Novels by MAYREE

Chapter 62 — AlessandreFor a moment, he said nothing.Not because he didn’t know what to say.But because once he did—There was no going back.Ophelia stood across from him, shaken, eyes wide, fear barely contained beneath the anger she was still trying to hold onto.She deserved the truth.He had denied her that long enough.---Alessandre exhaled slowly, then turned toward the far wall of the office.To anyone else, it looked like nothing.Just glass.Seamless. Untouched.But he reached for it anyway.Pressed his hand flat against the surface.A soft click echoed.Then—The wall shifted.Sliding open silently to reveal a hidden panel behind it.Ophelia froze.“What… is that?”He didn’t answer.Just stepped aside.Letting her see.---Inside—A secure system.Separate from everything else.Dark screens.Cold hardware.Untouched by whatever had breached the main network.Ophelia’s breath caught.“You had this the whole time?”“Yes.”Her eyes snapped to his.“And you didn’t think to

OpheliaThe doors locked with a heavy, echoing click.It sounded final.Like something closing in.Ophelia’s pulse spiked as she turned toward Alessandre. “You locked us in.”“I locked them out,” he corrected, already moving.“That doesn’t make me feel better.”“It’s not supposed to.”Of course it wasn’t.Nothing about tonight was.---The screen still played.That video.Her eyes kept dragging back to it no matter how hard she tried to look away.Them.Too close.Too real.Too exposed.“This can’t go out,” she said, her voice tight. “Alessandre, this will destroy everything—”“I know.”“Do you?” she snapped. “Because this isn’t just reputation anymore. This is—this is—”“Leverage,” he finished.The word hit like a slap.She stared at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”“I am,” he said calmly. “More than you think.”“Then why do you sound like you expected this?”A pause.Too long.Her stomach dropped.“…You did, didn’t you?”Alessandre didn’t answer immediately.And that silence

AlessandreTwo hours.That was the window.Not enough time to clean it.Not enough time to bury it.Just enough time to choose how it explodes.Alessandre moved fast.“Get in the car,” he said, already pulling Ophelia toward his.“What about—”“They’re done,” he cut in, nodding once toward the man still pinned against the vehicle. “He was a message, not the threat.”That alone told her everything.This wasn’t over.It hadn’t even started.---The engine roared to life as they sped off.Ophelia sat rigid beside him, her phone still in her hand like it might burn through her skin.“Two hours,” she said under her breath. “Two hours and my life is over.”“No,” Alessandre said flatly. “Two hours before they think it is.”Her head snapped toward him.“That’s not reassuring.”“It’s not meant to be.”His eyes stayed on the road.Sharp. Focused. Calculating.Because this—This was familiar territory.Pressure.Control.Timing.War.---“They want you reactive,” he continued. “They want you des

OpheliaHer hands shook but she didn’t drop the phone.She couldn’t.It was like her body understood before her mind did… that if she let go, everything would shatter faster.“This isn’t real,” she whispered.But it was.The video kept replaying.Her face. Her voice.Except it wasn’t what she remembered.It was edited. Twisted. Rearranged into something ugly.Something dangerous.“I never said that…” her voice cracked. “I never”“You don’t need to,” Alessandre said, his tone low, controlled. “They made it look like you did.”Her chest tightened painfully.The clip cut again.Now it showed her standing at a press event weeks ago.A real one.But the audio “they’re corrupt. Every last one of them. And I’ll make sure they burn.”Her breath hitched violently.“No…”She remembered that day.She remembered exactly what she said.And it wasn’t that.“This is fake,” she said quickly, almost desperately. “It’s editedthis is illegal”“It doesn’t matter,” Alessandre cut in.That snapped somethi

The night air cut like glass cold, precise, unforgiving. Perfect. Alessandre moved forward with deliberate calm, every step controlled, as if he weren’t standing in the open with a potential threat five feet away. As if this were just another negotiation. The black car’s driver door creaked open. A man stepped out tall, broad, forgettable in the way trained men often were. But Alessandre didn’t see “forgettable.” He saw the details: the stance, the pause, the right hand hovering too close to his jacket. Weapon. Predictable. “Wrong move,” Alessandre said evenly. The man said nothing. Didn’t advance. Good. Not reckless. Just disciplined. “Walk away,” Alessandre continued, voice low but sharp enough to carry. “You’re out of your depth.” A faint smirk touched the man’s lips. “Doesn’t look like it.” Alessandre’s expression didn’t change, but internally, he recalibrated. Not just a driver. Confidence like that came from backing real backing. “Who sent you?” Alessandre asked. The man tilted

OpheliaThe city blurred.Lights streaked past in sharp lines of gold and white, but Ophelia barely registered any of it. Her entire focus had narrowed to one thingThe car behind them.Closer now.Too close.Her pulse thundered in her ears, but her hands stayed steady on the wheel. Barely.Beside her, Alessandre’s car moved in perfect sync, gliding through traffic like he controlled the road itself.“Maintain speed,” his voice came through the phone, low and controlled. “Don’t try anything sudden.”“I wasn’t planning to,” she snapped, though her grip tightened slightly.The black car surged forward again.Closer.Aggressive now.Not hiding anymore.“They’re gaining,” she said.“I see it.”Of course he did.He always saw everything.“Who are they?” she demanded.A beat.Too long.Her stomach twisted.“Alessandre“Drive,” he cut in. “We’ll talk after.”Her jaw clenched.“You keep saying that.”“And you keep asking questions that will get you distracted.”“Maybe I deserve answers!”“An