Semua Bab Abandoned by Ex, Married to His CEO Brother: Bab 241 - Bab 250

Liliana I was going to walk out those doors and into the night, with no place to go and no protection. Casillas would find me, and he would not be kind. I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat and forced myself to breathe. The moment I stepped out of the detention room, both officers flanked me like I was some wild animal they didn’t quite trust not to snap again. I didn’t miss the way they exchanged glances and the way their eyes never fully left me. It was clear hey expected a repeat of my earlier outburst. Idiots. If they knew the first damn thing about Casillas, they would understand I wouldn’t try that stunt again. The mere suggestion of sedation had clamped a steel collar around my neck. They handed me over to a female officer at the desk who didn’t bother hiding her disinterest in my disheveled state. She moved robotically, not speaking to me, save for clipped instructions. “Stand here.” “Sign this.” “Place your thumb.” She didn't even bother making eye contact

LilianaHarry said nothing. Instead, he turned and walked to his backpack, crouching beside it as he rifled through the contents. I tried again to push myself up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I was too dizzy, I watched him pull out a large plastic container, orange and square shaped, the kind used for cleaning fluid or motor oil. My stomach twisted with dread. “No,” I whispered. He returned to my side, the container in hand, and looked down at me with the same awful calm. “You are my mom,” he said plainly. “So why are you surprised?” He unscrewed the cap slowly, like he wasn’t in a hurry. “I’m just doing what you always did; what’s best for me.” The moment the scent hit my nose, I knew what he was holding, gasoline. “No,” I gasped, louder this time. “Harry. Harry, please—” But he tipped the container, and the cold, pungent liquid spilled over my head. It soaked into my scalp, streamed down my face and neck, making me sputter and choke. The stench was overwhelming. I screamed,

Marceline He stopped, turned halfway toward me, and then looked back at the screen. Simon was doubling down, laying the groundwork for what would come next; moral outrage, clamoring for interviews, Alexander's name shooting up in the search engine. It would be a perfect storm. Conrad didn’t sit despite my command. Instead, he shook his head, his expression devoid of the pleasure I was trying to contain. “This is too far.” “Too far?” I echoed, my tone cold and sharp enough to slice. “That little video of Susanna’s insipid sister was too far. What Simon is doing is damage control. Would you rather we stay silent and let Alexander twist this narrative in his favor?” He didn’t answer immediately, but his expression, reeking of distress was, answer enough. I wasn't surprised when he said, 'But the video wasn't traced back to Alexander, was it? There's no proof he was the one who leaked it.' I sighed before lifting my cup to my lips again. I didn’t understand it. Why did my son

ConradI woke up with my head pounding like it had been caught between two clashing cymbals. My mouth was dry, my throat was scratchy, and the bitter taste of last night’s whiskey still coated my tongue. I blinked against the morning light slipping through the blinds, not yet ready to sit up but too uncomfortable to keep lying down.It took me a few seconds to remember why I had drunk myself into a stupor the night before. But once the memory came, it came in full, unforgiving force; the memory of my mother, her eyes gleaming with veiled threat, her words sharp and smug as she told me that this entire farce, this war she was insistent on waging against Alexander now, was for my own good.That was what enraged me the most, even now, more than forty eight hours after she had spoken them. Those words, for my own good, as if I didn’t already know what was at stake. As if I was some blundering idiot unaware of how legacies worked, or how delicate my position in the Remington family could b

ConradI lowered the phone slowly, blinking at it as if it had betrayed me. Then I set it down on my desk and leaned back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling like it might have some kind of answer for me. Mother really did it. She had tanked my deal. And for what? To prove that I still danced on her strings? That even in the parts of the company she never cared about, her hand could still reach in and undo everything I worked for? The rage that bubbled up was slow but steady. Did she really want me powerless? To remind me I was nothing without her? Suddenly, my anger exploded. I picked up my phone and flung it. It landed halfway across my office with a sharp, echoing thud, but the action did nothing to quiet the fury boiling in my chest. My own mother had gone behind my back and sunk the damn deal with Karah’s team, just like that. Not because of strategy, not even because of genuine concern for the company, but because she could. Because she wanted to remind me that she c