the back of my throat, I look Yolanda in the eye and shake my head, “No, he protected me. He knew my name.” “He knew your name because you have a name tag on your shirt.” Yolanda flicks my name tag and I look down at it, a pang of disappointment shivering through me. “Protect you?” Dawn questions, “You didn’t say anything about the King protecting you.” “That may be worse. A dangerous man like him may like you, want you.” Yolanda whispers. My eyes widened. My skin flushes as Yolanda and Dawn share a look with each other. The King knew my name. The King wants me. I remember the way he said boyfriend as if it was the most disgusting word on his tongue. But just as I spiral, Dawn and Yolanda break into laughter. “Girl, bless your heart! A man that fine wants you. You better be over the moon happy.” Dawn lightly hits her rag on my right arm, and I flinch, holding my breath. “I mean, those gray eyes are just delicious!” Kelsey chimes in. “Nope, it has to be black curly hair.” Those eyes, that hair remind me of Sirius. His eyes could be a storm with everyone else and clear with me. How a single curl always danced in the middle of his forehead, and I’d spend all day pushing it back. The days when he was my Sirius. The laughter snaps me out of my daze. “I bet he wakes up with his hair like that, just messy and perfect!” “Yolanda, I don’t know if you want to be him or sleep with him?” “Does it matter?” The entire kitchen erupts into laughter. “I would take him any way I could get him. He is so fine!” “So how did he look up close, Elise? A walking daydream, huh?” Kelsey leans over her pot, wiggling her eyebrows. I hide my head slightly, blush to creep up the apple of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I show the kitchen my glasses. “I broke my glasses. All I could see was tall, charming, and hot.” The entire kitchen boos. “You get close to the Mafia King, and your glasses break!” Dawn pouts, pushing me away, and I giggle for the first time in this entire situation. “Sorry, I can’t tell you how hot he is. You’re going to have to figure that out yourselves!” “Hey! Why is no one helping me out on the floor?” An upset waiter enters the kitchen looking around at us. “I’ll be right there, just let me get my contacts.” I head towards the break room and rummage inside my purse, revealing my contact lenses. I begin to replace my contacts, looking into the crappy workplace mirror, but once my vision is clear, all I can see is my missing earring. One of my silver earrings from Sirius, he got me for our last anniversary together. He’s already missing. I can lose the last thing he’s ever given me. I look over at the floor near my locker, but I know where it is. It’s in the VIP area. I turn on my heel towards the VIP area. The Mafia King's warning echoed in my mind, I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. It’s filled with the type of dangerous people, normal people shouldn’t be around.” I push his warning into the back of my mind. With a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs. I’ll be quick! In and out before anyone notices. As I enter the VIP area, I immediately fall to my knees, crawling around for the earring and hiding from the boisterous men laughing around the bar. I freeze when the King’s voice booms through the area, “You’re lucky I don’t collect your freaking head!” The music in the VIP clicks off. “Boss, it was just a girl!” The man snaps back and the entire area seems to hold their breath as the twinkle of something catches my eye. “A girl under my protection. The same way you are under my protection.” The King's voice is even and controlled again, “And don’t I always protect mine?” I contort my body, grabbing the dangled earring from underneath the couch. “Let me provide you with this small mercy. I promise you the alternative is lethal, and it would be a shame to murder you when you’re still useful to me.” The club music clicks back on as if nothing happened. I sit up on the floor, fixing the earring in my ear. When the footsteps descend towards me. I am not quick enough when I hear the humorless laughter of the handsy man, “You are the freaking pain of my existence. I’m on grunt duty because of you.” I look up, my eyes darting between him and the stairs. If I jump up and run. I should make it. I will make it. I propel myself off the floor, running towards the stairs, but the handsy man is quicker. He pulls me back by my hair, caging me in. My breath hitches as cold metal digs into my side. His breath gushes over my face in puffs thick with the scent of tobacco and gin. “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” Chapter 4 The Mafia King is My Ex? “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” His fingernails dig into my wrist, but I bite back any response watching his nostrils flare. “You got me suspended from duties because you rather spread your legs for the King than me.” He pulls me against him, snarling at my confident facade. I look down at the mark forming on my wrist, keeping my voice as even as possible, I say, “I do not want the King. I do not know the King.” He pushes me against the brick wall, and with my better judgment, I whimper, gripping the back of my head, “You dare lie to me? After all you have done, you freaking lie to me?” Spit sprays over my face, his eyes bulge out of his head as he holds me against the wall. The concrete dug into my skin. “Please,” I whisper. “Please?! Please! You purposefully lead me to the freaking slaughter, shaking your tight body for the king, begging him to punish me for your fault.” His wet breath drips down my face, and I look away towards the hallway leading to the King. I didn’t know the King. He did not need to come to my rescue, yet he did. Maybe the King liked me the way Dawn said, but what did it matter? I did not want him. “I am not sorry you were punished. I said no.” “Oh, so this is the little game we’re going to play? You say no, and mean yes.” A greedy, devious smile spread across the man's lips as if the idea of conquering me in such a manner excited him. “You little freaking tease.” His palm digs into my waist, and my eyes water over, straining to look down the hallway to the King. “No.” “You like causing trouble, huh? You like luring men in to watch them. ” I hear the click of his belt, a dooming sound. “You need to be taught a lesson, and I love punishing little girls with fresh mouths.” A voice and the click of a door opening cut the tension. “Boss, who even was she?” He pulls me into a corner. He pulls me in front of him and presses himself on me. His gun is tucked under my chin, and his arm is wrapped around my waist as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t make a freaking sound.” I watch the King walk down the hallway, most of his subjects a step or two behind him. The young member with dirty brown hair and colorful tattoos walks almost in step with him. The King’s voice almost sounds bored as he responds. “That is none of your concern, Taylor.” “You punished one of your own men for her. I think you owe us an explanation.” Taylor snaps, stopping the King in his steps. “Owe?” He slowly turns, and I can see the King’s face clearly through a sliver of light. The girls downstairs didn’t do him any justice. He was breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame, his white button-up exposed the tattoo in swirling patterns on his chest and up part of his neck. His curly black hair was gelled back into a style of sorts, but two unruly curls escaped and framed his face. His eyes swirled like a storm, erupting and flashing between the calming gray and black. He looked almost like a tortured angel. He almost looks like Sirius. “You think I owe you?” The King snarls at Taylor, who instantly turns pale. “N-no, I just mean-” “You just mean I should allow subordinates to run rampant to assault and pillage like average thugs.” “Sir it just seemed like you cared about the girl too much.” “What I choose to care and not care about is none of your freaking business, but Dan was punished for lying to me,” The King leans in closer, “ I was feeling gracious, so he was given a slap on the wrist, next time I will cut out his tongue. But my kindness has expired.” “King.” Desperation drips in the boy’s tone, but the King dismisses him with the flick of his wrist, and a man drags Taylor away. “Step foot in my territory again, and you will be destroyed on sight.” The King continues walking forward as if he did not send someone to their death, but the gasp that escapes my lips makes him pause. “Dan?” The handsy man behind me shifts, a grunt escaping his throat. Then a shot rang out, something sliced through the air, and Dan shrieked, falling to his knees. “I show you kindness, and this is how you repay me?” The King’s voice is deathly low as he approaches, and I dare not move. I dare not breathe. “The call girl freaking deserves it.” A low rumble of laughter escapes the King, lowering himself over a bleeding Dan. He pushes the barrel of the gun into the wound in his shoulder. “You are freaking mad, murdering innocents just because they won’t sleep with you?” The King pistol whips Dan into the floor, and a strangled sound fills the room. Dan spits onto the floor. “This is the thanks I get for letting you keep your life?” “My King, she seduced me-” The King grips him by the collar dragging him close. “You think it is wise to lie again?” Dan audibly swallows, a whimper escaping his lips. The King snaps his finger, and a buff, bald man with the word mercy over his knuckles comes up behind him. “Yes, boss?” “I want his tongue and right hand.” With a curt nod, the man grips Dan by his injured shoulder and drags him deeper into the VIP area. “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” The King looks in the direction of a weeping, sounding annoyed. I slowly at the King from the corner of my eye, my mouth completely dry and my hands feverishly shaking. The scars on the King’s face glitter in the low lighting making my stomach twist, so I focus on the silver, twisted ring on his ring finger. It looks almost like tree branches gripping his skin. “I-I left something here.” “What?” His empty grey eyes lock on me. “An earring.” A short grunt leaves his lips, “You risked your life for an earring?” “It’s sentimental.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes closer to the ring, recognizing the red ruby in the center of a rose, and I almost choke, drilling my eyes into his, “Sirius?!” Chapter 5 An Unexpected Reunion “Sirius?!” My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe, staring into his eyes, I know. I know it’s him. He turns to me a blank look on his face. The silence in the room creeps over me, and I slowly look around the room. Every mafia member is staring at me, with tension in their necks, awaiting the command of their king. I almost believe I’ve misspoken as I watch the King’s jaw click. “Elise.” “Oh my god!” I take a step back, looking him over. He looks just like he did in high school, but buffed up and toned, no longer lean and boyish. He’s a full man now. “When I told you to stay away from here, I meant it. Earring or not.” “These were…you cannot tell me what to do, Sirius.” He tilts his head to the side, looking me over. “You gave these to me…before you…” “I know, earring or not. Do not come back up here. Stay away from the mafia.” His voice is ice-cold and distant. He starts to walk away from me, and I almost leap out of my skin following him. “Do not speak to me like that, not after what you did. You abandoned me, and now you dismiss me.” “We both know what really happened back then, don’t act like you don’t know. Do not make me into some villain.” “No, but you are heartless. You leave without a word. You disappear, then you come back and ignore me as if we were nothing. As if you didn’t even—” My words get caught in my chest as if I am about to cry, but Sirius turns sharply towards me, heat rising in his eyes. “Once. I had a heart once, but now when I tell you to do something, you listen, Elise, and that’s final.” Sirius speaks lowly in my face, his voice feathers over me. “Now leave.” My eyes cannot help but flicker at his lips, but I immediately take a step back when he licks them. “No. Just because you say jump, d-does not mean I have to follow, Sirius.” I can hear the click of a gun, and Sirius doesn’t even move as he watches my actions. I raise my hands up and grit my teeth, “I guess you won’t even let me say thank you before murdering me, huh? ” “Lower your weapons, no one is allowed to point a gun at her ever.” I put my hands down slowly, my anger and grief swirling into panic as he turns to leave again. “If I mean so little to you, why are you still wearing your ring?” The branching ring with a single ruby was part of a promise ring set Sirius and I had brought when we were silly and in love. My ring is in my jewelry bag, hidden so Alston won’t find it and ask questions. “For sentimental reasons. I engraved it with something to remind me of the past.” He looks down at the ring longingly before snapping his eyes to my hands. “Where is your ring?” “I lost it years ago.” I don’t know why I lie or what I try to hide, but I know I can’t let him think anything can happen between us. He just nods sharply, not letting any emotions pass over his face. A throat clears in the background, and the tension in the room deflates slightly at the fakely bubbly voice of Mr. Thompson. He stands between Sirius and me a sharp look in his eyes. “Is everything okay here?” “Just a conversation,” Sirius responds evenly, his eyes not leaving mine. Mr.Thompson gives an empty chuckle, “Ah yes, I had to have a conversation with this employee multiple times. She is lazy. She constantly elicits complaints for her promiscuity and irresponsible nature.” He turns to me, hard eyes in his eyes, raising his voice, “Elise, I told you one more time.” “Mr.Thompson, this isn’t what it looks.” I begin, but he puts a hand in my face silencing me. “No, no, the time has come Elise you have embarrassed yourself in front of the King. You have constantly caused problems. You are the most terrible waitress I have ever had the displeasure of managing--” Sirius clocks his gun, placing the barrel against the back of Mr.Thompson’s head and he freezes. “No, no, continue your rant with a gun to your head.” “Sir, I was just firing insubordinate who was causing you trouble.” Mr.Thompson raises his hands up shakily. “Do you think of me as a damsel in need of saving, Thompson?” “Absolutely not sir.” “So why would I need you to come to my rescue?” “Sir, she has been a terrible employee, and I think--” “I do not care what you think. One more insult at her, and I am blowing your freaking brain across this room, understand?” Mr.Thompson nods slowly. “Good.” Sirius puts his gun away, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this what you do all day? Threaten people’s lives?” “No normally I am not protecting my ex-girlfriend.” Sirius tucks the gun in his waistband, shrugging at Elise. “Where even is he?” “What are you talking about, Sirius?” He walks closer to me a teasing smile on his lips. “Where is your boyfriend? Why is he not here to step in during every crisis, like I am?” Sirius stands a breath away from me, and from his tone, I can tell he is taunting me, that he wants a rise out of me. For a second, I want to smile at his boyish ways. His jealousy-fueled mockery reminds me of my Sirius. “My relationship with Alston has nothing to do with you!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dip to my chest, but his eyes narrow, looking at me just as quickly. “I thought you were dating my brother Lester?” “No, he is like a brother to me.” He chuckles. “It would destroy him to hear you say that.” “Why would you think I was with Lester?” “I never would have guessed Alston because he is such a good guy. Taking down major corporations, defending the little guy. I thought you liked your guys with a little edge to them.” Sirius shrugs, a carefree look in his eyes. “You used to be a good guy.” Sirius flashes his million-dollar smile that makes my knees weaken. “I was never a good guy, you just always saw the good in me.” Sirius’s voice is barely above a whisper, causing shivers down my spine. Alston was good. After Sirius went missing, Alston pursued me and when Lester was severely injured, Alston was the one who gathered most of the money for the medical expenses. His good deeds made me fall for him. He was always saving the day, and knowing that he was my personal superhero made me feel secure, supported, and loved. Most importantly, I never felt like he would abandon me. “I agreed to be his girlfriend because he makes me feel safe, Sirius, physically and emotionally.” Sirius’s eyes widen and the careless smile on his face fizzles out. I want to reach up and cup his face. I want to tell him that despite moving on he was my first, I have never been crazy, or foolish in love with anyone else. It’s only been him. “Thompson, leave.” Sirius doesn’t break eye contact with me as Mr.Thompson scurries to leave, but before he can make his grand escape, “I want your office cleared out by the morning.” “What?” Mr.Thompson slows, looking over his shoulder, shock across his face. “Elise will be the new owner, effective in the morning.” Simultaneously Mr.Thompson and I both look at Sirius as if he has lost his mind, screaming, “What? Why?” “Because Alston is not the only person who can make you feel safe, Elise.”	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449044422_1575931366327027_957907443075673983_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MbptDtJacUUQ7kNvgEK4b4r&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAVFux962JPNejdmTEiaapQFahNvLcI3bIXP9I9HcWl3A&oe=6707C0AD	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,143	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102139}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 A Messy Life and the Mafia Six months ago, I was a promising med student on the verge of all my dreams coming true, but now I’m just a waitress trying to start over in a new city. I know this restaurant I work at has ties to the infamous Onyx Mafia, but I didn’t have much choice—it's the best-paying job I could find. Besides, the scariest thing about working here isn’t the Mafia, it is the man at table eight flagging me down, obviously fuming. “What looks wrong here?” He snaps and I scan table eight's orders. Foie gras for the blonde in red, Peking duck for the pouty daughter—check. But the impatient bald man tapping his fingers? He got the risotto, not the ribeye currently in front of him. A cold sweat sweeps down my spine as I look between the squinting gaze of the man and the squiggles that are my handwriting. I still write like a surgeon, yet another reminder of my failed dreams. "Wait, I'm sorry... you ordered--" My hands tremble, and my heart sinks as I realize the kitchen couldn’t decipher my handwriting and just took a guess. Lucky me, their guess was wrong. "I-I think the kitchen--" Before I can finish my sentence, Jessica descends upon us like a vulture, risotto in hand. "Apologies for the inconvenience," she chimes in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Elise here is still learning the ropes." "I can tell," the man responds curtly, his attention entirely on Jessica, silently dismissing me. There goes my tip. "Sir, I noticed you’re drinking the 1984 Chateau. Let me send another round on the house for your troubles," Jessica offers breathlessly, her bosom on display as she leans in, her eyes batting just like they did back in high school. The man grunts in agreement as her fingers dig into my arm like talons. She whispers through clenched teeth, "Kitchen. Now." I bow my head obediently as I follow her into the chaos of the kitchen. When I moved here, I promised things were going to be different. I would be no one’s stepping stool, and yet here I am again, at the mercy of another girl who appears oblivious to the fact that we graduated high school. “Elise struck again, boys!” Tony, the sous chef, calls out, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. “What was it this time? Dropped another soup? Tripped and broke all the glasses?” In my defense, the soup incident happened because a man molested me, and Jessica tripped me while I was carrying glasses for an 18-person table. “Oh, tonight she gave one of our regulars the wrong meal.” “It’s the kitchen’s fault. I ordered a risotto, not a ribeye."I retort, pushing my glasses up as I glare at Jessica. “And who could tell with that chicken scratch handwriting?” Tony snorts. “Remember she wanted to be a surgeon,” Jessica sneers. “Doctors notoriously have terrible handwriting, but not waitresses.” The other kitchen staff snicker at her remark. They all think I went to med school and couldn’t cut it. But they don't know the truth, and it would be worse if they did. I take a deep breath, trying to push down my anger. "You were supposed to be a surgeon, marry Sirius, live your perfect little life," she snaps back, the mention of his name, Sirius, still a punch to the gut after all these years. I bite my lip to stifle the retort that threatens to spill from my lips and look down at my tennis shoes, a lump forming in my throat. I can still remember the feeling of the day he disappeared. I told everyone he loved me, that he would be back, and that he would never just leave me, but they were all right. He was gone. He didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t brave enough to say it to my face before disappearing. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again. It’d be a combination of running into his arms, waiting to see every bit of his life I missed, and kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. "But then you ended up at the bottom, where you’re meant to be." I hold my breath. I can’t show Jessica she’s getting to me. "Good thing Sirius came to his senses like we all knew he would," Jessica retorts. "Once he was done slumming it, he ran away from you as fast as possible. I mean, you practically ran him out of town." The lump in my throat swells as memories of his abandonment flood back, the pain still fresh. "You know what--" "Those better are words of gratitude, Elise, because I am two seconds away from firing you," Jessica interrupts, her smirk widening as she relishes in my discomfort. I swallow back my retort, facing Mr. Thompson, the restaurant manager. Mr. Thompson's stern gaze pierces through me as he approaches. "Elise, why do I have Mr. Kelsey asking for a free bottle of wine for his troubles?" "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." "You have been promising to do better for weeks, Elise. That is not enough anymore," he snaps. "I'll work harder, I swear," I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please." Mr. Thompson holds up a hand to silence me. "You've got one more chance, Elise, but you’re out of here if I hear one more complaint. Do you understand?" I nod frantically."Yes, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down. I promise." He scoffs, clearly unconvinced. "For the rest of your shift, you are exclusive to the VIPs upstairs," he continues, his tone stern. "They’re too drunk to notice your insolence." "Yes, sir," I whisper. "And you better be on your best behavior because the Mafia king is here," Mr. Thompson warns. "And if I don’t have your head, he will." I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, as I nod, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Mr. Thompson storms off into his office, leaving Jessica behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Looks like you're on thin ice, Elise," Jessica says, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Better watch your step." "Why? You’re going to trip me?" "I would never, but since you are exclusive to VIPs," Jessica hands me a tray of appetizers too heavy for me to hold without almost falling over. "Take this to table 19... the King’s subjects are there." I take a deep breath as I walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. But as I look up at the men sitting upstairs, a wave of dread washes over me, making me want to run in the opposite direction. They're overly comfortable, as if they own the place as if they own the world. And in a way, they do. The rumors swirling around the restaurant's ownership, whispers of connections to the mafia, suddenly feel all too real. Each step closer to the VIP room feels heavier, as if I am dragging myself closer. As I approach, the men’s eyes leering over me like predators sizing up their prey. The minute I set down the appetizers, a hand grips the back of my leg, sending a shiver down my spine. "Hey there, sweetheart," the man slurs, his breath reeking of booze as he pulls me into his lap. "Why don’t you clock out and hang with the big dogs?" I squirm, feeling his hand wander where it shouldn't."No. Stop it. I have to get back to work," I protest, trying to push him away. But he only laughs, his grip tightening as his friends jeer and egg him on. I squirm, feeling something hard poking me, I begin to panic. He hisses in excitement in my ear. “Yeah, baby, keep doing that.” I try to pull away, causing my glasses to go flying. Great, now I’m blind too. I struggle with my body, tears stinging as I attempt to slide out of his lap, “I need my glasses.” “You do not need glasses for what we are going to do.” He pinches my chin, leaning in as if he is going to kiss me, but the sound of a growling, cleared throat causes him to pause. Panic rises in my throat as I realize that none of these guys will help me and that going against the Mafia for some random waitress is a losing battle. "In my restaurant, we do not tolerate harassment of women," the voice declares, cutting through the VIP, firm and unwavering. The handsy man practically throws me onto the floor as he looks up at the gentleman standing in front of him. I turn to see, in my blurry haze, the silhouette of a man looming protectively over me, his presence exuding authority and strength. The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?” Chapter 2 Mafia King Knows Me？ “What, no!” I stand up, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man. “No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. “She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me. Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her bosoms and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear. “Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a call girl?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her alluring appeal. The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off. “I admire how they always seem to get their way.” Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but she is fully prepared to go much further than that. But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.” The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?” Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake bosoms to be a good call girl, but I see your point.” “It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense. “Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.” “No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly. “You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my hormonal drive? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.” “King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me. “You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.” “King, I’m sorry I-” “You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive. I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.” “They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-” “I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind. “Why are you working here?” I struggle back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are. In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.” The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.” “You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning. “I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command. “As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod. I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly. “Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?” “A great boyfriend. If that matters?” The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.” “What shot would I have after this if you ban her?” “None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.” His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name. Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him? Chapter 3 Rumors and Crisis I don’t breathe until the kitchen doors slam behind me. How does the Mafia King know my name, surely he knows all his employees' names. He may just be a great boss. Right, that’s it. The Mafia King is a great boss who would’ve thought? My breathing slows and I realize I’m so caught up in my thoughts I don’t feel the entire kitchen looking at me until Toni clears his throat. “Elise?” I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I don’t respond. Instead, Dawn, the pastry chef, approaches me with flour-covered hands. “Hey girly, are you okay? Did the King…hurt you?” I shake my hand no, a strangled breath releases from my lips, and Dawn sighs, squeezing my cheeks. “Good because the King has no right hurting a girl as innocent as you.” “Like that would’ve been his first time!” Kelsey, the saucier, laughs in the corner of the kitchen. “Kels, you’re not helping,” Dawn snaps, but Toni approaches us wickedly. “I heard his favorite way to murder is the bloody eagle.” “Toni!” I look at Dawn’s horrified face as she runs to cover my ears. “What's the bloody eagle?” I whisper. The dread I had swimming in my gut since the King first laid eyes on me bubbles to the surface. I feel like I could vomit. “All I’m going to say is ribs pulled through the back. If you want more details, do your research online.” I would not, but Kelsey laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. The King treats his subjects like their commodities, completely replaceable. He’s the youngest King ever, and you don’t get to be King in your twenties without a trail of blood behind you.” Kelsey points her ladle at us in warning, “So watch ya’ step, or the King will gut ya’ like a fish!” “Or hang your head above his fireplace, I heard the king loves a trophy, and a pretty head like yours would be perfect.” Toni swats at my hair and Dawn pushes him back to his station. “What is all this racket?! Kelsey you’re messing around and broke the sauce!” The Head Chef, Yolanda enters the kitchen with a stern look in her eyes, “And you! Why aren’t you running my plates?” “I-I…” I rub my hands back and forth, feeling the tension of being in trouble for the third time tonight. “She just had an interaction with the King. Leave her alone.” Dawn snaps. Dawn and Yolanda are childhood best friends, and Dawn is the only one who can talk to Yolanda that way and still have her job. Yolanda’s face pales as she walks closer to me, “You interacted with the King and made it out alive? Count your lucky stars.” Yolanda approaches me cautiously and I don’t realize all the stress is forcing tears to burn in my eyes. “That man is cold-blooded like a snake.” Despite the bile I balance in the back of my throat, I look Yolanda in the eye and shake my head, “No, he protected me. He knew my name.” “He knew your name because you have a name tag on your shirt.” Yolanda flicks my name tag and I look down at it, a pang of disappointment shivering through me. “Protect you?” Dawn questions, “You didn’t say anything about the King protecting you.” “That may be worse. A dangerous man like him may like you, want you.” Yolanda whispers. My eyes widened. My skin flushes as Yolanda and Dawn share a look with each other. The King knew my name. The King wants me. I remember the way he said boyfriend as if it was the most disgusting word on his tongue. But just as I spiral, Dawn and Yolanda break into laughter. “Girl, bless your heart! A man that fine wants you. You better be over the moon happy.” Dawn lightly hits her rag on my right arm, and I flinch, holding my breath. “I mean, those gray eyes are just delicious!” Kelsey chimes in. “Nope, it has to be black curly hair.” Those eyes, that hair remind me of Sirius. His eyes could be a storm with everyone else and clear with me. How a single curl always danced in the middle of his forehead, and I’d spend all day pushing it back. The days when he was my Sirius. The laughter snaps me out of my daze. “I bet he wakes up with his hair like that, just messy and perfect!” “Yolanda, I don’t know if you want to be him or sleep with him?” “Does it matter?” The entire kitchen erupts into laughter. “I would take him any way I could get him. He is so fine!” “So how did he look up close, Elise? A walking daydream, huh?” Kelsey leans over her pot, wiggling her eyebrows. I hide my head slightly, blush to creep up the apple of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I show the kitchen my glasses. “I broke my glasses. All I could see was tall, charming, and hot.” The entire kitchen boos. “You get close to the Mafia King, and your glasses break!” Dawn pouts, pushing me away, and I giggle for the first time in this entire situation. “Sorry, I can’t tell you how hot he is. You’re going to have to figure that out yourselves!” “Hey! Why is no one helping me out on the floor?” An upset waiter enters the kitchen looking around at us. “I’ll be right there, just let me get my contacts.” I head towards the break room and rummage inside my purse, revealing my contact lenses. I begin to replace my contacts, looking into the crappy workplace mirror, but once my vision is clear, all I can see is my missing earring. One of my silver earrings from Sirius, he got me for our last anniversary together. He’s already missing. I can lose the last thing he’s ever given me. I look over at the floor near my locker, but I know where it is. It’s in the VIP area. I turn on my heel towards the VIP area. The Mafia King's warning echoed in my mind, I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. It’s filled with the type of dangerous people, normal people shouldn’t be around.” I push his warning into the back of my mind. With a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs. I’ll be quick! In and out before anyone notices. As I enter the VIP area, I immediately fall to my knees, crawling around for the earring and hiding from the boisterous men laughing around the bar. I freeze when the King’s voice booms through the area, “You’re lucky I don’t collect your freaking head!” The music in the VIP clicks off. “Boss, it was just a girl!” The man snaps back and the entire area seems to hold their breath as the twinkle of something catches my eye. “A girl under my protection. The same way you are under my protection.” The King's voice is even and controlled again, “And don’t I always protect mine?” I contort my body, grabbing the dangled earring from underneath the couch. “Let me provide you with this small mercy. I promise you the alternative is lethal, and it would be a shame to murder you when you’re still useful to me.” The club music clicks back on as if nothing happened. I sit up on the floor, fixing the earring in my ear. When the footsteps descend towards me. I am not quick enough when I hear the humorless laughter of the handsy man, “You are the freaking pain of my existence. I’m on grunt duty because of you.” I look up, my eyes darting between him and the stairs. If I jump up and run. I should make it. I will make it. I propel myself off the floor, running towards the stairs, but the handsy man is quicker. He pulls me back by my hair, caging me in. My breath hitches as cold metal digs into my side. His breath gushes over my face in puffs thick with the scent of tobacco and gin. “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” Chapter 4 The Mafia King is My Ex? “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” His fingernails dig into my wrist, but I bite back any response watching his nostrils flare. “You got me suspended from duties because you rather spread your legs for the King than me.” He pulls me against him, snarling at my confident facade. I look down at the mark forming on my wrist, keeping my voice as even as possible, I say, “I do not want the King. I do not know the King.” He pushes me against the brick wall, and with my better judgment, I whimper, gripping the back of my head, “You dare lie to me? After all you have done, you freaking lie to me?” Spit sprays over my face, his eyes bulge out of his head as he holds me against the wall. The concrete dug into my skin. “Please,” I whisper. “Please?! Please! You purposefully lead me to the freaking slaughter, shaking your tight body for the king, begging him to punish me for your fault.” His wet breath drips down my face, and I look away towards the hallway leading to the King. I didn’t know the King. He did not need to come to my rescue, yet he did. Maybe the King liked me the way Dawn said, but what did it matter? I did not want him. “I am not sorry you were punished. I said no.” “Oh, so this is the little game we’re going to play? You say no, and mean yes.” A greedy, devious smile spread across the man's lips as if the idea of conquering me in such a manner excited him. “You little freaking tease.” His palm digs into my waist, and my eyes water over, straining to look down the hallway to the King. “No.” “You like causing trouble, huh? You like luring men in to watch them. ” I hear the click of his belt, a dooming sound. “You need to be taught a lesson, and I love punishing little girls with fresh mouths.” A voice and the click of a door opening cut the tension. “Boss, who even was she?” He pulls me into a corner. He pulls me in front of him and presses himself on me. His gun is tucked under my chin, and his arm is wrapped around my waist as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t make a freaking sound.” I watch the King walk down the hallway, most of his subjects a step or two behind him. The young member with dirty brown hair and colorful tattoos walks almost in step with him. The King’s voice almost sounds bored as he responds. “That is none of your concern, Taylor.” “You punished one of your own men for her. I think you owe us an explanation.” Taylor snaps, stopping the King in his steps. “Owe?” He slowly turns, and I can see the King’s face clearly through a sliver of light. The girls downstairs didn’t do him any justice. He was breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame, his white button-up exposed the tattoo in swirling patterns on his chest and up part of his neck. His curly black hair was gelled back into a style of sorts, but two unruly curls escaped and framed his face. His eyes swirled like a storm, erupting and flashing between the calming gray and black. He looked almost like a tortured angel. He almost looks like Sirius. “You think I owe you?” The King snarls at Taylor, who instantly turns pale. “N-no, I just mean-” “You just mean I should allow subordinates to run rampant to assault and pillage like average thugs.” “Sir it just seemed like you cared about the girl too much.” “What I choose to care and not care about is none of your freaking business, but Dan was punished for lying to me,” The King leans in closer, “ I was feeling gracious, so he was given a slap on the wrist, next time I will cut out his tongue. But my kindness has expired.” “King.” Desperation drips in the boy’s tone, but the King dismisses him with the flick of his wrist, and a man drags Taylor away. “Step foot in my territory again, and you will be destroyed on sight.” The King continues walking forward as if he did not send someone to their death, but the gasp that escapes my lips makes him pause. “Dan?” The handsy man behind me shifts, a grunt escaping his throat. Then a shot rang out, something sliced through the air, and Dan shrieked, falling to his knees. “I show you kindness, and this is how you repay me?” The King’s voice is deathly low as he approaches, and I dare not move. I dare not breathe. “The call girl freaking deserves it.” A low rumble of laughter escapes the King, lowering himself over a bleeding Dan. He pushes the barrel of the gun into the wound in his shoulder. “You are freaking mad, murdering innocents just because they won’t sleep with you?” The King pistol whips Dan into the floor, and a strangled sound fills the room. Dan spits onto the floor. “This is the thanks I get for letting you keep your life?” “My King, she seduced me-” The King grips him by the collar dragging him close. “You think it is wise to lie again?” Dan audibly swallows, a whimper escaping his lips. The King snaps his finger, and a buff, bald man with the word mercy over his knuckles comes up behind him. “Yes, boss?” “I want his tongue and right hand.” With a curt nod, the man grips Dan by his injured shoulder and drags him deeper into the VIP area. “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” The King looks in the direction of a weeping, sounding annoyed. I slowly at the King from the corner of my eye, my mouth completely dry and my hands feverishly shaking. The scars on the King’s face glitter in the low lighting making my stomach twist, so I focus on the silver, twisted ring on his ring finger. It looks almost like tree branches gripping his skin. “I-I left something here.” “What?” His empty grey eyes lock on me. “An earring.” A short grunt leaves his lips, “You risked your life for an earring?” “It’s sentimental.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes closer to the ring, recognizing the red ruby in the center of a rose, and I almost choke, drilling my eyes into his, “Sirius?!” Chapter 5 An Unexpected Reunion “Sirius?!” My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe, staring into his eyes, I know. I know it’s him. He turns to me a blank look on his face. The silence in the room creeps over me, and I slowly look around the room. Every mafia member is staring at me, with tension in their necks, awaiting the command of their king. I almost believe I’ve misspoken as I watch the King’s jaw click. “Elise.” “Oh my god!” I take a step back, looking him over. He looks just like he did in high school, but buffed up and toned, no longer lean and boyish. He’s a full man now. “When I told you to stay away from here, I meant it. Earring or not.” “These were…you cannot tell me what to do, Sirius.” He tilts his head to the side, looking me over. “You gave these to me…before you…” “I know, earring or not. Do not come back up here. Stay away from the mafia.” His voice is ice-cold and distant. He starts to walk away from me, and I almost leap out of my skin following him. “Do not speak to me like that, not after what you did. You abandoned me, and now you dismiss me.” “We both know what really happened back then, don’t act like you don’t know. Do not make me into some villain.” “No, but you are heartless. You leave without a word. You disappear, then you come back and ignore me as if we were nothing. As if you didn’t even—” My words get caught in my chest as if I am about to cry, but Sirius turns sharply towards me, heat rising in his eyes. “Once. I had a heart once, but now when I tell you to do something, you listen, Elise, and that’s final.” Sirius speaks lowly in my face, his voice feathers over me. “Now leave.” My eyes cannot help but flicker at his lips, but I immediately take a step back when he licks them. “No. Just because you say jump, d-does not mean I have to follow, Sirius.” I can hear the click of a gun, and Sirius doesn’t even move as he watches my actions. I raise my hands up and grit my teeth, “I guess you won’t even let me say thank you before murdering me, huh? ” “Lower your weapons, no one is allowed to point a gun at her ever.” I put my hands down slowly, my anger and grief swirling into panic as he turns to leave again. “If I mean so little to you, why are you still wearing your ring?” The branching ring with a single ruby was part of a promise ring set Sirius and I had brought when we were silly and in love. My ring is in my jewelry bag, hidden so Alston won’t find it and ask questions. “For sentimental reasons. I engraved it with something to remind me of the past.” He looks down at the ring longingly before snapping his eyes to my hands. “Where is your ring?” “I lost it years ago.” I don’t know why I lie or what I try to hide, but I know I can’t let him think anything can happen between us. He just nods sharply, not letting any emotions pass over his face. A throat clears in the background, and the tension in the room deflates slightly at the fakely bubbly voice of Mr. Thompson. He stands between Sirius and me a sharp look in his eyes. “Is everything okay here?” “Just a conversation,” Sirius responds evenly, his eyes not leaving mine. Mr.Thompson gives an empty chuckle, “Ah yes, I had to have a conversation with this employee multiple times. She is lazy. She constantly elicits complaints for her promiscuity and irresponsible nature.” He turns to me, hard eyes in his eyes, raising his voice, “Elise, I told you one more time.” “Mr.Thompson, this isn’t what it looks.” I begin, but he puts a hand in my face silencing me. “No, no, the time has come Elise you have embarrassed yourself in front of the King. You have constantly caused problems. You are the most terrible waitress I have ever had the displeasure of managing--” Sirius clocks his gun, placing the barrel against the back of Mr.Thompson’s head and he freezes. “No, no, continue your rant with a gun to your head.” “Sir, I was just firing insubordinate who was causing you trouble.” Mr.Thompson raises his hands up shakily. “Do you think of me as a damsel in need of saving, Thompson?” “Absolutely not sir.” “So why would I need you to come to my rescue?” “Sir, she has been a terrible employee, and I think--” “I do not care what you think. One more insult at her, and I am blowing your freaking brain across this room, understand?” Mr.Thompson nods slowly. “Good.” Sirius puts his gun away, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this what you do all day? Threaten people’s lives?” “No normally I am not protecting my ex-girlfriend.” Sirius tucks the gun in his waistband, shrugging at Elise. “Where even is he?” “What are you talking about, Sirius?” He walks closer to me a teasing smile on his lips. “Where is your boyfriend? Why is he not here to step in during every crisis, like I am?” Sirius stands a breath away from me, and from his tone, I can tell he is taunting me, that he wants a rise out of me. For a second, I want to smile at his boyish ways. His jealousy-fueled mockery reminds me of my Sirius. “My relationship with Alston has nothing to do with you!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dip to my chest, but his eyes narrow, looking at me just as quickly. “I thought you were dating my brother Lester?” “No, he is like a brother to me.” He chuckles. “It would destroy him to hear you say that.” “Why would you think I was with Lester?” “I never would have guessed Alston because he is such a good guy. Taking down major corporations, defending the little guy. I thought you liked your guys with a little edge to them.” Sirius shrugs, a carefree look in his eyes. “You used to be a good guy.” Sirius flashes his million-dollar smile that makes my knees weaken. “I was never a good guy, you just always saw the good in me.” Sirius’s voice is barely above a whisper, causing shivers down my spine. Alston was good. After Sirius went missing, Alston pursued me and when Lester was severely injured, Alston was the one who gathered most of the money for the medical expenses. His good deeds made me fall for him. He was always saving the day, and knowing that he was my personal superhero made me feel secure, supported, and loved. Most importantly, I never felt like he would abandon me. “I agreed to be his girlfriend because he makes me feel safe, Sirius, physically and emotionally.” Sirius’s eyes widen and the careless smile on his face fizzles out. I want to reach up and cup his face. I want to tell him that despite moving on he was my first, I have never been crazy, or foolish in love with anyone else. It’s only been him. “Thompson, leave.” Sirius doesn’t break eye contact with me as Mr.Thompson scurries to leave, but before he can make his grand escape, “I want your office cleared out by the morning.” “What?” Mr.Thompson slows, looking over his shoulder, shock across his face. “Elise will be the new owner, effective in the morning.” Simultaneously Mr.Thompson and I both look at Sirius as if he has lost his mind, screaming, “What? Why?” “Because Alston is not the only person who can make you feel safe, Elise.”	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449044422_1575931366327027_957907443075673983_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MbptDtJacUUQ7kNvgEK4b4r&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAVFux962JPNejdmTEiaapQFahNvLcI3bIXP9I9HcWl3A&oe=6707C0AD	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,150	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101639}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	At Grace Mansion, Carissa Sinclair stared at the man before her—her husband she had waited for a whole year. Barrett Warren, still in his battle armor, wore an expression of both determination and guilt. "Carissa, the king has issued a royal edict for my marriage with Aurora. She will be joining our household. There's no question about it," said Barrett. Carissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "The queen dowager has praised General Yates as a model for all women in the kingdom. Would she be willing to be a concubine?" Barrett's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "No, she won’t be a concubine. She’ll be my legal wife, equal to you." "But calling her equal doesn't change the fact that she’s still just a concubine," Carissa said, a soft smile playing on her lips. Barrett frowned. "Why can't you face the reality? Aurora and I fell in love with each other on the battlefield, and we earned this marriage with our glorified victory. In fact, I don’t really need your approval on it." Carissa smiled mockingly. "Fell in love, huh? Have you forgot what you promised me before you left for war?" On their wedding night a year ago, Barrett was called away to lead reinforcements on an expedition. Before he left, he lifted his wife’s veil and vowed, "Carrisa Sinclair, you're the only woman I'll ever love in my life. I will never take a concubine!" Embarrassed, Barrett avoided her eye contact. "Just forget what I said. Back then, I only considered you a suitable match for a wife. I knew nothing about love until I met Rory." When he spoke of the woman he loved, his eyes softened with deep affection. Turning back to Carissa, he added, "She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I love her deeply, and I hope you'll be generous enough to welcome her." Carissa felt a lump in her throat. Despite her disgust and reluctance, she asked, "What about your parents? Do they agree?" "They do. It was a royal edict, and mother liked her a lot upon seeing her." They agreed? Huh... How ironic! Seems like everything Carissa had done for this household had all been for nothing. "Is she currently in the mansion?" Carissa asked, lifting a brow. Barrett carried a softness in his voice, "Yes, she’s talking to my mother and making her very happy. Even mother's health seems to be improving." "Improving?" Carissa felt a whirlwind of emotions. "When you went to war, your mother was already gravely ill. I brought in the best physician, managed the estate’s affairs by day, and stayed up nights caring for her. That's how her condition started to improve." Carissa wasn’t seeking praise. She was just laying out the facts of her exhausting year. "But seeing Aurora has made my mother feel even better," Barrett said earnestly. "I know this is unfair to you, but for the greater good, please support Aurora and me." Carissa lowered her eyes, as if blinking away the tears. But inspected closely, that's actually her sharpened gaze. "Invite General Yates over. I have a few things to ask her." "There's no need," Barrett refused instantly. "Carissa, she’s different from any woman you know. As a general, she’s above household squabbles and wouldn’t want to meet you." Carissa retorted, "What are women I know like? Or tell me, what kind of woman am I to you? Have you forgotten? I'm also the daughter of the Marquis's family. My father and my six brothers sacrificed on the Southern Frontier three years ago-" "That’s them," Barrett interrupted. "you're still a delicate woman suited only for home comforts, while Aurora has no respect for that. Besides, she never holds back her true thoughts. Trust me, you won't want to hear it from her." As Carissa looked up, the striking beauty mark under her eye became more evident in the light. Calmly, she said, "It’s fine. If she says anything unpleasant, I’ll ignore it. A true matriarch must understand the bigger picture and act with dignity. Don’t you trust me?" Barrett sighed in frustration. “Why put yourself through this? The king has approved this marriage, and Aurora will never threaten your control of the household. Carissa, she couldn't care less about those things.” “Oh, you think that's what I fear? Losing the control of this household?” Carissa countered. Little did Barrett know his household had been reduced to a hollow shell - managing it was a hot potato no one else would bear. Over the past year, it was Carissa's dowry alone that kept the Warren family’s life respectable, and this was her reward. “Enough,” Barrett snapped, his patience running thin. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. Your opinion won’t change anything.” As Carissa watched hum storm out, her bitterness deepened. “My lady, my lord has really crossed the line!” Lulu, Carissa’s maid, said, wiping her tears. “Don’t call him that!” Carissa gave her a stern look. “We never consummated the marriage. He’s not your lord. Now go fetch my dowry list.” “Why the dowry list?” Lulu asked, puzzled. Carissa tapped her on the forehead. “Silly girl, we need to reckon everything before we leave.” Lulu gasped. “Leave? But where can we go? To the Northwatch Estate?” Suddenly Lulu held her tongue, aware that she had touched the sensitive subject. She spared Carissa a guilty look, "I'll get the list now, my lady." Upon the mention of Northwatch Estate, the always restrained Carissa finally let her tears fall. When she was fifteen, her father, the Marquis of Northwatch, had sacrificed his life on the battlefield. Then, just six months ago, her entire family at the Northwatch Estate was brutally slaughtered — assassins rumored to be spies from the enemy nation, Westhaven. She rushed back after getting the news, only to find the dismembered bodies of her mother and grandmother. Even her youngest nephew, two years old, didn't escape death, neither. Now, she was the lone survivor of the marquis' family, the idea of restoring her family’s former glory seemed impossible—at least to outsiders. After all, she was presented mostly as a delicate, fragile woman, while Aurora Taytes had just made herself the first female general in history. It's only natural that the Warren family was more than happy to agree to the marriage. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, Carissa's martial talent was never beneath her father and brothers. If given a chance on the battlefield, she would definitely outshine Aurora Taytes, perhaps a million times more... Just then, Lulu had brought over the dowry list, "My lady, this year alone, you've spent over six thousand silver coins supporting the household. However, the shops, houses, and estates remain untouched. All the bank savings, along with the property deeds and land titles your mother left, are locked up in the chest." "I see." Carisse's gaze lingered on the list with melancholy. Her mother had given her such a substantial dowry, fearing she might face hardship in her husband's home. Yet now here she was. The Warren family had disregarded all her effort, and Barrett had even broken his vow to take no concubine - the very promise that led her mother to choose him over more eligible suitors, despite the Warren family’s fall from grace. 'Was this really the life mother wanted me to have?' It took Carissa no time to made up her mind. “Lulu, get prepared. There's somewhere we need to go tomorrow.” ... Early the next morning, Carissa and Lulu boarded a carriage, heading straight for the royal palace. It was noon by the time they arrived. Under the scorching autumn sun, Carissa and Lulu stood like statues in front of the palace gates. They waited for a full hour, but no one came to let them in. In the palace's study, Derek Walker had already reported Carissa’s arrival to the king three times. “Your Majesty, Mrs. Warren is still waiting outside the palace gates,” he repeated. The king, Salvador Quinton, set aside the document he was reading and rubbed his temples. “I can’t summon her in. The edict has been issued, and can't be taken back. Tell her to go home.” “The guards tried to persuade her, but she refused to leave. She’s been standing there for over an hour without moving.” Salvador felt a pang of guilt. “Barrett requested the marriage as a reward for his military service. I didn’t want to agree, either, but not granting it would embarrass both him and General Yates. They have after all won a big war.” “Your Majesty, when it comes to military achievements, no one can compare to the Marquis of Northwatch,” Derek countered. Salvador thought of Hector Sinclair, the Marquis of Northwatch. When Salvador was a crown prince who had recently joined the military, it was Hector who had guided him. Back then, he had also known Carissa when she was only a cute kid. Salvador himself had fought a bloody path to the throne, paved with death. He understood the struggles of military officers, so when Barrett requested marriage as a reward, Salvador had hesitated but eventually agreed. But Derek was right. In terms of military merit, Barrett and Aurora were far inferior to Hector Sinclair. “Alright, let her in. If she agrees to this marriage, I’ll grant her whatever she wants, even if it's a noble title or an official rank,” said Salvador. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “As always, you're wise, Your Majesty!” ... Carissa knelt in the study with her head bowed. Recalling that Carissa was now the only one left the Sinclair family, Salvador felt nothing but pity for her. "Rise and speak," he commanded. Carissa bowed deeply with her hands clasped. "Your Majesty, I know it's presumptuous of me to seek an audience today. But I also wish to implore for your grace." "Carissa Sinclair, I have already issued the edict of marriage. It's impossible to revoke it," Salvador said. Carissa shook her head gently. "Your Majesty, I'm not imploring you to reverse that edict, but imploring you for another edict - an amicable divorce with General Warren." The young king was taken aback. "Divorce? You want a divorce?" Carissa nodded her head firmly. She was never someone to pester some man. If Barret Warren loved Aurora Yates so much, then she would let him go. What she needed now was a single edict for an amicable divorce, so she could take away all her dowery and get rid of the despicable Warren family for good, dignified and head high...	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	168	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	shgjfh.com	DCO		https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/461342866_403665495877678_8039372569247806790_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=H6Bkc62YVmkQ7kNvgHtMIMV&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAvtxUF6dGku3Rht2QvTRkAXX_nekhQIz7Gl00siVEmqA&oe=6707A9B5	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,148	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2102145}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	Neah "Where is she?" I hear the Beta scream. I groan and rise to my feet, grabbing the cleaning basket before heading over. The moment Beta Kyle sees me, he strides towards me and his hand slices against my cheek. I don't make a sound. Years of experience has taught me to keep my mouth shut at all times. "Alpha Trey and I are expecting company and you still have not cleaned the office." Beta Kyle spits at me. I nod my head and my hand tightens on the cleaning basket. If only I could find the courage to swing it at his head, it would make my day. But I didn't need another week locked up with no food. My stomach already hurt enough. "We are trying to make a good impression on Alpha Dane. Don't you understand how important it is for us to join ourselves with his pack?!" I don't answer, It's a trap, a ploy to provoke me into saying something that would justify punishment. I keep my eyes lowered, avoiding his gaze. Alpha Dane, I had only ever heard rumours about him. He was a ruthless man, a Wolf feared by others. He didn't mess around and he had the largest pack. "He is the Alpha of Black Shadow, the biggest pack in the world, we need him!" We had never been attacked and we had never attacked anyone, so why did we need another pack to help us? He grabs my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin as he turns me around and kicks me into the office. "Useless Wolf." He mutters as he moves away. Quietly closing the door, I lean against it, observing the already clean office. It looked perfectly fine for a meeting with this so-called powerful Alpha. Closing my eyes, I slide down to the floor. I hated this house. I thought that when I turned eighteen, I could finally escape, but four years later, here I still am, a slave in my own home. Doing all the dirty tasks for my brother, Alpha Trey and the pack. While my ex mate, Beta Kyle waltzes around reminding me of how worthless I am. Someone clears their throat and I freeze, I thought I was alone. Leaning forward, I see a handsome man sitting in a chair, just around the corner. A foot propped up on his knee as he nurses a glass of alcohol. His short hair is dark and his eyes are a deep crimson colour, that don't quite look right. They suddenly shift to me and I throw myself back against the door as my heart pounded. "Is this the way you greet all Alphas?" His deep voice rumbles through the room, there was an edge of amusement to his tone. "I'm sorry." I whisper, getting to my feet. "I...I thought I was alone." I had no idea who he was but I could feel the power radiating off of him, even without my Wolf. "Come forward." He orders and I already feel a lump forming in my throat. Alpha Trey wil kill me. I step around the corner, doing as I'm told, allowing him to see me properly. I close my eyes, expecting the worst. "You smell funny. Yet you are a Wolf, correct?" I nod, though I couldn't tell how he was going to react. Most laughed when they found out about me. "I would prefer it if you spoke to me." He growls, "I'm not in the mood to play games." "Yes." I whisper. I couldn't help but think of all the punishments I was going to have to endure. A whipping maybe? Starvation for another week? "Why do you smell strange? And how is it possible for you to not know I was in the room? You should have scented me." "I..." I hated the question. "You should open your eyes when you are talking to someone. It's rude to not look at them. Has your Alpha not taught you anything?" His deep voice sends a shiver through me. Slowly, I open my eyes and lower them, there was no way I was making eye contact."My Wolf abilities were bound," I mutter. Twice, I wanted to add. Twice my abilities were bound. But he probably wasn't interested in that part. He leans forward, I could feel him staring at me, "Why would someone do that?" If this is the Alpha that my brother is supposed to be meeting with, I knew I could screw everything up for him by saying too much. "It was a punishment." I whisper. It wasn't far from the entire truth. There's a twitch in his cheek. Was he angry to hear of such a punishment? Or maybe, just like the others, he was amused by it. I couldn't tell. The door swings open and my brother screeches at me "Neah, what are you doing in my office?" He turns to the crimson eyed man. "I am so sorry that my sister is bothering you, Alpha Dane." Crap, it's him. My brother spins around, hand poised to hit me. I close my eyes, bracing myself, ready to feel the burn. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."Peeking through slits, I see Alpha Dane has risen to his feet, his hand coiled around my brother's wrist. He is taller than my brother, more muscly too. "Neah," My name rolls off of his tongue, "was kindly showing me to your office, Alpha Trey, as you failed to meet me at the front of your house like I requested." What? I had no idea what he was talking about. And he had no reason to lie for me. My brother glares at me, clenching his jaw tight. "Go and get Beta Kyle." Alpha Trey seethes. "Tell him our guest is here." I nod my head and hurry from the room, the last thing I wanted was to be caught between bickering men. "Beta Kyle," I whisper as I enter the dining hall. He instantly glares at me with his dark eyes. I had spoken without being spoken to. "Alpha Trey is in the office with Alpha Dane. I was sent to inform you." He slams the newspaper down on the table and glares at me as he walks by. "You're lucky that the Alpha sent you to get me, otherwise you wouldn't see sunlight for a few days." Pausing behind me, he yanks my head back, locking his fingers in my hair, leaning in close to me, I feel his hot breath on my skin. He doesn't speak, it was just his way of proving that he could do what he wants when he wants. I try to keep myself busy so I can stay as far away from the office as possible. My peace doesn't last long when I hear my brother calling out to me. Quietly, I pad towards the office and plaster a smile on my face as I open the door. "Neah, go get the champagne and some glasses, we are celebrating." I bow my head and hurry to the drinks cabinet. Quickly finding what my brother has asked for. As I re-enter the office, I can feel Alpha Dane watching my every move, even the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. No one ever watches me this closely. "Neah is your sister, correct?" Alpha Dane questions my brother. "She is." Alpha Trey mutters with disgust. He looks away from me to focus on the man asking questions. "Why do you treat her like trash?" Straight to the point, my brother wouldn't like that. He only liked sharing information on his terms. No one had spoken to my brother about his treatment of me because everyone took great joy in beating me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move but I knew I had to get out of there. If this deal goes to pot because of me, then that would be my fault too. "Neah was responsible for our parents' death." Alpha Trey spits I closed my eyes, battling back the tears that were threatening to break free. "Responsible how?" Alpha Dane's voice rumbles through me. He was definitely angry. "She served them Wolfsbane." Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound. I knew Alpha Dane was studying me. They all did, no one could ever quite believe how someone could do something so disgusting as poisoning their own parents. I stood there, with my head hanging low, wishing for the ground to open up and suck me in. There are movements around me. He was standing directly in front of me. With a rough finger he tilts my face up towards his, forcing me to look at him. "You poisoned your parents?" "I was six." I splutter. "I just made them lemonade." My voice comes out all squeaky as I try to defend myself. I could barely remember my parents, but I could remember all the guilt I had been made to feel since that day. His crimson eyes flash to my brothers. "Hardly seems fair to blame a six year old." "A six year old should know the difference between plants." Alpha Trey snaps "Sounds to me like she was set up." Alpha Dane shrugs his shoulders, letting go of me. "You weren't there, Alpha Dane." My brother muttered through gritted teeth as his eyes narrowed to slits. "I didn't ask you here to talk about my slave!" Alpha Dane grabs his leather jacket from the chair. Unlike other Alpha's he seemed to dress more casually. A simple black tee and jeans covered his huge frame. And unlike other Alpha's, his arms are bare of tattoos, not a single bit of ink poked out anywhere. "You're right and now I have a few things to mull over." "I thought we agreed." My brother exclaims "Nothing has been signed. Now I will show myself out." The moment he is out of the office, both my brother and Beta Kyle round on me. "What the heck did you say to him?" My brother demands, slamming a hand into my stomach. "N...nothing. Well, he just asked me why I smelled funny." "Did you tell him?" Beta Kyle demands. He was practically spitting in my face. I hated him. I hated him so much that I had vowed to one day get my revenge and rip his stomach out through his mouth. "WELL?" My brother yells when I don't immediately respond and smacks me across the side of the head. My head involuntarily moves up and down. "But I didn't say it was you." I tried to sound strong and confident but it just comes out as a whisper. My brother's hand locks into my black hair as he yanks my head back, sending a shooting pain through my skull. "If you have ruined this, you won't see daylight again." He drags me by my hair from the office and down the hallway towards the basement door. "Please…." I beg. "He was an Alpha…I… I had to answer him." My cheeks burn with my tears as he flings the door open. On the other side of the door is Alpha Dane. He is leaning against the wall with his arms folded, staring out at us. My brother's hand falls from my hair, relieving the pressure on the back of my skull... "Alpha Dane, I thought you had left." Alpha Trey murmurs angrily. "I said I would show myself out. I thought I had found the door, but instead I find a basement, riddled in your sister's strange scent. Is this how you treat your family?" "As I said," my brother holds his ground, "She is responsible for the death of my parents, so yes, this is what she deserves." "You should keep your nose out of other packs' business!" Beta Kyle adds. Alpha Dane laughs. "If I agree to this deal, everything about your business becomes my business. So tell me, what would your punishment be for her? No food, locked away for a week, beatings?" Both Alpha Trey and Beta Kyle hold their tongues. There was no reason for him to defend me and yet he was. I was a nobody, no one special. Just who everyone called a traitor. Only instead of being given a death sentence, my brother had decided to make me spend my life suffering. I see those crimson eyes land on my swollen face. "I have a proposition for you, Alpha Trey." Alpha Dane speaks up again. "We have already agreed on terms." "Well, I'm adding one. And if you don't agree, you will not get my help. Instead, you will become my enemy. And we both know, you don't want that." "I take it that your new terms have something to do with her?" Alpha Trey mutters through clenched teeth. "You would be correct. Let me take her away to my pack and then you, Trey will have a deal." Me? Why would he want me? As my brother and his Beta discuss me, Alpha Dane is still studying me. His look made me nervous. What could someone like him possibly want with me? "Deal." Alpha Trey sticks out his hand for Alpha Dane to shake. He doesn't take it, instead his crimson eyes shift from me to my brother. "I will have paperwork drawn up and will return tomorrow." He reaches a hand out and cups my face, "Ensure you have everything packed." He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and strides to the opposite end of the hallway and straight to the front door. He knew exactly where the front door was, so what was he up to? He pauses at the door. "If I find out any one of you has laid a hand on her. The contract will be the last thing you need to worry about." He struts out, slamming the door behind him. After Dane leaves, my brother grabs me by the collar. "You think you're going to have a good life if you follow Alpha Dane out of here? Don't be naive!" He continues in a vicious voice. "He's the coldest man in the world, he's killed nine of his mates, I'm waiting to see what happens to you!"	LEARN_MORE	https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783&	New world publications	https://www.facebook.com/100090352943774/	3,708	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	wwwedb.com	DCO		https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/452954248_488548254128302_3071179802578548433_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=1Sg_L0U5nBMQ7kNvgFR8bo6&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYCBOCog4BlVYnprNYPUFVJFkXBvM6sp0g2TDSdKQFfsfw&oe=6707BC13	PERSON_PROFILE	New world publications	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,153	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101639}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	At Grace Mansion, Carissa Sinclair stared at the man before her—her husband she had waited for a whole year. Barrett Warren, still in his battle armor, wore an expression of both determination and guilt. "Carissa, the king has issued a royal edict for my marriage with Aurora. She will be joining our household. There's no question about it," said Barrett. Carissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "The queen dowager has praised General Yates as a model for all women in the kingdom. Would she be willing to be a concubine?" Barrett's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "No, she won’t be a concubine. She’ll be my legal wife, equal to you." "But calling her equal doesn't change the fact that she’s still just a concubine," Carissa said, a soft smile playing on her lips. Barrett frowned. "Why can't you face the reality? Aurora and I fell in love with each other on the battlefield, and we earned this marriage with our glorified victory. In fact, I don’t really need your approval on it." Carissa smiled mockingly. "Fell in love, huh? Have you forgot what you promised me before you left for war?" On their wedding night a year ago, Barrett was called away to lead reinforcements on an expedition. Before he left, he lifted his wife’s veil and vowed, "Carrisa Sinclair, you're the only woman I'll ever love in my life. I will never take a concubine!" Embarrassed, Barrett avoided her eye contact. "Just forget what I said. Back then, I only considered you a suitable match for a wife. I knew nothing about love until I met Rory." When he spoke of the woman he loved, his eyes softened with deep affection. Turning back to Carissa, he added, "She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I love her deeply, and I hope you'll be generous enough to welcome her." Carissa felt a lump in her throat. Despite her disgust and reluctance, she asked, "What about your parents? Do they agree?" "They do. It was a royal edict, and mother liked her a lot upon seeing her." They agreed? Huh... How ironic! Seems like everything Carissa had done for this household had all been for nothing. "Is she currently in the mansion?" Carissa asked, lifting a brow. Barrett carried a softness in his voice, "Yes, she’s talking to my mother and making her very happy. Even mother's health seems to be improving." "Improving?" Carissa felt a whirlwind of emotions. "When you went to war, your mother was already gravely ill. I brought in the best physician, managed the estate’s affairs by day, and stayed up nights caring for her. That's how her condition started to improve." Carissa wasn’t seeking praise. She was just laying out the facts of her exhausting year. "But seeing Aurora has made my mother feel even better," Barrett said earnestly. "I know this is unfair to you, but for the greater good, please support Aurora and me." Carissa lowered her eyes, as if blinking away the tears. But inspected closely, that's actually her sharpened gaze. "Invite General Yates over. I have a few things to ask her." "There's no need," Barrett refused instantly. "Carissa, she’s different from any woman you know. As a general, she’s above household squabbles and wouldn’t want to meet you." Carissa retorted, "What are women I know like? Or tell me, what kind of woman am I to you? Have you forgotten? I'm also the daughter of the Marquis's family. My father and my six brothers sacrificed on the Southern Frontier three years ago-" "That’s them," Barrett interrupted. "you're still a delicate woman suited only for home comforts, while Aurora has no respect for that. Besides, she never holds back her true thoughts. Trust me, you won't want to hear it from her." As Carissa looked up, the striking beauty mark under her eye became more evident in the light. Calmly, she said, "It’s fine. If she says anything unpleasant, I’ll ignore it. A true matriarch must understand the bigger picture and act with dignity. Don’t you trust me?" Barrett sighed in frustration. “Why put yourself through this? The king has approved this marriage, and Aurora will never threaten your control of the household. Carissa, she couldn't care less about those things.” “Oh, you think that's what I fear? Losing the control of this household?” Carissa countered. Little did Barrett know his household had been reduced to a hollow shell - managing it was a hot potato no one else would bear. Over the past year, it was Carissa's dowry alone that kept the Warren family’s life respectable, and this was her reward. “Enough,” Barrett snapped, his patience running thin. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. Your opinion won’t change anything.” As Carissa watched hum storm out, her bitterness deepened. “My lady, my lord has really crossed the line!” Lulu, Carissa’s maid, said, wiping her tears. “Don’t call him that!” Carissa gave her a stern look. “We never consummated the marriage. He’s not your lord. Now go fetch my dowry list.” “Why the dowry list?” Lulu asked, puzzled. Carissa tapped her on the forehead. “Silly girl, we need to reckon everything before we leave.” Lulu gasped. “Leave? But where can we go? To the Northwatch Estate?” Suddenly Lulu held her tongue, aware that she had touched the sensitive subject. She spared Carissa a guilty look, "I'll get the list now, my lady." Upon the mention of Northwatch Estate, the always restrained Carissa finally let her tears fall. When she was fifteen, her father, the Marquis of Northwatch, had sacrificed his life on the battlefield. Then, just six months ago, her entire family at the Northwatch Estate was brutally slaughtered — assassins rumored to be spies from the enemy nation, Westhaven. She rushed back after getting the news, only to find the dismembered bodies of her mother and grandmother. Even her youngest nephew, two years old, didn't escape death, neither. Now, she was the lone survivor of the marquis' family, the idea of restoring her family’s former glory seemed impossible—at least to outsiders. After all, she was presented mostly as a delicate, fragile woman, while Aurora Taytes had just made herself the first female general in history. It's only natural that the Warren family was more than happy to agree to the marriage. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, Carissa's martial talent was never beneath her father and brothers. If given a chance on the battlefield, she would definitely outshine Aurora Taytes, perhaps a million times more... Just then, Lulu had brought over the dowry list, "My lady, this year alone, you've spent over six thousand silver coins supporting the household. However, the shops, houses, and estates remain untouched. All the bank savings, along with the property deeds and land titles your mother left, are locked up in the chest." "I see." Carisse's gaze lingered on the list with melancholy. Her mother had given her such a substantial dowry, fearing she might face hardship in her husband's home. Yet now here she was. The Warren family had disregarded all her effort, and Barrett had even broken his vow to take no concubine - the very promise that led her mother to choose him over more eligible suitors, despite the Warren family’s fall from grace. 'Was this really the life mother wanted me to have?' It took Carissa no time to made up her mind. “Lulu, get prepared. There's somewhere we need to go tomorrow.” ... Early the next morning, Carissa and Lulu boarded a carriage, heading straight for the royal palace. It was noon by the time they arrived. Under the scorching autumn sun, Carissa and Lulu stood like statues in front of the palace gates. They waited for a full hour, but no one came to let them in. In the palace's study, Derek Walker had already reported Carissa’s arrival to the king three times. “Your Majesty, Mrs. Warren is still waiting outside the palace gates,” he repeated. The king, Salvador Quinton, set aside the document he was reading and rubbed his temples. “I can’t summon her in. The edict has been issued, and can't be taken back. Tell her to go home.” “The guards tried to persuade her, but she refused to leave. She’s been standing there for over an hour without moving.” Salvador felt a pang of guilt. “Barrett requested the marriage as a reward for his military service. I didn’t want to agree, either, but not granting it would embarrass both him and General Yates. They have after all won a big war.” “Your Majesty, when it comes to military achievements, no one can compare to the Marquis of Northwatch,” Derek countered. Salvador thought of Hector Sinclair, the Marquis of Northwatch. When Salvador was a crown prince who had recently joined the military, it was Hector who had guided him. Back then, he had also known Carissa when she was only a cute kid. Salvador himself had fought a bloody path to the throne, paved with death. He understood the struggles of military officers, so when Barrett requested marriage as a reward, Salvador had hesitated but eventually agreed. But Derek was right. In terms of military merit, Barrett and Aurora were far inferior to Hector Sinclair. “Alright, let her in. If she agrees to this marriage, I’ll grant her whatever she wants, even if it's a noble title or an official rank,” said Salvador. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “As always, you're wise, Your Majesty!” ... Carissa knelt in the study with her head bowed. Recalling that Carissa was now the only one left the Sinclair family, Salvador felt nothing but pity for her. "Rise and speak," he commanded. Carissa bowed deeply with her hands clasped. "Your Majesty, I know it's presumptuous of me to seek an audience today. But I also wish to implore for your grace." "Carissa Sinclair, I have already issued the edict of marriage. It's impossible to revoke it," Salvador said. Carissa shook her head gently. "Your Majesty, I'm not imploring you to reverse that edict, but imploring you for another edict - an amicable divorce with General Warren." The young king was taken aback. "Divorce? You want a divorce?" Carissa nodded her head firmly. She was never someone to pester some man. If Barret Warren loved Aurora Yates so much, then she would let him go. What she needed now was a single edict for an amicable divorce, so she could take away all her dowery and get rid of the despicable Warren family for good, dignified and head high...	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	168	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	shgjfh.com	DCO		https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/461342866_403665495877678_8039372569247806790_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=H6Bkc62YVmkQ7kNvgHtMIMV&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAvtxUF6dGku3Rht2QvTRkAXX_nekhQIz7Gl00siVEmqA&oe=6707A9B5	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,152	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101639}'	Yes	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	At Grace Mansion, Carissa Sinclair stared at the man before her—her husband she had waited for a whole year. Barrett Warren, still in his battle armor, wore an expression of both determination and guilt. "Carissa, the king has issued a royal edict for my marriage with Aurora. She will be joining our household. There's no question about it," said Barrett. Carissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "The queen dowager has praised General Yates as a model for all women in the kingdom. Would she be willing to be a concubine?" Barrett's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "No, she won’t be a concubine. She’ll be my legal wife, equal to you." "But calling her equal doesn't change the fact that she’s still just a concubine," Carissa said, a soft smile playing on her lips. Barrett frowned. "Why can't you face the reality? Aurora and I fell in love with each other on the battlefield, and we earned this marriage with our glorified victory. In fact, I don’t really need your approval on it." Carissa smiled mockingly. "Fell in love, huh? Have you forgot what you promised me before you left for war?" On their wedding night a year ago, Barrett was called away to lead reinforcements on an expedition. Before he left, he lifted his wife’s veil and vowed, "Carrisa Sinclair, you're the only woman I'll ever love in my life. I will never take a concubine!" Embarrassed, Barrett avoided her eye contact. "Just forget what I said. Back then, I only considered you a suitable match for a wife. I knew nothing about love until I met Rory." When he spoke of the woman he loved, his eyes softened with deep affection. Turning back to Carissa, he added, "She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I love her deeply, and I hope you'll be generous enough to welcome her." Carissa felt a lump in her throat. Despite her disgust and reluctance, she asked, "What about your parents? Do they agree?" "They do. It was a royal edict, and mother liked her a lot upon seeing her." They agreed? Huh... How ironic! Seems like everything Carissa had done for this household had all been for nothing. "Is she currently in the mansion?" Carissa asked, lifting a brow. Barrett carried a softness in his voice, "Yes, she’s talking to my mother and making her very happy. Even mother's health seems to be improving." "Improving?" Carissa felt a whirlwind of emotions. "When you went to war, your mother was already gravely ill. I brought in the best physician, managed the estate’s affairs by day, and stayed up nights caring for her. That's how her condition started to improve." Carissa wasn’t seeking praise. She was just laying out the facts of her exhausting year. "But seeing Aurora has made my mother feel even better," Barrett said earnestly. "I know this is unfair to you, but for the greater good, please support Aurora and me." Carissa lowered her eyes, as if blinking away the tears. But inspected closely, that's actually her sharpened gaze. "Invite General Yates over. I have a few things to ask her." "There's no need," Barrett refused instantly. "Carissa, she’s different from any woman you know. As a general, she’s above household squabbles and wouldn’t want to meet you." Carissa retorted, "What are women I know like? Or tell me, what kind of woman am I to you? Have you forgotten? I'm also the daughter of the Marquis's family. My father and my six brothers sacrificed on the Southern Frontier three years ago-" "That’s them," Barrett interrupted. "you're still a delicate woman suited only for home comforts, while Aurora has no respect for that. Besides, she never holds back her true thoughts. Trust me, you won't want to hear it from her." As Carissa looked up, the striking beauty mark under her eye became more evident in the light. Calmly, she said, "It’s fine. If she says anything unpleasant, I’ll ignore it. A true matriarch must understand the bigger picture and act with dignity. Don’t you trust me?" Barrett sighed in frustration. “Why put yourself through this? The king has approved this marriage, and Aurora will never threaten your control of the household. Carissa, she couldn't care less about those things.” “Oh, you think that's what I fear? Losing the control of this household?” Carissa countered. Little did Barrett know his household had been reduced to a hollow shell - managing it was a hot potato no one else would bear. Over the past year, it was Carissa's dowry alone that kept the Warren family’s life respectable, and this was her reward. “Enough,” Barrett snapped, his patience running thin. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. Your opinion won’t change anything.” As Carissa watched hum storm out, her bitterness deepened. “My lady, my lord has really crossed the line!” Lulu, Carissa’s maid, said, wiping her tears. “Don’t call him that!” Carissa gave her a stern look. “We never consummated the marriage. He’s not your lord. Now go fetch my dowry list.” “Why the dowry list?” Lulu asked, puzzled. Carissa tapped her on the forehead. “Silly girl, we need to reckon everything before we leave.” Lulu gasped. “Leave? But where can we go? To the Northwatch Estate?” Suddenly Lulu held her tongue, aware that she had touched the sensitive subject. She spared Carissa a guilty look, "I'll get the list now, my lady." Upon the mention of Northwatch Estate, the always restrained Carissa finally let her tears fall. When she was fifteen, her father, the Marquis of Northwatch, had sacrificed his life on the battlefield. Then, just six months ago, her entire family at the Northwatch Estate was brutally slaughtered — assassins rumored to be spies from the enemy nation, Westhaven. She rushed back after getting the news, only to find the dismembered bodies of her mother and grandmother. Even her youngest nephew, two years old, didn't escape death, neither. Now, she was the lone survivor of the marquis' family, the idea of restoring her family’s former glory seemed impossible—at least to outsiders. After all, she was presented mostly as a delicate, fragile woman, while Aurora Taytes had just made herself the first female general in history. It's only natural that the Warren family was more than happy to agree to the marriage. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, Carissa's martial talent was never beneath her father and brothers. If given a chance on the battlefield, she would definitely outshine Aurora Taytes, perhaps a million times more... Just then, Lulu had brought over the dowry list, "My lady, this year alone, you've spent over six thousand silver coins supporting the household. However, the shops, houses, and estates remain untouched. All the bank savings, along with the property deeds and land titles your mother left, are locked up in the chest." "I see." Carisse's gaze lingered on the list with melancholy. Her mother had given her such a substantial dowry, fearing she might face hardship in her husband's home. Yet now here she was. The Warren family had disregarded all her effort, and Barrett had even broken his vow to take no concubine - the very promise that led her mother to choose him over more eligible suitors, despite the Warren family’s fall from grace. 'Was this really the life mother wanted me to have?' It took Carissa no time to made up her mind. “Lulu, get prepared. There's somewhere we need to go tomorrow.” ... Early the next morning, Carissa and Lulu boarded a carriage, heading straight for the royal palace. It was noon by the time they arrived. Under the scorching autumn sun, Carissa and Lulu stood like statues in front of the palace gates. They waited for a full hour, but no one came to let them in. In the palace's study, Derek Walker had already reported Carissa’s arrival to the king three times. “Your Majesty, Mrs. Warren is still waiting outside the palace gates,” he repeated. The king, Salvador Quinton, set aside the document he was reading and rubbed his temples. “I can’t summon her in. The edict has been issued, and can't be taken back. Tell her to go home.” “The guards tried to persuade her, but she refused to leave. She’s been standing there for over an hour without moving.” Salvador felt a pang of guilt. “Barrett requested the marriage as a reward for his military service. I didn’t want to agree, either, but not granting it would embarrass both him and General Yates. They have after all won a big war.” “Your Majesty, when it comes to military achievements, no one can compare to the Marquis of Northwatch,” Derek countered. Salvador thought of Hector Sinclair, the Marquis of Northwatch. When Salvador was a crown prince who had recently joined the military, it was Hector who had guided him. Back then, he had also known Carissa when she was only a cute kid. Salvador himself had fought a bloody path to the throne, paved with death. He understood the struggles of military officers, so when Barrett requested marriage as a reward, Salvador had hesitated but eventually agreed. But Derek was right. In terms of military merit, Barrett and Aurora were far inferior to Hector Sinclair. “Alright, let her in. If she agrees to this marriage, I’ll grant her whatever she wants, even if it's a noble title or an official rank,” said Salvador. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “As always, you're wise, Your Majesty!” ... Carissa knelt in the study with her head bowed. Recalling that Carissa was now the only one left the Sinclair family, Salvador felt nothing but pity for her. "Rise and speak," he commanded. Carissa bowed deeply with her hands clasped. "Your Majesty, I know it's presumptuous of me to seek an audience today. But I also wish to implore for your grace." "Carissa Sinclair, I have already issued the edict of marriage. It's impossible to revoke it," Salvador said. Carissa shook her head gently. "Your Majesty, I'm not imploring you to reverse that edict, but imploring you for another edict - an amicable divorce with General Warren." The young king was taken aback. "Divorce? You want a divorce?" Carissa nodded her head firmly. She was never someone to pester some man. If Barret Warren loved Aurora Yates so much, then she would let him go. What she needed now was a single edict for an amicable divorce, so she could take away all her dowery and get rid of the despicable Warren family for good, dignified and head high...	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	168	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	shgjfh.com	DCO		https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/461342866_403665495877678_8039372569247806790_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=H6Bkc62YVmkQ7kNvgHtMIMV&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAvtxUF6dGku3Rht2QvTRkAXX_nekhQIz7Gl00siVEmqA&oe=6707A9B5	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,158	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101639}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	At Grace Mansion, Carissa Sinclair stared at the man before her—her husband she had waited for a whole year. Barrett Warren, still in his battle armor, wore an expression of both determination and guilt. "Carissa, the king has issued a royal edict for my marriage with Aurora. She will be joining our household. There's no question about it," said Barrett. Carissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "The queen dowager has praised General Yates as a model for all women in the kingdom. Would she be willing to be a concubine?" Barrett's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "No, she won’t be a concubine. She’ll be my legal wife, equal to you." "But calling her equal doesn't change the fact that she’s still just a concubine," Carissa said, a soft smile playing on her lips. Barrett frowned. "Why can't you face the reality? Aurora and I fell in love with each other on the battlefield, and we earned this marriage with our glorified victory. In fact, I don’t really need your approval on it." Carissa smiled mockingly. "Fell in love, huh? Have you forgot what you promised me before you left for war?" On their wedding night a year ago, Barrett was called away to lead reinforcements on an expedition. Before he left, he lifted his wife’s veil and vowed, "Carrisa Sinclair, you're the only woman I'll ever love in my life. I will never take a concubine!" Embarrassed, Barrett avoided her eye contact. "Just forget what I said. Back then, I only considered you a suitable match for a wife. I knew nothing about love until I met Rory." When he spoke of the woman he loved, his eyes softened with deep affection. Turning back to Carissa, he added, "She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I love her deeply, and I hope you'll be generous enough to welcome her." Carissa felt a lump in her throat. Despite her disgust and reluctance, she asked, "What about your parents? Do they agree?" "They do. It was a royal edict, and mother liked her a lot upon seeing her." They agreed? Huh... How ironic! Seems like everything Carissa had done for this household had all been for nothing. "Is she currently in the mansion?" Carissa asked, lifting a brow. Barrett carried a softness in his voice, "Yes, she’s talking to my mother and making her very happy. Even mother's health seems to be improving." "Improving?" Carissa felt a whirlwind of emotions. "When you went to war, your mother was already gravely ill. I brought in the best physician, managed the estate’s affairs by day, and stayed up nights caring for her. That's how her condition started to improve." Carissa wasn’t seeking praise. She was just laying out the facts of her exhausting year. "But seeing Aurora has made my mother feel even better," Barrett said earnestly. "I know this is unfair to you, but for the greater good, please support Aurora and me." Carissa lowered her eyes, as if blinking away the tears. But inspected closely, that's actually her sharpened gaze. "Invite General Yates over. I have a few things to ask her." "There's no need," Barrett refused instantly. "Carissa, she’s different from any woman you know. As a general, she’s above household squabbles and wouldn’t want to meet you." Carissa retorted, "What are women I know like? Or tell me, what kind of woman am I to you? Have you forgotten? I'm also the daughter of the Marquis's family. My father and my six brothers sacrificed on the Southern Frontier three years ago-" "That’s them," Barrett interrupted. "you're still a delicate woman suited only for home comforts, while Aurora has no respect for that. Besides, she never holds back her true thoughts. Trust me, you won't want to hear it from her." As Carissa looked up, the striking beauty mark under her eye became more evident in the light. Calmly, she said, "It’s fine. If she says anything unpleasant, I’ll ignore it. A true matriarch must understand the bigger picture and act with dignity. Don’t you trust me?" Barrett sighed in frustration. “Why put yourself through this? The king has approved this marriage, and Aurora will never threaten your control of the household. Carissa, she couldn't care less about those things.” “Oh, you think that's what I fear? Losing the control of this household?” Carissa countered. Little did Barrett know his household had been reduced to a hollow shell - managing it was a hot potato no one else would bear. Over the past year, it was Carissa's dowry alone that kept the Warren family’s life respectable, and this was her reward. “Enough,” Barrett snapped, his patience running thin. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. Your opinion won’t change anything.” As Carissa watched hum storm out, her bitterness deepened. “My lady, my lord has really crossed the line!” Lulu, Carissa’s maid, said, wiping her tears. “Don’t call him that!” Carissa gave her a stern look. “We never consummated the marriage. He’s not your lord. Now go fetch my dowry list.” “Why the dowry list?” Lulu asked, puzzled. Carissa tapped her on the forehead. “Silly girl, we need to reckon everything before we leave.” Lulu gasped. “Leave? But where can we go? To the Northwatch Estate?” Suddenly Lulu held her tongue, aware that she had touched the sensitive subject. She spared Carissa a guilty look, "I'll get the list now, my lady." Upon the mention of Northwatch Estate, the always restrained Carissa finally let her tears fall. When she was fifteen, her father, the Marquis of Northwatch, had sacrificed his life on the battlefield. Then, just six months ago, her entire family at the Northwatch Estate was brutally slaughtered — assassins rumored to be spies from the enemy nation, Westhaven. She rushed back after getting the news, only to find the dismembered bodies of her mother and grandmother. Even her youngest nephew, two years old, didn't escape death, neither. Now, she was the lone survivor of the marquis' family, the idea of restoring her family’s former glory seemed impossible—at least to outsiders. After all, she was presented mostly as a delicate, fragile woman, while Aurora Taytes had just made herself the first female general in history. It's only natural that the Warren family was more than happy to agree to the marriage. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, Carissa's martial talent was never beneath her father and brothers. If given a chance on the battlefield, she would definitely outshine Aurora Taytes, perhaps a million times more... Just then, Lulu had brought over the dowry list, "My lady, this year alone, you've spent over six thousand silver coins supporting the household. However, the shops, houses, and estates remain untouched. All the bank savings, along with the property deeds and land titles your mother left, are locked up in the chest." "I see." Carisse's gaze lingered on the list with melancholy. Her mother had given her such a substantial dowry, fearing she might face hardship in her husband's home. Yet now here she was. The Warren family had disregarded all her effort, and Barrett had even broken his vow to take no concubine - the very promise that led her mother to choose him over more eligible suitors, despite the Warren family’s fall from grace. 'Was this really the life mother wanted me to have?' It took Carissa no time to made up her mind. “Lulu, get prepared. There's somewhere we need to go tomorrow.” ... Early the next morning, Carissa and Lulu boarded a carriage, heading straight for the royal palace. It was noon by the time they arrived. Under the scorching autumn sun, Carissa and Lulu stood like statues in front of the palace gates. They waited for a full hour, but no one came to let them in. In the palace's study, Derek Walker had already reported Carissa’s arrival to the king three times. “Your Majesty, Mrs. Warren is still waiting outside the palace gates,” he repeated. The king, Salvador Quinton, set aside the document he was reading and rubbed his temples. “I can’t summon her in. The edict has been issued, and can't be taken back. Tell her to go home.” “The guards tried to persuade her, but she refused to leave. She’s been standing there for over an hour without moving.” Salvador felt a pang of guilt. “Barrett requested the marriage as a reward for his military service. I didn’t want to agree, either, but not granting it would embarrass both him and General Yates. They have after all won a big war.” “Your Majesty, when it comes to military achievements, no one can compare to the Marquis of Northwatch,” Derek countered. Salvador thought of Hector Sinclair, the Marquis of Northwatch. When Salvador was a crown prince who had recently joined the military, it was Hector who had guided him. Back then, he had also known Carissa when she was only a cute kid. Salvador himself had fought a bloody path to the throne, paved with death. He understood the struggles of military officers, so when Barrett requested marriage as a reward, Salvador had hesitated but eventually agreed. But Derek was right. In terms of military merit, Barrett and Aurora were far inferior to Hector Sinclair. “Alright, let her in. If she agrees to this marriage, I’ll grant her whatever she wants, even if it's a noble title or an official rank,” said Salvador. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “As always, you're wise, Your Majesty!” ... Carissa knelt in the study with her head bowed. Recalling that Carissa was now the only one left the Sinclair family, Salvador felt nothing but pity for her. "Rise and speak," he commanded. Carissa bowed deeply with her hands clasped. "Your Majesty, I know it's presumptuous of me to seek an audience today. But I also wish to implore for your grace." "Carissa Sinclair, I have already issued the edict of marriage. It's impossible to revoke it," Salvador said. Carissa shook her head gently. "Your Majesty, I'm not imploring you to reverse that edict, but imploring you for another edict - an amicable divorce with General Warren." The young king was taken aback. "Divorce? You want a divorce?" Carissa nodded her head firmly. She was never someone to pester some man. If Barret Warren loved Aurora Yates so much, then she would let him go. What she needed now was a single edict for an amicable divorce, so she could take away all her dowery and get rid of the despicable Warren family for good, dignified and head high...	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	168	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	shgjfh.com	DCO		https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/461342866_403665495877678_8039372569247806790_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=H6Bkc62YVmkQ7kNvgHtMIMV&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYAvtxUF6dGku3Rht2QvTRkAXX_nekhQIz7Gl00siVEmqA&oe=6707A9B5	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,102,162	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101965}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 "You'll have the test results in about an hour." The nurse's smile was gentle and reassuring as she took the vial of blood from Madeline Sanders. Madeline held a cotton swab to her arm and settled into a chair in the waiting area. She was a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with hope. She had a hunch she was conceived, and that hospital visit was just to make sure. Three years ago, Trevon Gibson was involved in a terrible car crash that left him comatose, with doctors saying he would never wake up. Lydia Sanders, Trevon's high school sweetheart and Madeline's half-sister, did not waste any time and jetted off abroad for her studies. Somehow, Trevon's grandmother—Edith Gibson—figured that Madeline was Trevon's lucky charm and insisted she marry him. The Gibson family promised to care for Madeline's mother, who was lost in her own world of madness. Madeline felt trapped but agreed to the marriage. Little did everyone know that Madeline was secretly in love with Trevon for years. To everyone's surprise, Trevon woke up after the wedding. However, Madeline's joy was short-lived. Trevon's first words to her were icy and calculated. "Out of respect for my grandmother, I'll take you as Mrs. Gibson for three years. When Lydia returns in three years, I will marry her." Madeline had braced herself to play along with that deal, ready to step aside when the time came. However, life threw a curveball a month and a half ago. Trevon stumbled home after drowning his sorrows in wine that day, and Madeline single-handedly managed to drag him inside. Supporting a drunken Trevon was like moving a boulder—each step a battle of strength. Madeline and Trevon could no longer keep themselves upright and crumpled to the floor just inside the front door. Their lips brushed together in the fall, an accidental kiss that sent Madeline's heart racing. Trevon was a notorious germaphobe, avoiding physical contact like the plague. However, that unexpected kiss seemed to unlock something in him, and he leaned in for another. Madeline was caught off guard, but she did not resist. Later, in the quiet aftermath, Madeline could not bear to stay in the bed they shared. She tiptoed around the sleeping Trevon, erasing any trace of what had happened between them. The hospital was a hive of activity, but Madeline felt alone in the crowd. With trembling hands, she opened the lab results. 'Early stage of conceive. Recommend a follow-up ultrasound.' Joy flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind her hand to muffle her giggles. Regardless of the state of her marriage, that baby was a precious gift. She was eager to tell Trevon, her fingers hovering over her phone. However, she hesitated. Trevon's germaphobia was not just about objects—it extended to people. She had seen him scrub his hands raw after a mere handshake. However, wine had loosened his inhibitions that one night. Would he believe the baby was his? Doubt clouded Madeline's mind, bringing a headache and a wave of nausea. She was jostled as a group of doctors in white coats rushed by, nearly sending her phone flying. "Emergency! Please step aside," a nurse said, flashing Madeline a quick, apologetic smile before dashing off. Madeline took a deep breath, watching the commotion unfold. Her gaze drifted to the emergency room doors without much thought. However, in a heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. Trevon was there, shielding Lydia as they stepped down from the ambulance. He guided her gently onto a stretcher and, with a team around them, made a beeline for the VIP suite. A chilling shiver sliced through Madeline, her knees buckling as she clung to the nearby railing for support. Lydia was back. In the hospital room, the doctor briefed Trevon. "It seems like a mild concussion, but we'll need the test results to be sure." Trevon's expression was serious. "Speed it up. Use the VIP route." Lydia, stretched out on the gurney, smiled weakly at Trevon. "You're always so kind to me." Lydia pouted as she continued, "I wasn't paying attention. Who would've thought a bike bump could lead to a concussion? In Ameristan, people usually slow down on their own." Trevon gave her a fleeting, detached look. A flicker of worry crossed Lydia's face. "Trevon, with Skylandia's tight deadlines, isn't my accident going to set us back a lot?" Skylandia was the latest venture from Trevon's gaming empire, Xystos Tech, and Lydia had returned to lead the art on it. "I won't stay here. I have to get back to work," she declared, attempting to get out of bed. Trevon was quick to intervene, his hand on her shoulder easing her back down. "Don't be childish." As the tender scene unfolded, Madeline watched them outside the VIP room with gritted teeth. Trevon was notorious for his meticulous ways, but he did have a soft spot. He was not always distant. He just saved all his warmth for Lydia. Madeline felt a wave of emotion as she teared up. She touched her nose and fought the tears. Without really knowing why, she found herself pulling out her phone and calling Trevon. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Trevon's face froze for a moment as he checked his phone, then casually handed it off to his assistant, Simon Taylors. "Tell her I'm tied up in a meeting." Madeline's heart clenched as Trevon's annoyed expression flickered across his face. Simon, moving to the side, answered Madeline's call softly. "Hello, Mrs. Gibson. Mr. Gibson is busy in a meeting. Is there something you need?" Madeline's lips twitched with a defeated smile. "No, it's nothing. I just hit the wrong button." Simon frowned. "Mr. Gibson's schedule is packed. Please be more careful in the future, Mrs. Gibson." The future? Was there even a future to speak of? Lydia, overhearing Simon, gave Trevon a subtle glance. She casually showed off the pink Hello Kitty bandage on her hand. Trevon's eyes snapped to it, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "You still haven't kicked that old habit, I see." Lydia forced a smile. "Well, you know I've always been fond of Hello Kitty." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to soften. Madeline could not stand it any longer. Clutching her phone, she turned around and left. She thought one night could change things, but it was just wishful thinking. Despite the autumn season, Redenbaugh City was sweltering, and the hospital's air conditioning was cranked up, sending chills down her spine. She felt light-headed, as if she were floating on air. Suddenly, a little boy darted into her path, bumping into her. Madeline's face went pale as she caught the little boy, but in doing so, she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. The fall sent a chill up her spine, and she held her belly, too afraid to move. The boy, however, started wailing, drawing curious glances from passersby. His mother rushed over and gave him a quick once-over. When she found him unscathed, she pulled him into a tight embrace before turning to Madeline with fury. "Can't you watch where you're going? You ran into my baby! How will you make this right?" Madeline, her mind on the baby she was carrying, bit back her pain and chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made her way to the maternity ward upstairs. The mother was not having it, yanking on Madeline's arm. "You think you can just hit someone and leave?" Madeline, nearly tripping over, turned slightly and offered calmly, "Should we review the security footage?" The woman, clutching her son, stormed off. Madeline felt her vision darken as she clutched her chest. She leaned against the railing, immobilized. In the VIP ward, Lydia gazed at Trevon longingly and leaned in for a kiss. Trevon, who was aloof, felt a wave of nausea as she got close. His vision blurred, and his chest tightened. He flinched and shoved Lydia away. Chapter 2 "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look." Trevon, fresh from the hospital, confronted Madeline with a request for divorce. The image of Lydia's hurt look lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of resignation. His rejection was not just about his aversion to germs. It was also the sudden sickness and weakness that overtook him. He dismissed it as a one-off, which was not worth worrying about. However, faced with Madeline, the discomfort was undeniable. Madeline, still reeling from her hospital visit, was blindsided by the divorce papers laid out before her. It took a moment for her to find her voice, and when she did, it quivered. "Do we really have to end this?" "Yes." Madeline's grip tightened, and the question she could not suppress spilled out. "Is it because Lydia's back?" Trevon loosened his tie, his face turning to stone. "Didn't I make myself clear three years ago?" He had, and she had accepted it. However… "If... Just if..." Madeline hesitated, biting her lip. Trevon was impatient. "Madeline, you can't always want more." She looked up sharply, disbelief etched on her face. Did he think she was haggling over the divorce terms? With several deliberate taps on the table, Trevon continued, "Indeed, you've done everything required of being a wife these past three years. There's a modest place near Johnsrud. It's yours now. That's the best I can do. Don't make me lose respect for you." Madeline's response was trapped in her throat as she smiled bitterly. Three years of marriage, and her reward was a house. Should she be thankful? He was determined to get the divorce over with, by any means necessary. There was no need to mention the baby. It would only complicate how he saw her. She did not need a man whose heart belonged to another. Madeline felt nauseous, feeling like she needed to purge immediately. She crouched down to clutch the bin and gagged, but nothing came up. Trevon watched, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Why did her sickness stir something in him? Was it a mere coincidence? Seeing her ashen face, it was clear she was unwell. Trevor gave Madeline a questioning look. "Are you sick? When did it start? What's wrong?" Madeline felt the urge to throw up but could not, which only intensified her discomfort. Clinging to the trash can seemed like the only thing she could do. At the sound of his question, her fingers tensed uncontrollably. She forced a casual response. "Maybe it's just a cold. No big deal." "Answer me!" His voice turned sharp, sending a jolt through Madeline, and she murmured almost without thinking. "This afternoon, when you were… I'm just feeling a bit of chest tightness, weak limbs, and a touch of nausea. Typical cold symptoms." She did not bring up the hospital visit, quickly labeling it a cold to avoid any wild guesses. The timing and the symptoms lined up perfectly. 'So, it's because we caught a cold at the same time?' Trevon wondered. Madeline finally let go of her resistance. She deliberately avoided the divorce papers on the table and fetched the sour orange she had bought earlier from the fridge. Her mouth was unbearably uncomfortable, and she craved the relief of something sour. After all, she would need some strength in her hand to sign those papers. The moment she took out the sour orange, its tangy scent filled the room. Catching a glimpse of Trevon standing to the side, watching her with a frown, she hesitated before offering, "Want one?" Trevon looked away, clearly uninterested. Madeline chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. You're not into sour stuff." However, as she sliced into the vibrant sour orange and its juicy interior burst with a potent tangy aroma, Trevon seemed unable to look away. Madeline was about to take a bite when she noticed Trevon approaching. His towering presence felt like a wall closing in, making the kitchen feel smaller by the second. Instinctively, Madeline stepped back. "If you don't like it, then I'll just..." Before she could finish, Trevon was at the sink, lathering up with soap, washing his hands with deliberate care three times before reaching for a piece of the sour orange. He scrunched his forehead, eyeing the orange for a long moment before popping it into his mouth. Madeline's jaw dropped in astonishment. However, Trevon did not spit it out. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before looking at her seriously. "Next time, make sure the knife's washed three times, okay?" The urge to bite into that tangy orange slice was irresistible. Sure enough, the sour kick seemed to soothe his queasy stomach. It was not just some bug. His nausea had kicked in right after Madeline's, as if he was only sick because she was. What was up with that? Trevon made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. Madeline gave a simple "Oh" in response. They finished the orange together, a moment of closeness they had not felt in three years. After washing her hands, Madeline looked up at Trevon. Sharing that sour fruit seemed to have bridged the gap between them, if only a little. However, their journey together was nearing its end. She murmured, "I'll sign the divorce papers." It was like cashing out after three years. A million and five hundred thousand, and a house to her name. She was coming out ahead. When she was about to sign, Trevon snatched the papers away. "We'll add another house to the deal. Wait for the lawyer's final draft." Madeline nodded, still in a daze. Suddenly, Trevon's phone buzzed and Lydia's whiny voice came through as he picked up the call. "Trevon, when are you coming? I'm bored." Madeline gripped her pen so hard her thumb whitened, nearly snapping it. Trevon ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Madeline stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. "How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?" "We'll talk when I'm back," Trevon replied before the door slammed shut behind him. The house, once filled with life, echoed with emptiness. Madeline chuckled at herself, shook off the silence, and went to the kitchen to whip up some noodles. After all, she had to think about the little one growing inside her. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Trevon, who might have forgotten something, she swung the door open only to be greeted by unwelcome faces. Madeline's warmth vanished. "What are you two doing here?" Cilix Sanders, her father, smiled and said, "You weren't picking up, so your mom and I thought we'd drop by." Her phone did show a string of missed calls. Ignoring their calls was nothing new, but their sudden visit was unexpected. "My mom's lost her mind, locked up in Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital. Did you forget to visit her, or did you forget she's there?" Skylar Lowe, Madeline's stepmother, stood beside Cilix in her flawless outfit. She looked nothing like someone who had toiled in the fields. However, her sharp and calculative eyes matched her biting tone. "Such disrespect! Where are your manners?" Madeline was furious. If she truly lacked manners, Skylar would have been long gone. It was Skylar's appearance, after all, that had tipped her mother over the edge. However, Madeline had been biding her time, collecting proof. They would all pay, eventually. Pushing down the bile, she asked coolly, "So, what brings you here?" "Let's talk inside," was all they said. Once they were in, Madeline poured water into two glasses, her hands steady as stone. Madeline's calm and compliant facade only fueled Skylar's ego. With an arrogant head tilt, she announced, "Your sister's back in town. It's time you end things with Trevon and give up your title as Mrs. Gibson to her!" Madeline fought the impulse to douse Skylar with water as she gripped the kettle firmly. "Give it up? I'm not following you." Madeline's gaze shifted to Cilix. "You told me when Trevon was in that coma, the company was strapped for cash. Marrying Trevon was the only way to afford my mom's medical bills. I married into the Gibson family for the sake of the Sanders family. How did Lydia end up taking my place as the daughter-in-law of the Gibson family?" Chapter 3 "I was looking out for the Sanders family too," Cilix said as he sipped his water. "The Sanders-Gibson family alliance is crucial. Three years by Trevon's side, and what? No kids, no hold on his heart, no benefits for the Sanders family. Now that Lydia's back, along with her bond with Trevon, these issues will vanish. I can even afford better care for your mother." Cilix's duplicity struck Madeline once more. Madeline countered, "Did you forget why Lydia left the country? Or do you think the Gibsons have forgotten too?" "That's why we're asking you to initiate the divorce with Trevon," Cilix replied. Madeline saw right through their plot. She would step aside, letting Lydia take the lead, and the Sanders family would reap all the rewards. After a tense silence, Madeline broke the ice. "I'm willing to divorce Trevon, but on one condition. I want my mom's shares—the ones she's entitled to." Cilix instantly became furious. Once upon a time, the Sanders family was a picture of unity. Cilix, who came from nothing, married Bella Ziegler—Madeline's mother—and quickly turned his fortune around with a garment factory. However, Bella paid a steep price, severing ties with her own family. It was not until Skylar—previously 'Jolene', with her kids in tow—showed up that Bella realized the magnitude of her mistake. She battled depression for years, and the strain of the revelation only deepened her illness. That was when Cilix dropped the divorce bomb. He played the bankruptcy card during the split, claiming all assets were tied up. Bella was left with scraps. However, once the divorce papers were signed, Cilix's business miraculously bounced back. Ever the opportunist, Cilix kept footing Bella's medical bills, basking in the glow of his newfound reputation. Madeline only pieced it all together as she grew up—her mother had been played. She had been nursing a plan to set things right ever since. The meeting ended with frosty treatment all around. Madeline shut the door behind them, collapsed onto the couch, and lost herself in the darkness outside the window. … Dawn's light crept into the room. Madeline shielded her eyes and took a moment to adjust before getting up reluctantly. Nausea washed over her in an unforgiving wave. Trevon had not come home all night. Madeline's emotions were a mess—resignation laced with a hint of disappointment. However, above all, there was relief. It was as if her decision to let go the day before had freed her from hope. Madeline sank back into the pillows. The click of the electronic lock signaled an arrival at the door. Madeline glanced up, and there was Lydia, swathed in designer elegance, striding in with a smile that could light up the room. "Madeline, it's been ages." Rising slowly, Madeline perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes a storm of loathing. "Who said you could come in? Leave!" Lydia's smile only grew. "Trevon sent me, of course. He spent last night at the hospital with me, then dashed off to work at dawn. He asked me to pick up a suit for him." A shadow crossed Madeline's face. So, Trevon was with Lydia last night. She had waited like a fool on that couch all night long, clinging to his promise. 'We'll talk when I get back.' "You're just like your mother, always the homewrecker," Madeline spat. Lydia's laughter rang out. "Who's the real homewrecker? It's the unloved one. Even the lock's code is my birthday. Trevon's heart is still with me. Madeline, you've been using my birthday to open this door for the past three years. That must sting, doesn't it?" Madeline's eyes flickered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She inhaled sharply before smiling mockingly. "Is technology that archaic where you come from? We've moved on to facial recognition, or fingerprints at the very least. Key codes are a thing of the past." Lydia's smile faltered, her composure slipping for a split second. "Outdated or not, Trevon's word is law." Madeline could not be bothered with petty squabble. Her nausea was getting worse. She gestured toward Trevon's bedroom. "His stuff's in there. Help yourself." With a smug grin, Lydia disappeared into the room and emerged moments later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. Before she took off, she sauntered over to Madeline, flashed her hand, and there it was—a dazzling diamond ring. There was also that cutesy pink bandage on her finger. "My mom says you're dragging your feet on the divorce—kinda funny, don't you think? Trevon's put a ring on it, so why embarrass yourself? Time to get a clue." She leaned in, whispering to Madeline, "Face it, you've never been able to outdo me in anything since we were kids." Old memories came rushing back. Her favorite things, her mentors, her dad, her very home—Lydia had snatched them all away with just a few words. Madeline squinted and swiftly yanked the bandage off Lydia's hand. "You've always been into taking my stuff, huh?" She eyed Lydia's pristine hand and tossed the bandage into the bin with a look of disgust. "Bandages are disposable. Get a new one, and it's as good as ever. However, you know what's really scary about a guy who's been down the aisle twice?" Madeline rose to her feet, locking eyes with Lydia as she smiled slyly. "It's the lingering lessons from his ex. His style, habits, tastes, thoughts—they're all tinged with the ghost of the woman before you. Chew on that. Good luck." "Madeline!" Ignoring her, Madeline grabbed a bag of clothes and thrust it into Lydia's arms. "So long, no need for goodbyes!" Behind the wheel on her way to work, Lydia smacked the steering wheel, Madeline's parting shot replaying in her head. The phone buzzed. Lydia answered with a huff. "What's up with the wake-up call?" Wren Naylor, Lydia's assistant, hesitated before speaking up with caution. "Ms. Sanders, the planning team wants to add an illustrator to the project. They've already picked someone out." "They've what now? Since when does planning get to call the shots on art hires? They really need to stay in their lane." Wren stayed quiet. Lydia bit back her frustration. "Alright, I'm heading to the office soon. I'll sort it out with them." Instead of going to her department when she arrived at the office, Lydia went to the top floor to drop off some clothes for Trevon. Trevon accepted the clothes, but his brow creased in confusion. Lydia felt a twinge of worry. "Something wrong with the clothes?" They were definitely not his usual brand. Madeline would not slip up like that. "Madeline wasn't there when you picked these up?" Realizing the brand mismatch, Lydia understood her mistake. Madeline's earlier words echoed in her head. Lydia bit her lip, looking hurt. "Madeline just handed me these and shooed me out when I arrived. You know she's never been fond of me." She sighed resignedly and continued, "Typical Madeline, knowing you're in a rush and still acting petty with me. Should I run to the store and grab you a new set?" Trevon cut her off. "Don't bother. You've got work to do." Lydia clammed up, stepping back into silence. Trevon let out a quiet sigh. "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault. Clothes are the least of our worries. We've got the Skylandia project to focus on." In just a week, Skylandia would unveil its magical realms to eager eyes, with artistry at its heart. Lydia, fresh from her hiatus, was steering that ship—the crown jewel of the year for Xystos Tech. She knew the drill, but duty called, and she stepped out with a promise to return for lunch. Madeline, alone then, rinsed a handful of cherry tomatoes, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside her. She scrolled through her phone, the barrage of prenatal check-ups looming large and daunting. Midway through her meticulous note-taking, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find Simon pulling a long face. Chapter 4 "Mr. Gibson sent me some clothes." Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Again?" Simon's eyes flickered with annoyance as he asked, "Why'd you send Mrs. Yagle's clothes?" Simon referred to Trevon's mom, Riley Yagle—a woman whose kindness was only matched by her absentmindedness. Madeline recalled the ill-fitting, off-brand clothes that Trevon probably ditched without a second thought. "Mr. Gibson says, 'Don't get snippy and hold things up,'" Simon relayed with a hint of sternness. Madeline could not help but chuckle, amused by his blind trust. "Lydia told Trevon I picked out the clothes?" Did Trevon need to believe everything Lydia said? Simon rushed her along. Madeline handed him a fresh set of clothes, but her grip lingered as she responded steadily. "Simon, you've been Trevon's right-hand man for what, three, four years now? Do you realize why you're still at the bottom rung, just an assistant? You're good at sizing people up by their titles, but that's not really a skill an assistant needs. Why don't you take a page from Mr. Harris's book?" Trevon did have a star assistant—Daniel Harris—who was so capable that he was sent overseas to handle big deals. That was when Simon got the call to step in. Simon's face went through a mixture of pale and flushed as he absorbed her criticism. Madeline, who was usually quiet, had just thrown shade in his face. He bit back his retort, finally huffing in annoyance and storming off. Madeline let out a soft laugh, brushing off the encounter. With visiting hours ticking closer, Madeline headed to Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital to see Bella. It was more of a wellness retreat than a hospital, nestled right next to Redenbaugh City's fanciest private clinic. Getting in was not easy, but thanks to the Gibson family pulling strings, Bella got a spot. Madeline wheeled her mom out into the courtyard, catching her up on the week's gossip and happenings. Bella was her usual self—unresponsive and staring off into space. Madeline sighed and took her mom's hand, resting it gently on her belly. "Mom, right here, there's a little one on the way. Even with Trevon talking about divorce, I'm keeping this baby. You've got to come back to us. Who will help me with this little one if you don't?" She nestled against Bella's legs, craving the comfort of her mother's presence. Unseen by Madeline, Bella's eyes flickered—a brief, almost missed flutter. "Madeline?" A voice, laced with surprise, called out for her. Madeline looked up to see a man in a lab coat looking her way. The sun was blinding, and Madeline squinted without recognizing the figure before her. There was something oddly familiar about the silhouette. It was not until he was close that she could see it was Caleb Jabs, her old college friend. With a warm smile, Caleb teased, "Madeline, can't you recognize an old friend after just three years?" He opened his arms for a hug, like nothing had changed. Madeline hesitated, then offered a hand for a handshake instead. Caleb's smile faltered, then returned. "Right, we're not on campus anymore." He shook her hand before releasing it, stealing a glance at the wedding ring on her finger. Through their chat, Madeline learned that he had just returned from overseas and that his uncle was running the local private hospital. Caleb nodded toward Bella with a slight smile. "And who is this?" Madeline's smile vanished. "My mom. She's been like this since she had a breakdown three years ago." A breakdown? It looked serious, as if she had lost all touch with the world. What could have caused it? Caleb pushed down his questions, his heart aching for Madeline. "These past three years must've been tough on you." Madeline seemed more grounded than in her college days, but her eyes were shadowed with concern. Madeline shook her head. "It's time for us to head back." She was not one to bare her soul to just anyone. As she rose to leave, she wobbled slightly. Caleb reached out to steady her. "You're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should get checked out." Madeline steadied herself and took a step back. "It's just low blood sugar. I'm fine." Caleb watched Madeline sidestep with a calm smile, not the least bit ruffled. "Back in college, you were always dealing with low blood sugar. Still battling that, huh? Skipped breakfast today?" He was already taking the wheelchair's handles as he spoke, and Madeline allowed it. They got Bella settled and swapped numbers. Then, Caleb pressed a chocolate bar into her hand. "For your sugar levels, have a bite." Madeline's laughter bubbled up. "Caleb, you still keep chocolate on you after all this time?" "Just a habit," he said with a chuckle. That little piece of chocolate seemed to bridge the gap that had grown between them. "How about lunch? It's already noon." Madeline bit her lip, uncertain. However, Caleb was already tugging her along. "There's this great little place I know nearby. You'll love it." Trevon managed to swing by the hospital after his meeting wrapped up. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health. They suggested bringing Madeline in, thinking she might be the key to why he felt off. He left the hospital with that thought, only to see Madeline and Caleb, all smiles, heading into a cozy diner. Madeline's smile was something new, something he had never seen, and it stopped him in his tracks. He took a moment before climbing into his car. From the driver's seat, Simon caught Trevon in the mirror. "Mr. Gibson, wasn't that Mrs. Gibson? Should we pick her up?" Trevon watched them disappear into the diner, a place he would never dream of entering. "No, let's not," he murmured. Simon arched an eyebrow, shot a look of faint scorn at the diner, and sped off. Trevon was reclining in the back seat, eyes closed, soaking in a moment of peace. A few minutes in, a wave of relief washed over him, leaving him feeling surprisingly refreshed. It took him a moment to realize that he was embodying Madeline's happiness. What could possibly be so special about that little shop to make her that cheerful? However, that sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles they served was exceptional—tangy and invigorating. It had been days since Madeline had enjoyed a meal so thoroughly. She even decided to get an extra serving to go. Caleb chuckled. "Noodles never taste as good reheated. Wait, didn't you love spicy food? What's with the switch?" Madeline smiled. "I haven't really switched. This is just that good." She was known for her love of spicy dishes, and even Trevon, the health nut, had found his tastes swayed by her. It was hard to argue with Madeline's culinary magic. Her cooking was irresistible to most. Back home, Madeline had barely set down her takeout when her phone rang. It was Yeneth Collins, her best friend. "Madeline, I've got some good and bad news." Feeling a bit worn out, Madeline sank into the couch. "Go on." "The good news is that you've been chosen to draw the new character for Skylandia. They've sent the contract over to you already." A spark of excitement flickered across Madeline's face as she reached for her laptop to check her email. "And the bad news?" Yeneth sighed heavily. "Lydia is the new art director for Skylandia. She just got the job today. I wouldn't have pushed you to take this gig if I'd known." Since marrying Trevon right after college, Madeline had not returned to the workforce, finding solace and passion in her art. Her style was distinctive, not exactly mainstream, with a focus on creating captivating illustrations. When Yeneth got involved with Skylandia, she thought Madeline's artwork was a perfect fit and put her name forward. Madeline smiled. "No way. The contract's terms are decent. Can't miss an opportunity of making money just because of her." She was always hustling for cash, especially with Bella's medical bills piling up. It meant biting her tongue whenever the Sanders family got tight-fisted. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" "Totally. I freelance under the name 'Lily Mora'. Who will connect the dots?" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open as Trevon walked in. Chapter 5 Madeline's instinct was to snap her laptop shut. "Give me a second." She quickly ended the call and turned to face Trevon. "What's got you home at this hour?" Trevon eyed her hurried movements and washed his hands before replying, "Just needed to pick something up." Madeline responded with a noncommittal hum. His gaze landed on a nearby takeaway box. It was the sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles. It looked just like the one she had had for lunch. Was it really that tasty? A jolt of panic hit Madeline, and she blurted out, "It's for Yeneth, not me." Back when they were newlyweds, Madeline had grabbed some street sausages, and Trevon had gone into a tailspin, bombarding her with articles about the filth of street vendors and the dangers of eating out. Since then, she had avoided eating street food around him. However, she had slipped up and forgotten to stash the evidence. Trevon's chuckle was detached as his eyes drifted to a notebook on the table. Madeline's heart was pounding, and she pushed aside the wave of nausea to dash toward the notebook—her secret journal of conceive appointments. The last thing she wanted was for Trevon to find out she was expecting. However, Trevon was quicker. He stretched out his arm and lifted the notebook from Madeline's reach. Without regard for her protests, he calmly flipped it open. The 'Prenatal Appointment Schedule' header stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze landing on Madeline. Madeline felt her heart jump into her throat. "Is this for Yeneth, too?" Trevon asked. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Madeline quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Yeneth's getting married, thinking about having kids, so I was helping her research." Trevon's suspicion did not wane. "So, why the panic?" Madeline's forehead creased. She let go of the notebook and looked away. "I didn't want you to think I was up to something." Madeline's beauty was marred by her recent illness. Her pale face was then tinged with the flush of sickness, making her look even more vulnerable. Trevon felt a twinge in his chest, and his annoyance grew. Her cold was messing with his work. He tossed the notebook back to Madeline. "I don't have time for this. You should be resting, not running around. If you show up to a divorce proceeding looking like this, people will think I'm the bad guy." Madeline silently clutched the notebook with her head bowed. … At the steakhouse, Lydia stared at her barely touched steak, her mood souring by the minute. When she heard Trevon returned to the Angelic Garden Residence, her annoyance turned to outright anger. "Madeline, that witch!" She whipped out her phone and dialed Skylar's number. Madeline had just reviewed the casting call from Skylandia, wrapped up her draft, and was stretching after a long day when Skylar's call came through. "Get over here tonight. If you don't show up, I'm tossing your mom's stuff." The line went dead. Madeline thought she had taken care of all Bella's things, so what could possibly be left at the Sanders' place? She could not risk it, so she hailed a cab and headed over. The Sanders' mansion was ablaze with lights, screaming new money from every gilded corner. Madeline stood at the entrance, taking in the garish display, and figured Skylar was behind it. Skylar greeted her with a grin, tugging her inside. "I just knew you'd come." Madeline jerked her hand away. "Cut the act, Skylar. There's no one else here. I did what you asked, so where's my mom's stuff?" Chapter 6 Before Skylar could answer, a sharp snap echoed from the side. "Madeline, watch how you talk to my mom!" It was Yale Sanders, Lydia's little brother. With his shoulder-length purple hair and arms sleeved in tattoos, he looked every bit the wannabe gangster. He had been coddled by Skylar all his life, and with the Sanders' wealth, he had gathered a gang of street toughs to back him up. Madeline did not expect him to be there but gave him a cool look and brushed him off. Just then, Cilix descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the air. "Yale!" Yale sulked, his lips puckered as he flopped onto the sofa, clearly annoyed. Cilix motioned for Madeline to take a seat at the dining table. "It's not every day we get your sister back home. I figured a family dinner was in order. Have a seat, will you? I had Mom whip up your favorite fish tacos." Skylar quickly dished some out for her. The oily sheen and the subtle fishy scent made Madeline wrinkle her nose and push the plate away. "I caught a cold and lost my appetite. I'm just here to grab a few things, and I'll be out." Cilix squinted, and Skylar, unable to contain herself, plopped down next to Madeline. "When are you planning on divorcing Trevon, huh? Your dad and I have already scoped out a new guy for you. He's ready to tie the knot and won't wait forever." A resigned feeling washed over Madeline. With a mocking smile, she murmured, "Really? Who's this wonderful match?" Skylar perked up and replied, "He's from a solid family. One of your dad's business partners. The guy owns a string of factories. Marry him, and you'll be the boss. They wouldn't even look twice at a divorcee if it wasn't for your dad's connections." She made it sound like a fairy tale. Madeline cut to the chase. "The owner of these factories? How old?" Skylar hesitated, then chuckled. "Not too old. He's just a bit over forty and in the prime of his life. It'll be your second marriage, so you can't afford to be choosy. Plus, they've promised to cut your dad a deal if you marry in. Consider it a tribute to your mom." Three years had passed, and Madeline's disdain for her family's ways was as strong as ever. She glared at Cilix. "Over forty? You're okay with this, being not much older yourself?" Cilix looked pained as he spoke, "Skylar's just trying to do what's best for you. Remarrying and bringing your mom into the mix, finding someone okay with that wasn't easy. Skylar really went out of her way for you." Skylar nodded earnestly. It had indeed been a challenge. Madeline needed to be married off and kept far away to avoid causing Lydia any more headaches. "Don't worry, the guy doesn't have kids. Everything in the future will be yours and your children's. It's a real stroke of luck." Madeline suddenly chimed in, "It's true. These kinds of terms are hard to come by. You've really outdone yourself, but…" Breaking from her usual composure, Madeline locked eyes with Cilix. "I was clear yesterday. I just want what my mom is entitled to—her shares. Those shares are peanuts compared to being Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family." Cilix remained expressionless, but his eyes were calculative. "Your mom's shares?" Thinking she had swayed Cilix, Skylar piped up in a shrill tone. "What shares does her mother have? The Sanders family fortune is all thanks to me and Cilix. It's got nothing to do with your loony mom." Madeline's glare whipped towards Skylar, sharp enough to shut her up. "Apologize." "Why should I? Your mom's the crazy one." Without warning, a cup of scalding water splashed across Skylar's face, and she let out a scream. However, before Madeline could react, she was yanked back forcefully. A second later, she was punched in the face. "You owe her an apology!" Chapter 7 Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline. Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her. Conceived had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation. The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch. Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen." Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down. She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever. As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him. "One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!" Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped. He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?" Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day." Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?" Yale did not budge. Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down." Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back." Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix. Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?" Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word. The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness. Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!" The pair entered the room. Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?" Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now." With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside. Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?" Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh. "So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?" "Is this enough for you?" Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there. That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again. He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand. She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up. The room fell silent. Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why? Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency. Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart. Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet." He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time." With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.	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2,102,164	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2101965}'	No	2024-10-05 21:46	active	1584	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 "You'll have the test results in about an hour." The nurse's smile was gentle and reassuring as she took the vial of blood from Madeline Sanders. Madeline held a cotton swab to her arm and settled into a chair in the waiting area. She was a bit pale, but her eyes sparkled with hope. She had a hunch she was conceived, and that hospital visit was just to make sure. Three years ago, Trevon Gibson was involved in a terrible car crash that left him comatose, with doctors saying he would never wake up. Lydia Sanders, Trevon's high school sweetheart and Madeline's half-sister, did not waste any time and jetted off abroad for her studies. Somehow, Trevon's grandmother—Edith Gibson—figured that Madeline was Trevon's lucky charm and insisted she marry him. The Gibson family promised to care for Madeline's mother, who was lost in her own world of madness. Madeline felt trapped but agreed to the marriage. Little did everyone know that Madeline was secretly in love with Trevon for years. To everyone's surprise, Trevon woke up after the wedding. However, Madeline's joy was short-lived. Trevon's first words to her were icy and calculated. "Out of respect for my grandmother, I'll take you as Mrs. Gibson for three years. When Lydia returns in three years, I will marry her." Madeline had braced herself to play along with that deal, ready to step aside when the time came. However, life threw a curveball a month and a half ago. Trevon stumbled home after drowning his sorrows in wine that day, and Madeline single-handedly managed to drag him inside. Supporting a drunken Trevon was like moving a boulder—each step a battle of strength. Madeline and Trevon could no longer keep themselves upright and crumpled to the floor just inside the front door. Their lips brushed together in the fall, an accidental kiss that sent Madeline's heart racing. Trevon was a notorious germaphobe, avoiding physical contact like the plague. However, that unexpected kiss seemed to unlock something in him, and he leaned in for another. Madeline was caught off guard, but she did not resist. Later, in the quiet aftermath, Madeline could not bear to stay in the bed they shared. She tiptoed around the sleeping Trevon, erasing any trace of what had happened between them. The hospital was a hive of activity, but Madeline felt alone in the crowd. With trembling hands, she opened the lab results. 'Early stage of conceive. Recommend a follow-up ultrasound.' Joy flickered across her face, quickly hidden behind her hand to muffle her giggles. Regardless of the state of her marriage, that baby was a precious gift. She was eager to tell Trevon, her fingers hovering over her phone. However, she hesitated. Trevon's germaphobia was not just about objects—it extended to people. She had seen him scrub his hands raw after a mere handshake. However, wine had loosened his inhibitions that one night. Would he believe the baby was his? Doubt clouded Madeline's mind, bringing a headache and a wave of nausea. She was jostled as a group of doctors in white coats rushed by, nearly sending her phone flying. "Emergency! Please step aside," a nurse said, flashing Madeline a quick, apologetic smile before dashing off. Madeline took a deep breath, watching the commotion unfold. Her gaze drifted to the emergency room doors without much thought. However, in a heartbeat, her eyes widened in shock. Trevon was there, shielding Lydia as they stepped down from the ambulance. He guided her gently onto a stretcher and, with a team around them, made a beeline for the VIP suite. A chilling shiver sliced through Madeline, her knees buckling as she clung to the nearby railing for support. Lydia was back. In the hospital room, the doctor briefed Trevon. "It seems like a mild concussion, but we'll need the test results to be sure." Trevon's expression was serious. "Speed it up. Use the VIP route." Lydia, stretched out on the gurney, smiled weakly at Trevon. "You're always so kind to me." Lydia pouted as she continued, "I wasn't paying attention. Who would've thought a bike bump could lead to a concussion? In Ameristan, people usually slow down on their own." Trevon gave her a fleeting, detached look. A flicker of worry crossed Lydia's face. "Trevon, with Skylandia's tight deadlines, isn't my accident going to set us back a lot?" Skylandia was the latest venture from Trevon's gaming empire, Xystos Tech, and Lydia had returned to lead the art on it. "I won't stay here. I have to get back to work," she declared, attempting to get out of bed. Trevon was quick to intervene, his hand on her shoulder easing her back down. "Don't be childish." As the tender scene unfolded, Madeline watched them outside the VIP room with gritted teeth. Trevon was notorious for his meticulous ways, but he did have a soft spot. He was not always distant. He just saved all his warmth for Lydia. Madeline felt a wave of emotion as she teared up. She touched her nose and fought the tears. Without really knowing why, she found herself pulling out her phone and calling Trevon. In the sterile silence of the hospital room, Trevon's face froze for a moment as he checked his phone, then casually handed it off to his assistant, Simon Taylors. "Tell her I'm tied up in a meeting." Madeline's heart clenched as Trevon's annoyed expression flickered across his face. Simon, moving to the side, answered Madeline's call softly. "Hello, Mrs. Gibson. Mr. Gibson is busy in a meeting. Is there something you need?" Madeline's lips twitched with a defeated smile. "No, it's nothing. I just hit the wrong button." Simon frowned. "Mr. Gibson's schedule is packed. Please be more careful in the future, Mrs. Gibson." The future? Was there even a future to speak of? Lydia, overhearing Simon, gave Trevon a subtle glance. She casually showed off the pink Hello Kitty bandage on her hand. Trevon's eyes snapped to it, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "You still haven't kicked that old habit, I see." Lydia forced a smile. "Well, you know I've always been fond of Hello Kitty." Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to soften. Madeline could not stand it any longer. Clutching her phone, she turned around and left. She thought one night could change things, but it was just wishful thinking. Despite the autumn season, Redenbaugh City was sweltering, and the hospital's air conditioning was cranked up, sending chills down her spine. She felt light-headed, as if she were floating on air. Suddenly, a little boy darted into her path, bumping into her. Madeline's face went pale as she caught the little boy, but in doing so, she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. The fall sent a chill up her spine, and she held her belly, too afraid to move. The boy, however, started wailing, drawing curious glances from passersby. His mother rushed over and gave him a quick once-over. When she found him unscathed, she pulled him into a tight embrace before turning to Madeline with fury. "Can't you watch where you're going? You ran into my baby! How will you make this right?" Madeline, her mind on the baby she was carrying, bit back her pain and chose not to retaliate. Instead, she made her way to the maternity ward upstairs. The mother was not having it, yanking on Madeline's arm. "You think you can just hit someone and leave?" Madeline, nearly tripping over, turned slightly and offered calmly, "Should we review the security footage?" The woman, clutching her son, stormed off. Madeline felt her vision darken as she clutched her chest. She leaned against the railing, immobilized. In the VIP ward, Lydia gazed at Trevon longingly and leaned in for a kiss. Trevon, who was aloof, felt a wave of nausea as she got close. His vision blurred, and his chest tightened. He flinched and shoved Lydia away. Chapter 2 "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look." Trevon, fresh from the hospital, confronted Madeline with a request for divorce. The image of Lydia's hurt look lingered in his mind, leaving him with a sense of resignation. His rejection was not just about his aversion to germs. It was also the sudden sickness and weakness that overtook him. He dismissed it as a one-off, which was not worth worrying about. However, faced with Madeline, the discomfort was undeniable. Madeline, still reeling from her hospital visit, was blindsided by the divorce papers laid out before her. It took a moment for her to find her voice, and when she did, it quivered. "Do we really have to end this?" "Yes." Madeline's grip tightened, and the question she could not suppress spilled out. "Is it because Lydia's back?" Trevon loosened his tie, his face turning to stone. "Didn't I make myself clear three years ago?" He had, and she had accepted it. However… "If... Just if..." Madeline hesitated, biting her lip. Trevon was impatient. "Madeline, you can't always want more." She looked up sharply, disbelief etched on her face. Did he think she was haggling over the divorce terms? With several deliberate taps on the table, Trevon continued, "Indeed, you've done everything required of being a wife these past three years. There's a modest place near Johnsrud. It's yours now. That's the best I can do. Don't make me lose respect for you." Madeline's response was trapped in her throat as she smiled bitterly. Three years of marriage, and her reward was a house. Should she be thankful? He was determined to get the divorce over with, by any means necessary. There was no need to mention the baby. It would only complicate how he saw her. She did not need a man whose heart belonged to another. Madeline felt nauseous, feeling like she needed to purge immediately. She crouched down to clutch the bin and gagged, but nothing came up. Trevon watched, his brow furrowed in disbelief. Why did her sickness stir something in him? Was it a mere coincidence? Seeing her ashen face, it was clear she was unwell. Trevor gave Madeline a questioning look. "Are you sick? When did it start? What's wrong?" Madeline felt the urge to throw up but could not, which only intensified her discomfort. Clinging to the trash can seemed like the only thing she could do. At the sound of his question, her fingers tensed uncontrollably. She forced a casual response. "Maybe it's just a cold. No big deal." "Answer me!" His voice turned sharp, sending a jolt through Madeline, and she murmured almost without thinking. "This afternoon, when you were… I'm just feeling a bit of chest tightness, weak limbs, and a touch of nausea. Typical cold symptoms." She did not bring up the hospital visit, quickly labeling it a cold to avoid any wild guesses. The timing and the symptoms lined up perfectly. 'So, it's because we caught a cold at the same time?' Trevon wondered. Madeline finally let go of her resistance. She deliberately avoided the divorce papers on the table and fetched the sour orange she had bought earlier from the fridge. Her mouth was unbearably uncomfortable, and she craved the relief of something sour. After all, she would need some strength in her hand to sign those papers. The moment she took out the sour orange, its tangy scent filled the room. Catching a glimpse of Trevon standing to the side, watching her with a frown, she hesitated before offering, "Want one?" Trevon looked away, clearly uninterested. Madeline chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. You're not into sour stuff." However, as she sliced into the vibrant sour orange and its juicy interior burst with a potent tangy aroma, Trevon seemed unable to look away. Madeline was about to take a bite when she noticed Trevon approaching. His towering presence felt like a wall closing in, making the kitchen feel smaller by the second. Instinctively, Madeline stepped back. "If you don't like it, then I'll just..." Before she could finish, Trevon was at the sink, lathering up with soap, washing his hands with deliberate care three times before reaching for a piece of the sour orange. He scrunched his forehead, eyeing the orange for a long moment before popping it into his mouth. Madeline's jaw dropped in astonishment. However, Trevon did not spit it out. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before looking at her seriously. "Next time, make sure the knife's washed three times, okay?" The urge to bite into that tangy orange slice was irresistible. Sure enough, the sour kick seemed to soothe his queasy stomach. It was not just some bug. His nausea had kicked in right after Madeline's, as if he was only sick because she was. What was up with that? Trevon made a mental note to get to the bottom of it. Madeline gave a simple "Oh" in response. They finished the orange together, a moment of closeness they had not felt in three years. After washing her hands, Madeline looked up at Trevon. Sharing that sour fruit seemed to have bridged the gap between them, if only a little. However, their journey together was nearing its end. She murmured, "I'll sign the divorce papers." It was like cashing out after three years. A million and five hundred thousand, and a house to her name. She was coming out ahead. When she was about to sign, Trevon snatched the papers away. "We'll add another house to the deal. Wait for the lawyer's final draft." Madeline nodded, still in a daze. Suddenly, Trevon's phone buzzed and Lydia's whiny voice came through as he picked up the call. "Trevon, when are you coming? I'm bored." Madeline gripped her pen so hard her thumb whitened, nearly snapping it. Trevon ended the call, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. Madeline stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. "How am I supposed to explain this to Grandma?" "We'll talk when I'm back," Trevon replied before the door slammed shut behind him. The house, once filled with life, echoed with emptiness. Madeline chuckled at herself, shook off the silence, and went to the kitchen to whip up some noodles. After all, she had to think about the little one growing inside her. A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Expecting Trevon, who might have forgotten something, she swung the door open only to be greeted by unwelcome faces. Madeline's warmth vanished. "What are you two doing here?" Cilix Sanders, her father, smiled and said, "You weren't picking up, so your mom and I thought we'd drop by." Her phone did show a string of missed calls. Ignoring their calls was nothing new, but their sudden visit was unexpected. "My mom's lost her mind, locked up in Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital. Did you forget to visit her, or did you forget she's there?" Skylar Lowe, Madeline's stepmother, stood beside Cilix in her flawless outfit. She looked nothing like someone who had toiled in the fields. However, her sharp and calculative eyes matched her biting tone. "Such disrespect! Where are your manners?" Madeline was furious. If she truly lacked manners, Skylar would have been long gone. It was Skylar's appearance, after all, that had tipped her mother over the edge. However, Madeline had been biding her time, collecting proof. They would all pay, eventually. Pushing down the bile, she asked coolly, "So, what brings you here?" "Let's talk inside," was all they said. Once they were in, Madeline poured water into two glasses, her hands steady as stone. Madeline's calm and compliant facade only fueled Skylar's ego. With an arrogant head tilt, she announced, "Your sister's back in town. It's time you end things with Trevon and give up your title as Mrs. Gibson to her!" Madeline fought the impulse to douse Skylar with water as she gripped the kettle firmly. "Give it up? I'm not following you." Madeline's gaze shifted to Cilix. "You told me when Trevon was in that coma, the company was strapped for cash. Marrying Trevon was the only way to afford my mom's medical bills. I married into the Gibson family for the sake of the Sanders family. How did Lydia end up taking my place as the daughter-in-law of the Gibson family?" Chapter 3 "I was looking out for the Sanders family too," Cilix said as he sipped his water. "The Sanders-Gibson family alliance is crucial. Three years by Trevon's side, and what? No kids, no hold on his heart, no benefits for the Sanders family. Now that Lydia's back, along with her bond with Trevon, these issues will vanish. I can even afford better care for your mother." Cilix's duplicity struck Madeline once more. Madeline countered, "Did you forget why Lydia left the country? Or do you think the Gibsons have forgotten too?" "That's why we're asking you to initiate the divorce with Trevon," Cilix replied. Madeline saw right through their plot. She would step aside, letting Lydia take the lead, and the Sanders family would reap all the rewards. After a tense silence, Madeline broke the ice. "I'm willing to divorce Trevon, but on one condition. I want my mom's shares—the ones she's entitled to." Cilix instantly became furious. Once upon a time, the Sanders family was a picture of unity. Cilix, who came from nothing, married Bella Ziegler—Madeline's mother—and quickly turned his fortune around with a garment factory. However, Bella paid a steep price, severing ties with her own family. It was not until Skylar—previously 'Jolene', with her kids in tow—showed up that Bella realized the magnitude of her mistake. She battled depression for years, and the strain of the revelation only deepened her illness. That was when Cilix dropped the divorce bomb. He played the bankruptcy card during the split, claiming all assets were tied up. Bella was left with scraps. However, once the divorce papers were signed, Cilix's business miraculously bounced back. Ever the opportunist, Cilix kept footing Bella's medical bills, basking in the glow of his newfound reputation. Madeline only pieced it all together as she grew up—her mother had been played. She had been nursing a plan to set things right ever since. The meeting ended with frosty treatment all around. Madeline shut the door behind them, collapsed onto the couch, and lost herself in the darkness outside the window. … Dawn's light crept into the room. Madeline shielded her eyes and took a moment to adjust before getting up reluctantly. Nausea washed over her in an unforgiving wave. Trevon had not come home all night. Madeline's emotions were a mess—resignation laced with a hint of disappointment. However, above all, there was relief. It was as if her decision to let go the day before had freed her from hope. Madeline sank back into the pillows. The click of the electronic lock signaled an arrival at the door. Madeline glanced up, and there was Lydia, swathed in designer elegance, striding in with a smile that could light up the room. "Madeline, it's been ages." Rising slowly, Madeline perched on the edge of the couch, her eyes a storm of loathing. "Who said you could come in? Leave!" Lydia's smile only grew. "Trevon sent me, of course. He spent last night at the hospital with me, then dashed off to work at dawn. He asked me to pick up a suit for him." A shadow crossed Madeline's face. So, Trevon was with Lydia last night. She had waited like a fool on that couch all night long, clinging to his promise. 'We'll talk when I get back.' "You're just like your mother, always the homewrecker," Madeline spat. Lydia's laughter rang out. "Who's the real homewrecker? It's the unloved one. Even the lock's code is my birthday. Trevon's heart is still with me. Madeline, you've been using my birthday to open this door for the past three years. That must sting, doesn't it?" Madeline's eyes flickered, her grip tightening on the blanket. She inhaled sharply before smiling mockingly. "Is technology that archaic where you come from? We've moved on to facial recognition, or fingerprints at the very least. Key codes are a thing of the past." Lydia's smile faltered, her composure slipping for a split second. "Outdated or not, Trevon's word is law." Madeline could not be bothered with petty squabble. Her nausea was getting worse. She gestured toward Trevon's bedroom. "His stuff's in there. Help yourself." With a smug grin, Lydia disappeared into the room and emerged moments later, a bundle of clothes in her arms. Before she took off, she sauntered over to Madeline, flashed her hand, and there it was—a dazzling diamond ring. There was also that cutesy pink bandage on her finger. "My mom says you're dragging your feet on the divorce—kinda funny, don't you think? Trevon's put a ring on it, so why embarrass yourself? Time to get a clue." She leaned in, whispering to Madeline, "Face it, you've never been able to outdo me in anything since we were kids." Old memories came rushing back. Her favorite things, her mentors, her dad, her very home—Lydia had snatched them all away with just a few words. Madeline squinted and swiftly yanked the bandage off Lydia's hand. "You've always been into taking my stuff, huh?" She eyed Lydia's pristine hand and tossed the bandage into the bin with a look of disgust. "Bandages are disposable. Get a new one, and it's as good as ever. However, you know what's really scary about a guy who's been down the aisle twice?" Madeline rose to her feet, locking eyes with Lydia as she smiled slyly. "It's the lingering lessons from his ex. His style, habits, tastes, thoughts—they're all tinged with the ghost of the woman before you. Chew on that. Good luck." "Madeline!" Ignoring her, Madeline grabbed a bag of clothes and thrust it into Lydia's arms. "So long, no need for goodbyes!" Behind the wheel on her way to work, Lydia smacked the steering wheel, Madeline's parting shot replaying in her head. The phone buzzed. Lydia answered with a huff. "What's up with the wake-up call?" Wren Naylor, Lydia's assistant, hesitated before speaking up with caution. "Ms. Sanders, the planning team wants to add an illustrator to the project. They've already picked someone out." "They've what now? Since when does planning get to call the shots on art hires? They really need to stay in their lane." Wren stayed quiet. Lydia bit back her frustration. "Alright, I'm heading to the office soon. I'll sort it out with them." Instead of going to her department when she arrived at the office, Lydia went to the top floor to drop off some clothes for Trevon. Trevon accepted the clothes, but his brow creased in confusion. Lydia felt a twinge of worry. "Something wrong with the clothes?" They were definitely not his usual brand. Madeline would not slip up like that. "Madeline wasn't there when you picked these up?" Realizing the brand mismatch, Lydia understood her mistake. Madeline's earlier words echoed in her head. Lydia bit her lip, looking hurt. "Madeline just handed me these and shooed me out when I arrived. You know she's never been fond of me." She sighed resignedly and continued, "Typical Madeline, knowing you're in a rush and still acting petty with me. Should I run to the store and grab you a new set?" Trevon cut her off. "Don't bother. You've got work to do." Lydia clammed up, stepping back into silence. Trevon let out a quiet sigh. "Don't sweat it. It's not your fault. Clothes are the least of our worries. We've got the Skylandia project to focus on." In just a week, Skylandia would unveil its magical realms to eager eyes, with artistry at its heart. Lydia, fresh from her hiatus, was steering that ship—the crown jewel of the year for Xystos Tech. She knew the drill, but duty called, and she stepped out with a promise to return for lunch. Madeline, alone then, rinsed a handful of cherry tomatoes, trying to quell the unease bubbling inside her. She scrolled through her phone, the barrage of prenatal check-ups looming large and daunting. Midway through her meticulous note-taking, the doorbell chimed. She opened the door to find Simon pulling a long face. Chapter 4 "Mr. Gibson sent me some clothes." Madeline raised an eyebrow. "Again?" Simon's eyes flickered with annoyance as he asked, "Why'd you send Mrs. Yagle's clothes?" Simon referred to Trevon's mom, Riley Yagle—a woman whose kindness was only matched by her absentmindedness. Madeline recalled the ill-fitting, off-brand clothes that Trevon probably ditched without a second thought. "Mr. Gibson says, 'Don't get snippy and hold things up,'" Simon relayed with a hint of sternness. Madeline could not help but chuckle, amused by his blind trust. "Lydia told Trevon I picked out the clothes?" Did Trevon need to believe everything Lydia said? Simon rushed her along. Madeline handed him a fresh set of clothes, but her grip lingered as she responded steadily. "Simon, you've been Trevon's right-hand man for what, three, four years now? Do you realize why you're still at the bottom rung, just an assistant? You're good at sizing people up by their titles, but that's not really a skill an assistant needs. Why don't you take a page from Mr. Harris's book?" Trevon did have a star assistant—Daniel Harris—who was so capable that he was sent overseas to handle big deals. That was when Simon got the call to step in. Simon's face went through a mixture of pale and flushed as he absorbed her criticism. Madeline, who was usually quiet, had just thrown shade in his face. He bit back his retort, finally huffing in annoyance and storming off. Madeline let out a soft laugh, brushing off the encounter. With visiting hours ticking closer, Madeline headed to Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital to see Bella. It was more of a wellness retreat than a hospital, nestled right next to Redenbaugh City's fanciest private clinic. Getting in was not easy, but thanks to the Gibson family pulling strings, Bella got a spot. Madeline wheeled her mom out into the courtyard, catching her up on the week's gossip and happenings. Bella was her usual self—unresponsive and staring off into space. Madeline sighed and took her mom's hand, resting it gently on her belly. "Mom, right here, there's a little one on the way. Even with Trevon talking about divorce, I'm keeping this baby. You've got to come back to us. Who will help me with this little one if you don't?" She nestled against Bella's legs, craving the comfort of her mother's presence. Unseen by Madeline, Bella's eyes flickered—a brief, almost missed flutter. "Madeline?" A voice, laced with surprise, called out for her. Madeline looked up to see a man in a lab coat looking her way. The sun was blinding, and Madeline squinted without recognizing the figure before her. There was something oddly familiar about the silhouette. It was not until he was close that she could see it was Caleb Jabs, her old college friend. With a warm smile, Caleb teased, "Madeline, can't you recognize an old friend after just three years?" He opened his arms for a hug, like nothing had changed. Madeline hesitated, then offered a hand for a handshake instead. Caleb's smile faltered, then returned. "Right, we're not on campus anymore." He shook her hand before releasing it, stealing a glance at the wedding ring on her finger. Through their chat, Madeline learned that he had just returned from overseas and that his uncle was running the local private hospital. Caleb nodded toward Bella with a slight smile. "And who is this?" Madeline's smile vanished. "My mom. She's been like this since she had a breakdown three years ago." A breakdown? It looked serious, as if she had lost all touch with the world. What could have caused it? Caleb pushed down his questions, his heart aching for Madeline. "These past three years must've been tough on you." Madeline seemed more grounded than in her college days, but her eyes were shadowed with concern. Madeline shook her head. "It's time for us to head back." She was not one to bare her soul to just anyone. As she rose to leave, she wobbled slightly. Caleb reached out to steady her. "You're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should get checked out." Madeline steadied herself and took a step back. "It's just low blood sugar. I'm fine." Caleb watched Madeline sidestep with a calm smile, not the least bit ruffled. "Back in college, you were always dealing with low blood sugar. Still battling that, huh? Skipped breakfast today?" He was already taking the wheelchair's handles as he spoke, and Madeline allowed it. They got Bella settled and swapped numbers. Then, Caleb pressed a chocolate bar into her hand. "For your sugar levels, have a bite." Madeline's laughter bubbled up. "Caleb, you still keep chocolate on you after all this time?" "Just a habit," he said with a chuckle. That little piece of chocolate seemed to bridge the gap that had grown between them. "How about lunch? It's already noon." Madeline bit her lip, uncertain. However, Caleb was already tugging her along. "There's this great little place I know nearby. You'll love it." Trevon managed to swing by the hospital after his meeting wrapped up. The doctors gave him a clean bill of health. They suggested bringing Madeline in, thinking she might be the key to why he felt off. He left the hospital with that thought, only to see Madeline and Caleb, all smiles, heading into a cozy diner. Madeline's smile was something new, something he had never seen, and it stopped him in his tracks. He took a moment before climbing into his car. From the driver's seat, Simon caught Trevon in the mirror. "Mr. Gibson, wasn't that Mrs. Gibson? Should we pick her up?" Trevon watched them disappear into the diner, a place he would never dream of entering. "No, let's not," he murmured. Simon arched an eyebrow, shot a look of faint scorn at the diner, and sped off. Trevon was reclining in the back seat, eyes closed, soaking in a moment of peace. A few minutes in, a wave of relief washed over him, leaving him feeling surprisingly refreshed. It took him a moment to realize that he was embodying Madeline's happiness. What could possibly be so special about that little shop to make her that cheerful? However, that sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles they served was exceptional—tangy and invigorating. It had been days since Madeline had enjoyed a meal so thoroughly. She even decided to get an extra serving to go. Caleb chuckled. "Noodles never taste as good reheated. Wait, didn't you love spicy food? What's with the switch?" Madeline smiled. "I haven't really switched. This is just that good." She was known for her love of spicy dishes, and even Trevon, the health nut, had found his tastes swayed by her. It was hard to argue with Madeline's culinary magic. Her cooking was irresistible to most. Back home, Madeline had barely set down her takeout when her phone rang. It was Yeneth Collins, her best friend. "Madeline, I've got some good and bad news." Feeling a bit worn out, Madeline sank into the couch. "Go on." "The good news is that you've been chosen to draw the new character for Skylandia. They've sent the contract over to you already." A spark of excitement flickered across Madeline's face as she reached for her laptop to check her email. "And the bad news?" Yeneth sighed heavily. "Lydia is the new art director for Skylandia. She just got the job today. I wouldn't have pushed you to take this gig if I'd known." Since marrying Trevon right after college, Madeline had not returned to the workforce, finding solace and passion in her art. Her style was distinctive, not exactly mainstream, with a focus on creating captivating illustrations. When Yeneth got involved with Skylandia, she thought Madeline's artwork was a perfect fit and put her name forward. Madeline smiled. "No way. The contract's terms are decent. Can't miss an opportunity of making money just because of her." She was always hustling for cash, especially with Bella's medical bills piling up. It meant biting her tongue whenever the Sanders family got tight-fisted. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" "Totally. I freelance under the name 'Lily Mora'. Who will connect the dots?" Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open as Trevon walked in. Chapter 5 Madeline's instinct was to snap her laptop shut. "Give me a second." She quickly ended the call and turned to face Trevon. "What's got you home at this hour?" Trevon eyed her hurried movements and washed his hands before replying, "Just needed to pick something up." Madeline responded with a noncommittal hum. His gaze landed on a nearby takeaway box. It was the sour beef and cabbage soup with noodles. It looked just like the one she had had for lunch. Was it really that tasty? A jolt of panic hit Madeline, and she blurted out, "It's for Yeneth, not me." Back when they were newlyweds, Madeline had grabbed some street sausages, and Trevon had gone into a tailspin, bombarding her with articles about the filth of street vendors and the dangers of eating out. Since then, she had avoided eating street food around him. However, she had slipped up and forgotten to stash the evidence. Trevon's chuckle was detached as his eyes drifted to a notebook on the table. Madeline's heart was pounding, and she pushed aside the wave of nausea to dash toward the notebook—her secret journal of conceive appointments. The last thing she wanted was for Trevon to find out she was expecting. However, Trevon was quicker. He stretched out his arm and lifted the notebook from Madeline's reach. Without regard for her protests, he calmly flipped it open. The 'Prenatal Appointment Schedule' header stared back at him. He raised an eyebrow, his cool gaze landing on Madeline. Madeline felt her heart jump into her throat. "Is this for Yeneth, too?" Trevon asked. "Huh?" Caught off guard, Madeline quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Yeneth's getting married, thinking about having kids, so I was helping her research." Trevon's suspicion did not wane. "So, why the panic?" Madeline's forehead creased. She let go of the notebook and looked away. "I didn't want you to think I was up to something." Madeline's beauty was marred by her recent illness. Her pale face was then tinged with the flush of sickness, making her look even more vulnerable. Trevon felt a twinge in his chest, and his annoyance grew. Her cold was messing with his work. He tossed the notebook back to Madeline. "I don't have time for this. You should be resting, not running around. If you show up to a divorce proceeding looking like this, people will think I'm the bad guy." Madeline silently clutched the notebook with her head bowed. … At the steakhouse, Lydia stared at her barely touched steak, her mood souring by the minute. When she heard Trevon returned to the Angelic Garden Residence, her annoyance turned to outright anger. "Madeline, that witch!" She whipped out her phone and dialed Skylar's number. Madeline had just reviewed the casting call from Skylandia, wrapped up her draft, and was stretching after a long day when Skylar's call came through. "Get over here tonight. If you don't show up, I'm tossing your mom's stuff." The line went dead. Madeline thought she had taken care of all Bella's things, so what could possibly be left at the Sanders' place? She could not risk it, so she hailed a cab and headed over. The Sanders' mansion was ablaze with lights, screaming new money from every gilded corner. Madeline stood at the entrance, taking in the garish display, and figured Skylar was behind it. Skylar greeted her with a grin, tugging her inside. "I just knew you'd come." Madeline jerked her hand away. "Cut the act, Skylar. There's no one else here. I did what you asked, so where's my mom's stuff?" Chapter 6 Before Skylar could answer, a sharp snap echoed from the side. "Madeline, watch how you talk to my mom!" It was Yale Sanders, Lydia's little brother. With his shoulder-length purple hair and arms sleeved in tattoos, he looked every bit the wannabe gangster. He had been coddled by Skylar all his life, and with the Sanders' wealth, he had gathered a gang of street toughs to back him up. Madeline did not expect him to be there but gave him a cool look and brushed him off. Just then, Cilix descended the stairs, his voice cutting through the air. "Yale!" Yale sulked, his lips puckered as he flopped onto the sofa, clearly annoyed. Cilix motioned for Madeline to take a seat at the dining table. "It's not every day we get your sister back home. I figured a family dinner was in order. Have a seat, will you? I had Mom whip up your favorite fish tacos." Skylar quickly dished some out for her. The oily sheen and the subtle fishy scent made Madeline wrinkle her nose and push the plate away. "I caught a cold and lost my appetite. I'm just here to grab a few things, and I'll be out." Cilix squinted, and Skylar, unable to contain herself, plopped down next to Madeline. "When are you planning on divorcing Trevon, huh? Your dad and I have already scoped out a new guy for you. He's ready to tie the knot and won't wait forever." A resigned feeling washed over Madeline. With a mocking smile, she murmured, "Really? Who's this wonderful match?" Skylar perked up and replied, "He's from a solid family. One of your dad's business partners. The guy owns a string of factories. Marry him, and you'll be the boss. They wouldn't even look twice at a divorcee if it wasn't for your dad's connections." She made it sound like a fairy tale. Madeline cut to the chase. "The owner of these factories? How old?" Skylar hesitated, then chuckled. "Not too old. He's just a bit over forty and in the prime of his life. It'll be your second marriage, so you can't afford to be choosy. Plus, they've promised to cut your dad a deal if you marry in. Consider it a tribute to your mom." Three years had passed, and Madeline's disdain for her family's ways was as strong as ever. She glared at Cilix. "Over forty? You're okay with this, being not much older yourself?" Cilix looked pained as he spoke, "Skylar's just trying to do what's best for you. Remarrying and bringing your mom into the mix, finding someone okay with that wasn't easy. Skylar really went out of her way for you." Skylar nodded earnestly. It had indeed been a challenge. Madeline needed to be married off and kept far away to avoid causing Lydia any more headaches. "Don't worry, the guy doesn't have kids. Everything in the future will be yours and your children's. It's a real stroke of luck." Madeline suddenly chimed in, "It's true. These kinds of terms are hard to come by. You've really outdone yourself, but…" Breaking from her usual composure, Madeline locked eyes with Cilix. "I was clear yesterday. I just want what my mom is entitled to—her shares. Those shares are peanuts compared to being Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family." Cilix remained expressionless, but his eyes were calculative. "Your mom's shares?" Thinking she had swayed Cilix, Skylar piped up in a shrill tone. "What shares does her mother have? The Sanders family fortune is all thanks to me and Cilix. It's got nothing to do with your loony mom." Madeline's glare whipped towards Skylar, sharp enough to shut her up. "Apologize." "Why should I? Your mom's the crazy one." Without warning, a cup of scalding water splashed across Skylar's face, and she let out a scream. However, before Madeline could react, she was yanked back forcefully. A second later, she was punched in the face. "You owe her an apology!" Chapter 7 Each word Yale spat was accompanied by a punch landing on Madeline. Madeline shielded herself with her purse, narrowly avoiding a serious injury. Blinded by anger, she had not thought things through, never imagining Yale would actually hit her. Conceived had left her weak, and she could only dodge Yale's vicious blows in a clumsy dance of desperation. The Sanders family seemed petrified by the spectacle, each too scared to even twitch. Cilix wanted to speak, but Skylar cut him off. "What's Yale got, a little muscle? Let her take a hit. It might teach her to listen." Cilix's face darkened as he sat back down. She had written her dad off long ago, but the sting of disappointment was as sharp as ever. As Yale moved in again, Madeline knew she was on her own. With a swift kick, she toppled a chair and snatched a fruit knife from the table, aiming it straight at him. "One more step, and I swear I'll stab you!" Yale, thrown off by the chair, nearly slipped. He wiped his mouth and sneered. "You think you've got the guts?" Knife in hand, Madeline's face was ghostly, but her eyes blazed with defiance, "Try me. I'm still Mrs. Gibson of the Gibson family. If I take you down, they'll make sure it never sees the light of day." Her gaze flicked to Cilix. "You think our dad's got the spine to cross the Gibsons for you?" Yale did not budge. Skylar stepped forward with a nervous chuckle. "Come on, we're family. Knives? Really? Madeline, put it down." Madeline looked at Skylar icily and aimed the knife at her. "Stay back." Skylar froze, then looked pleadingly at Cilix. Cilix broke the silence. "Madeline, what's going on?" Madeline stood there with a cold expression, ignoring the blood that had started to drip from the corner of her mouth. She bit her lip, refusing to say a word. The recent scuffle had taken a toll on her, leaving her with a heavy feeling in her chest. She was afraid she would throw up if she opened her mouth. However, she was determined not to let them see her weakness. Amid the tense moment, the nanny burst in with unexpected joy. "Mr. Gibson and Ms. Sanders have arrived!" The pair entered the room. Trevon's face was a mask of seriousness, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lydia, catching sight of the knife in Madeline's grip, let out a sharp cry. "Madeline! Why are you holding a knife? What are you planning to do?" Cilix rose swiftly to welcome Trevon. "Mr. Gibson, please come in. Let's sit and talk. Madeline, put that knife down now." With a glance at Trevon, Madeline reluctantly set the knife aside. Skylar exhaled in relief and grumbled, "This is all Madeline's doing, causing a scene for no reason. Since when do we bring knives into family disputes?" Madeline inhaled deeply, pushing down the wave of nausea, and retorted with a frosty laugh. "So, now it's all my fault, just like that? I'm trying to do the right thing here, and I'm still the one to blame?" "Is this enough for you?" Trevon's voice, frosty and laced with anger, cut through the room. He had been feeling sick to his stomach the whole way there. That sensation had become all too familiar in the last couple of days, and he did not need to guess—it was Madeline's doing again. He had warned her just at lunchtime to take it easy, but what did she do? She ran off to her family's home to pick a fight, knife in hand. She might not be bothered by it, but he was fed up. The room fell silent. Madeline looked at him in disbelief. Was he really going to blame her without even asking why? Trevon had no interest in dragging out the conversation. He grabbed Madeline's hand and led her away with urgency. Madeline stumbled as he pulled her along, a sharp pain throbbing in her heart. Lydia tried to keep up, her voice tinged with concern. "Trevon, you haven't eaten yet." He barely paused, his voice dismissive. "Some other time." With that, he ushered Madeline into the car and shut the door behind her.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=10922&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449730410_469240799085293_8357185738494594337_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=gEmRzxMzQC8Q7kNvgEERANo&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ai9hqgQauan48QeGRLX3YCY&oh=00_AYBXoXeroEMpOi_lS6C3PIOVL1E0-3wIibEIokHOwLpmLg&oe=6707C193	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete

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