CHAPTER 116 — VILLAIN IN THEIR STORY LARRY’S POVI had just grabbed my keys when I saw him — leaning against the hood of my car like he owned the damn thing.Richard.Same lazy smirk, same dark shades, same attitude that always screamed I know something you don’t.“Richard?” I blinked. “It’s too early for your nonsense, man.”He pushed off the car, his expression sharpening. “Early? Bro, you’ve been dodging me for days. Thought I’d find you before you disappear into another meeting.”“I wasn’t dodging—”He cut me off with a raised brow. “Then let’s talk. Five minutes. In the car. I’ll drive.”I hesitated, glancing at the door behind me. I could still hear the faint hum of Brandy’s playlist inside. She was fully awake now, maybe sipping tea, probably scrolling through those toxic posts about us again.“Come on, Larry,” Richard said, softer this time. “You look like a man carrying ghosts. Let’s go.”I sighed. “Fine. But five minutes.”He smirked. “That’s all I need.”We slid into the
CHAPTER 115 — GOLDEN MORNING AFTER BRANDY’S POVThe internet’s been doing what it does best—running its mouth.Apparently, I “faked” my own accident.Cute. Real cute.Some wannabe detectives on Instagram are convinced I staged the whole thing for clout. Others, the extra dramatic ones, say I “slithered” my way into my late husband rich friend’s love life like some kind of scandalous serpent. Honestly, the creativity is impressive.But me? I stopped caring about what people say the moment I realized people will always say. They’ll pick a story, twist it until it bleeds, and sell it for likes.Let them talk.The only thing that mattered this morning was the sunlight filtering through the cream curtains, soft and golden, kissing my skin. The bed was warm, my bandaged arm didn’t ache as much, and for once—my heart felt steady.We left the hospital yesterday. Larry insisted on carrying my overnight bag himself, practically treating me like I was made of glass. Every time I tried to help,
CHAPTER 114 — TOTAL DINNER DRAMAMAYA’S POVWait…No freaking way.My breath snagged halfway up my throat.That face—those dark, unreadable eyes—sharp jawline, tailored black suit that fit like it was stitched directly onto his skin.Aleksander Thorn.Or, as my traumatized nervous system remembered him—the stranger who grabbed my waist in the middle of a boutique.My heels wobbled against the marble floor.This couldn’t be real.Out of all the people Damian could’ve picked for his ridiculous “pretend relationship” stunt, it had to be him?The man who thought I was someone else?Who practically caged me with his presence in public like he owned the air I breathed?God, the universe had jokes tonight.His gaze locked on mine the moment he stepped inside.The air shifted—tighter, heavier, like the room forgot how to circulate oxygen.For a long, blistering second, neither of us spoke.Then his jaw clenched, and that quiet, almost disbelieving voice rolled out, low and calm.“You.”My lip
CHAPTER 113 — THE DINNERMAYA'S POVI stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror, fingers grazing the smooth black fabric hugging my curves. Black. Always black. Always sharp. Always me. And yet… my heart refused to cooperate. It wasn’t even Aleksander I was nervous about. Nope. Not him. Not really.It was Grace. And Xves. And that goddamn tightrope I was walking between pretending I had a boyfriend and trying not to fall apart in front of everyone.Why was I feeling like this? Like what exactly? I asked myself.Grace was just… Grace. My friend, nothing more. And Xves… my bodyguard. My irritating, infuriating, infuriatingly perceptive bodyguard. He should have been stationed outside like I ordered—guards on every potential point of danger, perimeter secured—but no. He was going to be there. Everywhere. Watching. Judging. Maybe silently plotting to tell me how reckless I was... just as that pesky "Mr know it all" Damian had ordered.Speaking of the devil… my phone buzzed.I hes
CHAPTER 112 — JUST A FRIEND MAYA'S POVI blinked, heart skipping a beat. A visitor? At this hour? My mind ran through possibilities—Damian sending someone, a nosy journalist, security alert? No. My gut told me… something else. Something personal.I straightened my shoulders, trying to mask my racing thoughts with an air of control. “Who?” I demanded.The maid shifted uncomfortably, clearly nervous. “Uh… I wasn’t given a name, ma’am. Just… you should see them yourself.”I let out a slow breath, rubbing my temples. The words “see them yourself” echoed like a challenge. “Fine,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Lead the way.”I followed her down the hallway, each step echoing sharply against the polished marble floors. My heart pounded, not from fear, but anticipation. Every nerve in my body screamed caution. Act natural. Glamorous. Controlled. But my mind betrayed me, spinning scenarios, imagining the worst, rehearsing the lines I’d never get to say.We stopped at the parlor. The maid o
CHAPTER 111— PREPARE FOR HIM “Yes. That is exactly what you’re supposed to do. Not because I told you, not because the city will hate her, not because your reputation will recover—but because you, Larry Jonathan, deserve a life that isn’t defined by chaos and deceit.”I felt the words hit like a slap. Divorce her. Me. After everything. After the fights, the stolen moments, the mess I’d buried inside myself for years… she was telling me to cut it all off.“You’re telling me… you want me to…” My voice trailed off, heavy with disbelief.“Yes,” she said, voice cold but firm. “Larry. Cut the cord. Walk away. Stop dying a little each day for someone who would never do the same for you. Stop apologizing for a woman who thrives on breaking you down. Divorce Maya Jonathan. Today. Now. Before the world finishes what she started.”I swallowed hard. My mind screamed, my heart thumped like a drumline in war. I wanted to argue, to fight, to tell her I couldn’t, that I wouldn’t, that I… But the tru