บททั้งหมดของ Hate Me, Desire Me: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

TIARA MCKENZIES' POINT OF VIEWThe Montreals’ estate was unrecognizable, its grandeur reduced to ash and rubble. Smoke hung in the air, curling lazily around the twisted remnants of what had once been a symbol of untouchable power. Fires flickered along the edges of the property, casting long, flickering shadows across the carnage.My boots crunched over shattered glass and debris as I stepped through the wreckage. Every movement felt like it required twice the effort, my body weighed down by exhaustion that seeped into my very bones. The adrenaline that had carried me through the night was long gone, leaving behind an ache that felt as much emotional as it was physical.The air was heavy, choking, carrying the mingling scents of gunpowder, smoke, and blood. Agents moved with quiet efficiency around me, their faces grim but focused. They secured the remaining captives, cataloged the Montreals' confiscated possessions, and tagged bodies with emotionless precision.“Grey, over.”Alona’s

TIARA MCKENZIES' POINT OF VIEWFor the first time in what felt like forever, there was no weight pressing down on my chest. No restless overthinking. No sharp pang of guilt clawing at my ribs.Just warmth.I had been so deep in sleep that I hadn't even felt Eli move me to the bed. The exhaustion had swallowed me whole, and now, waking up, I found his arms wrapped around me, his steady breathing syncing with mine as we lay in bed. The faint glow of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden hues across the sheets. His warmth seeped into my skin, grounding me in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.I blinked slowly, taking in the peaceful rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand rested lightly against my waist as if afraid I’d slip away if he let go. His grip was secure but gentle, as if holding on too tightly might shatter whatever fragile peace we had found in the quiet.I listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart against my ear,

TIARA MCKENZIES' POINT OF VIEWI stood frozen outside his office, my fingers trembling as I clutched the folder of documents I never intended to open in front of him. The hallway felt colder than I remembered, sterile and distant, like every second I stood there chipped away at my nerve. I'd begged Eli's secretary, something I never thought I'd do, but she barely hesitated. She recognized me instantly, offered a polite smile, and buzzed me through without a word.Everyone still thought we were fine. But I was about to break whatever illusion was left.As the door clicked shut behind me, my throat dried out, and all the rehearsed words dissolved like smoke. My palms were damp, my chest tight.Eli stood by the tall office window, dark suit pristine, back straight, gaze distant as the city skyline framed him like a painting. For one agonizing second, I saw the boy I used to know. And then he turned.Now, I wasn't sure if I had the right to remember it at all.His expression didn't waver.

TIARA MCKENZIES' POINT OF VIEWThe Manila sunset bled gold across my office windows, spilling over the endless sea of blueprints and investment reports stacked on my desk. I sipped from my now-lukewarm mug of coffee, the bitter taste grounding me as I flipped through fabric samples, market trend reports, and investment proposals for the upcoming spring collection under Sola Fritz. Every detail needed to be perfect. The fabric texture, stitching quality, logistics partnerships, marketing rollout schedules. I cross-referenced financial statements with supplier quotes, making quick annotations with a red pen, muttering corrections under my breath. There was a steady rhythm to it: review, correct, approve, repeat. My fingers flew over the keyboard, cross-referencing supplier invoices with updated logistical contracts. Digital swatches flickered across the screen, projected beside real samples laid out meticulously across my desk. I glanced up briefly at the spreadsheet pinned on the wall,

TIARA MCKENZIES' POINT OF VIEWShanghai's skyline pierced the clouds like blades of steel. Towering high-rises gleamed beneath a cloudy afternoon sun as my flight descended onto the tarmac. The transition through customs had been seamless. Just another perk of flying under an alias reinforced by layers of digital camouflage and legal paperwork. A black car waited for me at the arrivals gate, sleek and spotless. I offered only a brief nod to the driver before sliding into the back seat, my silicone mask warm against my skin, topped with a silk scarf and oversized tinted glasses.The ride through the city was a blur of glass towers, neon reflections, and electric signs. My coat was crisp and belted, my gloves tight. I played the part well. Power. Authority. Intimidation. The weight of it never lessened, no matter how many times I wore the armor.We pulled up to the hotel, one of the city's most opulent, shielded behind tall hedges and tinted windows. Inside, the concierge greeted me wit