All Chapters of TRAPPED WITH MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND: Chapter 321 - Chapter 330

It took less than two minutes for the flash drive to crack open.Encrypted, of course. My mother wouldn’t make it easy—that would be too humane for her. But Lucia was a genius, and stubbornness ran through our veins like inherited poison.I watched the loading bar fill, the digital hum of secrets about to detonate vibrating through my bones. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall would break me but leaning forward anyway.The folder auto-opened once decrypted. A list of documents. Names. Transfers. Voice memos.Lucia frowned as she clicked into the first file.Then, she cursed.“What?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.“Bridgette…” she turned the screen toward me. “Your father knew.”I leaned forward, eyes scanning.It was an internal email chain from five years ago.Subject line: “Containment Strategy – Tier II Entities.”The sender: Antonio Martinez.The recipient list included names I didn’t recognize—aliases, most likely. But two names I did know j

We flew low over the coast, the rotors slicing the dawn sky. The cliffs of my family’s estate faded into the horizon behind us, but the weight of what had happened there still pressed down on my chest like a stone.Leon sat across from me, his knuckles bloodied, a gash on his cheek where a bullet had grazed him. Dorian stood at the side hatch, eyes scanning the ground below through the open door, rifle still gripped tight.I clutched the drive to my chest. Inside it—evidence. Records Elise’s father had no right to keep. Photos from the night of my parents’ death. Surveillance logs. Maps. Transcripts. Names.One of them circled in my mind like a predator.Justin.He wasn’t just Elise’s father’s pawn. He was part of this from the beginning. Maybe even earlier.“We’re going dark,” Leon said suddenly, pulling his comms earpiece free. “No transmissions, no signals. Until we know who else is on their payroll.”Dorian nodded in agreement, already powering down the tracking system on his gear

The boardroom at Bermudez Group felt like a mausoleum.Silent. Cold. Drenched in the weight of legacy and betrayal.And I walked in like I owned it—because until someone took it from me, I still did.Eduardo gave me a curt nod as I passed. Carla avoided my eyes. Victor, seated two chairs from the head, tapped a pen against the armrest like it was a detonator.Thiago wasn’t there.By design.We’d agreed that if I was going to take the heat, I had to do it alone. Not just for optics. But because this was my name on the chopping block now.At the far end, Lazarus Bermudez sat where Thiago used to. His silver tie gleamed. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.“Bridgette,” he said with mock warmth. “We’ve been waiting.”I took my seat. My chair creaked in protest, like it knew I didn’t belong anymore.“I’m sure you’ve read the stories,” he continued smoothly. “It’s unfortunate. The public loves a good scandal. Especially when it involves betrayal and ambition.”“Especially when it’s orchestrate

The sky outside the penthouse windows was a canvas of bruise-purple and dying gold, the Miami sunset bleeding into night. I stood near the glass wall, arms crossed, waiting for Thiago to speak. He had followed me in from the garage without saying a word, his expression carved from stone—but I knew that mask well by now. Behind it was fire. And fear.“Say something,” I said finally, not turning around.He didn’t. Not at first.Then: “Did they threaten you?”I exhaled sharply, half a laugh, half a scoff. “No. They whispered like cowards and vanished like ghosts.”His footsteps came closer, slow and deliberate.“You don’t trust me,” he said, stopping just behind me.“I don’t know what to trust right now,” I said. “The files, the offshore accounts, the leaked emails, the reporters asking about a pregnancy I haven’t even confirmed—how the hell am I supposed to trust anyone?”I turned then.His eyes locked with mine—fierce, dark, unreadable.“Then ask me,” he said quietly.“What?”“If you d

[BRIDGETTE'S POV]The sound of Thiago’s breathing lulled me. Slow. Steady. Unshaken.I hated that.How could he lie there like he wasn’t on the edge of something catastrophic? Like our whole reality hadn’t shifted the second I handed him that test?Maybe it had always been this way—me unraveling in silence while he anchored us with that dangerous, deliberate calm.I lifted my head slightly, just enough to watch him sleep. His face looked younger like this. Less ruthless. The weight of control he always carried had slipped off, if only for the night.I should’ve felt safer. I didn’t.I felt... seen.And being seen terrified me more than the test ever could.I slipped out of bed before dawn, dragging the blanket with me like armor. My feet found the cold marble of the penthouse floor, but I didn’t flinch.I needed space.Not to run—Just to breathe.The bathroom lights were too harsh, so I settled on the balcony. The city was just waking up. Lights blinking to life like a million eyes f