Semua Bab TRAPPED WITH MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND: Bab 211 - Bab 220

As I blended the mangosteens with the coconut milk and honey, I couldn't help but glance toward the living room where Bridgette sat, looking like a curious child waiting for her treat. Her swollen belly peeked out slightly from under her shirt, and a small smile played on her lips despite the tear stains on her cheeks.The sound of the blender roaring to life made her jump slightly. She leaned over the back of the couch to watch me.“You really flew all the way to Thailand for this?” she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.“Would you expect anything less?” I replied, pouring the smoothie into a glass. “When you married me, you didn’t just get a husband. You got a personal butler, a chef, and apparently, a world-traveling fruit hunter.”She giggled, her mood already lifted. “You’re ridiculous, Thiago.”I walked over and handed her the smoothie. “Taste it and tell me if it was worth it.”She took a small sip, and her eyes lit up immediately. “Oh my gosh, this is exactly how I remember

The next day began with sunlight streaming through the curtains. Bridgette was still curled up in bed, her hair a cascade of soft waves across the pillow. I slipped out quietly, determined to make her morning special.In the kitchen, I found myself chopping fruit for a smoothie—mangoes, strawberries, and a hint of mint, just the way she liked it. Cooking was never my forte, but for Bridgette, I’d learned.As I brought the tray into the bedroom, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I said, placing the tray beside her.She blinked at me, then at the tray. “Breakfast in bed? What did I do to deserve this?”I grinned. “For putting up with me, mostly.”Her laughter was the sweetest sound.Later in the afternoon, I had a surprise planned.“Where are we going?” she asked as I led her outside.“You’ll see,” I said, guiding her to the car.We drove to a property just outside Monaco, where I’d been secretly working on something special—a nursery designed specifical

As Bridgette's pregnancy progressed, I became increasingly worried about leaving her alone while I went to work. Though she insisted she was fine, I knew better. She was stubborn but vulnerable, and I wasn’t about to take any chances.So, I decided to hire someone to look after her—a personal maid who could help with errands and chores, making Bridgette’s life easier while I wasn’t around.The morning I introduced the new maid, Clarisse, things didn’t exactly go as planned.When I brought Clarisse to the house, I was all smiles. "Bridgette, this is Clarisse. She’ll be helping out around here so you can rest more."Bridgette’s eyes narrowed as she took in Clarisse, who, admittedly, was strikingly beautiful. Tall, blonde, and perfectly poised, Clarisse looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.Bridgette’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I don’t need a maid.""It’s just to help you," I said, trying to ease the tension. "She’ll handle everything—cleaning, errands, cooking—

Bridgette was restless, pacing back and forth in the grand living room of the penthouse in Miami. The faint glow of city lights illuminated her determined expression. I leaned against the doorway, watching her silently. She was consumed by this—her father’s company, the stolen assets, the legacy she wouldn’t allow to crumble.“They’re not just thieves, Thiago,” she said, finally stopping to face me. “They’re parasites. Feeding off years of my father’s hard work and dedication.”“And you intend to hunt them down,” I replied calmly, stepping closer.Her eyes blazed with determination. “Yes. Someone has to. My father is too kind—too trusting. But I won’t let this slide.”I admired her fire, but I also knew it would take more than passion to solve this. “We’ll do it together. But we have to be smart about it. We’re not just dealing with thieves; we’re dealing with professionals.”We started by reviewing the financial records Bridgette managed to retrieve from her father’s office. Late nig

The calm after the exhibit was short-lived. Bridgette’s triumph was celebrated in Monaco’s circles, her sculpture making waves beyond the event. But success had a way of drawing out old ghosts, and soon enough, whispers began to circulate—whispers that hinted at the return of someone neither of us wanted to deal with: Cynthia.It started with a simple call from Lucia.“She’s back,” Lucia said, her tone sharp. “I overheard her talking at a private luncheon. She’s been asking about you and Thiago.”Bridgette was seated across from me at our breakfast table, savoring a fresh croissant when I put the phone on speaker. Her relaxed expression turned icy at the mention of Cynthia’s name.“What does she want now?” Bridgette asked, her voice steely.“Leverage,” Lucia replied. “From what I gathered, she’s trying to position herself back into Victor’s favor—and that means dragging your name through the mud.”Bridgette clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around her coffee mug. “She never kno