เข้าสู่ระบบแชร์
Tomorrow, we get what we want!
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2025-09-13 23:31:37
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Game over. An old enemy in town.
Third person’s POVThe bar is dim, smoky, the kind of place where deals are whispered over clinking glasses and shadows cling to the corners like old ghosts. Marco Castello leans against the polished wood of the bar, his tailored jacket dark against the muted lights, his eyes scanning the room with the patience of a predator. Every detail matters, every movement calculated. He has arrived in this city with one goal: to take down Logan Rossi, to dismantle the Santoro-Rossi empire, and to make Madeline Santoro, Donna Madeline, and her children pay for the power they wield.He doesn’t need to guess where to start. News travels fast, and Marco has been watching, reading, absorbing every scrap of information about Logan’s engagement, the public revelation of his children, the constant media storm that surrounds Michelle Morris. He knows about Logan’s past with her, the subtle ways their lives brushed before Madeline entered the picture, and Marco understands instantly that Michelle could b
Game over. I want to talk about Logan
Michelle’s POVI walk to the front door of the Estate. The guards know me and let me in. My pulse is steady, but beneath it simmers the anticipation, the thrill of confrontation wrapped in the careful guise of civility. I’ve rehearsed this a hundred times, every word, every gesture, every carefully measured glance. Madeline, Maddie, as Logan calls her, is in there, probably unaware that I’ve arrived, probably blissfully confident that Logan has chosen her entirely. That’s the confidence I aim to test, to crack, even just a little.I knock lightly, the sound polite and almost tentative, though every inch of me radiates control, dominance, and purpose. The door opens, and there she is, Madeline O’Connor Santora, standing in the light from the wide window, her posture impeccable, her gaze steady, her presence commanding in a way that makes the air itself seem to bend. She’s beautiful, yes, but more than that, she radiates confidence and authority. I remind myself to keep my smile measure
Game over. I will not give up.
Michelle’s POVThe city blurs past the windows of my car, a kaleidoscope of traffic lights, taillights, and neon signs reflecting off the slick asphalt from last night’s rain. My hands grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary, the heat from my anger still lingering beneath my skin, though it’s now mingled with the cold, sharp clarity. Every time I replay his words, the finality in his tone, it’s like a weight settling on my chest, heavy but not crushing, at least not yet. The truth is, I can feel the noise of the city vibrating through me, and I know that sitting here, behind this wheel, I have to figure out what comes next.The office, the confrontation, the sting of seeing his certainty that Madeline is his future, those images play behind my eyes like a looping film I can’t pause. Yet even as my chest tightens with the hurt and betrayal, I force myself to take in the view of the streets, to feel the buzz of the engine, the rush of tyres on wet asphalt, because if I don’t focu
Game over. You humiliated me!
Michelle’s POVThe sound of my heels clicking against the marble floor carried through the lobby like a drumbeat announcing war, sharp and deliberate, every step reminding me of the fire in my chest and the fury running hot through my veins. I knew the eyes that turned toward me weren’t only drawn by recognition, though there was plenty of that, but also by curiosity, by the scent of a storm brewing around me, because news travelled fast in this city and everybody had already seen the headlines, the photographs, the smiling faces of Logan Rossi and Maddie O’Connor with two children no one had known about, two children who should never have been hidden from the world. My world. So I walked through that lobby with my head held high and my chin tilted just enough to suggest that I was untouchable, even though inside my heart was rattling against my ribs like a bird trapped in a cage.Outside, beyond the glass doors, the vultures waited, photographers, gossip reporters, all those who fed
Game over. Send them away!
Madeline’s POVThe house is finally quiet, the kind of quiet that follows children’s laughter once it has softened into steady breaths and the gentle shifting of sleep. Connor’s drawings still litter the coffee table, crayons scattered like fallen leaves across the wood, while Carmen’s small shoes lie abandoned by the couch, one tipped on its side as if she had kicked it off mid-run. These little traces of them fill the room with a life so different from the one Logan and I stepped away from only hours ago, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the comfort of it, my body curled against the cushions, my mind heavy but unwilling to rest.Logan joins me not long after, his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his presence filling the space the way it always does, quiet and commanding, steady as a mountain. He doesn’t speak right away; he sits beside me, his hand finding mine, his thumb moving in slow, absent-minded circles against my skin. The touch steadies me, though it also remi
Game over. Home!
Madeline’s POVComing home tonight feels heavier than it ever has before, as if the door we step through is not only the entrance to our house but the fragile line between two worlds, the dark one we left behind at the ocean, where blood and salt mixed with screams, and this bright one, where little hands and innocent questions wait for me. It feels strange to stand here with my heart still beating to the rhythm of waves crashing and sharks circling, yet to hear laughter and footsteps approaching, to be met not with fear but with joy.The moment the door clicks shut behind us, there is no time to breathe before two familiar voices ring out, high and eager, calling for us as if we have been gone much longer than a single night. Connor bursts into the hall first, so fast his sock-covered feet almost slide out from under him, his face bright with excitement and his small body colliding into mine with enough force to nearly knock me back. He clings to me with his whole being, arms around
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