Lahat ng Kabanata ng Mommy, I've found daddy.: Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

Miss Genevieve's POVThe voice of Madame Browne still echoed in my head, like some ringing bell that would never stop. "You've got 24 hours, Genevieve. If this event isn't back in our hands, I'll make sure you regret ever owing me." It sent shivers down my spine, but not because of fear-because of rage. How dare Ella think she could relieve me? Me, Miss Genevieve, from that assistant role she was so desperately unfit for in the first place? The audacity. I gritted my teeth and clutched the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking with the pressure of my hands.I hated Ella Rocci. That little nurse didn't know who she was dealing with. She thought that firing me would get rid of me? Oh, sweetheart, you just threw the first punch. Now it's my turn.I pulled my car into the parking lot of a small, grimy coffee shop that sat on the corner of a street most people would avoid. It was just the place for the kind of conversation I needed to have. Sliding my sunglasses on, I stepped out, t

STONE'S POVI leaned against my motorcycle, my gaze fixed on the McKinney estate. She'd stepped out of the front door just minutes ago, head held high, trying to look unbothered. But I knew better. I'd seen that kind of nervous energy a hundred times before.Ella Rocci. The woman who thought she could stand up to people far more dangerous than her.I watched her climb into the car. She hadn't noticed me-most people never did until it was too late. I swung my leg over the bike, the engine rumbling low beneath me, and followed from a safe distance, weaving through traffic with ease.She wasn't going very far. The florist. Of course. I smirked to myself under my helmet. Miss Genevieve had been right-Ella wasn't just a thorn in Madame Browne's side, she was dangerously obstinate. But no amount of determination was going to save her from what was coming.I parked a block away from the vendor's shop, keeping to the shadows as I watched her step inside. She was easy to track-too easy. A woma

MISS GENEVIEVE'S POVThe door closed behind me, and I was taken down a very dimly lit hallway by the receptionist. She walked at a rapid pace, her hands fidgeting at her sides as if she knew she'd made a horrific mistake by letting me past. Maybe she had. That was probably beside the point at this stage. Everyone's got a price-just hers happened to be set low enough that I could pay it.She walked over to a door that had a sign on it, which read "Manager" and stepped aside, her voice soft. "He is in there. I will go let him know you are here.""No need," I said brusquely and pushed past her to open the door myself, not waiting for an invitation.The manager was distracted, looking up at the neat stack of papers on his desk. Probably middle-aged, around the mid-fifties at most, with a receding hairline and eyes which sized everything in terms of potential profitability, I knew I could expect him to be no less a man who wouldn't go for threats but would bow over at the right incentive.

SANDRA'S POVThe weight of my guilt sat heavy upon my chest as I sat at my desk, watching Ella walk out the door. She didn't have a single inkling of what was barreling her way, and part of me hated that I had even a small part in it. I wasn't like this-I wasn't the kind to get pulled into some scheme of someone else's. At least, I never used to be. But Miss Genevieve had made sure to blur those lines. And now here I was, right in the middle of something I had no business being involved in.Of course, when Genevieve first reached out, I thought it was a friendly gesture. We'd known each other long enough-we knew the type of woman she was: ambitious, calculating, a smile that was more of a weapon than a pleasantry. We'd crossed paths in the industry before, though we'd never been close. Honestly, I tried to avoid her whenever I could.But Genevieve didn't come knocking unless she wanted something, and this time was no different.I remembered the phone call like it had just happened-her

ELLA'S POVThe day was weighed down a bit more than I had anticipated, and no matter how many deep breaths I took, I couldn't shake that feeling that something was off. I sat at the window in the office of the event planner, my fingers tapping rhythmically on the arm of the chair. The soft hum of conversation from the receptionist's desk filled the air, but my mind wandered elsewhere. Something about today gnawed at me, like a splinter I couldn't reach.It was probably the pressure. I mean, how could it not be? Madame Browne had thrown every possible obstacle in my way, from delayed vendors to last-minute changes. She wasn't trying to make this event hard; she wanted me to fail.I hit the screen once more, refreshing the log of missed calls. I had tried Xavier earlier in the hope of hearing his voice, but the call went straight to his assistant, who gave me a vague reply about him being busy. No surprise there. Xavier was always busy, but somewhere inside, a part of me hoped he would