Lahat ng Kabanata ng Abandoned by Ex, Married to His CEO Brother: Kabanata 321 - Kabanata 330

ConradWe ate in silence save for the sound of forks against porcelain, the quiet shift of Casillas’s chair and the muted sound of him sipping his water. It was maddening. Every second stretched like a rope pulled too tight, and I wanted to scream at him to just speak and tell me why he had called me here. But if he had decided we would only talk once the plates were cleared, then that was how it would be.The moment I set my utensils down, two maids appeared as though conjured from thin air. They whisked the plates away while a third entered the room, carrying a tray that held a bottle of whiskey and a single glass. She set the glass in front of Casillas, pouring with slow precision until he lifted his hand to signify it was enough, then disappeared with both bottle and tray. Casillas leaned back, cradling the glass in his hand, and only when he had taken the first slow sip did he turn his gaze to me. “I understand you’ve been wanting to speak to me,” he said.My laugh came out shar

MarcelineThe subject line alone of the email made my stomach twist before I even clicked it open: “Notice of Account Suspension Pending Review.”These cold, clinical words were familiar to me by now. The email itself was no kinder. The foreign bank, one of my older, more discreet institutions in Zurich, wrote in their infuriatingly polite tone:"Dear Mrs. Remington,We regret to inform you that due to an ongoing investigation into potentially irregular transactions, your account ending in 9042 has been temporarily suspended. Please note that this is a precautionary measure and not indicative of wrongdoing. Access to withdrawals and transfers has been restricted until further notice. Our compliance department will reach out for documentation to clarify the nature of certain funds. We apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for your cooperation."I sat back, my fingers stiff against the edge of my desk. Inconvenience, that was the word they chose, as if strangling my access to s

MarcelineConrad thanked the reporters humbly and lowered his head once more as he said he would not be taking any questions and left the podium.I sat frozen, my entire body like jelly, weak and trembling as if I had been struck by a fever. My own son had orchestrated this. When had he found the time?I racked my mind, dizzy with fury, trying to place the moments. While I had been stretched thin, battling Alexander’s endless attacked, bleeding resources to hold my place and keep my throne… was this what Conrad had been doing? Plotting my downfall? Filing papers, forging reports, paying off doctors, and creating lies to chain me?The pain of betrayal burned hot in my throat, choking me. He had turned his back on me. My son, the one I had carried, the one I had raised in my image, had chosen this moment to strike. He had taken all that I was and thrown me into the abyss. I wanted to scream and smash the television into pieces. I wanted to call him, drag him before me, and demand ans

Marceline My knuckles were white against the steering wheel, my grip so tight it felt as if the leather would tear under my fingers. The road stretched ahead in meaningless lines of grey and white , but I wasn’t truly seeing any of it. My thoughts were violent, endless storm waves in my head. Where was I even driving to? The truth was, I didn’t know. I had no destination and no safe place left that I could trust. My office was no longer mine; walking back in there would be a mistake too foolish even for desperation. Going home would be suicide. Conrad would be waiting, or worse, he would send someone to engage in my personal humiliation.I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached. I couldn’t even rely on the other properties scattered around the city, the ones I had taken such care to keep under my name. Conrad knew every one.of them. If I dared step foot into any of those houses, I might as well hand him the rope to put around my neck. Even Bonafide’s safehouse was out of the questio

Marceline Conrad’s voice brightened immediately. “Maybe even less if I manage to get everything in order sooner than later.” I let his optimism wash over me for a beat before slicing into it. “Since that’s the case, you’ll have no problem giving me the original documents. That is, the Petition for Appointment of Conservator and the Letters of Conservatorship. You’ll mail them an address I'll send to you.” There was a pause, showing me just enough hesitation to confirm what I already suspected. I pressed on before he could gather himself. “Afterward, you’ll also apply for the conservatorship to be removed. When that’s granted by the court, I’ll tell you what to do next.” He started to protest. “Mother—” But I talked right over him, unwilling to give him room to wriggle out. “If you had bothered to run this plan by me before bulldozing through, I would have told you that forging the conservatorship documents was enough. You didn’t need the real deal. But since you’ve gone and got