All Chapters of Wedcuffed: Chapter 271 - Chapter 280

Sarah POVSaturday | 9:12 AMSarah's Apartment. The knock came just as I settled Gabriel into his high chair with a half-mashed banana and his favorite teether giraffe. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Not this early. Not after the week we’d had. I padded barefoot to the door, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, still in a faded sleep shirt and leggings with one of Gabriel’s oatmeal handprints near my hip.I opened the door, and there he was.Alessandro.In jeans and a navy sweater, casual in a way I rarely saw him. No tailored suit, no phone glued to his ear. Just him with his hair slightly wind-swept and a duffel slung over one shoulder. And a car seat carrier in his free hand.My brows lifted. “Are you having a midlife crisis?” He smirked. “Close. I’m kidnapping you. Both of you.”“Excuse me?” “Weekend getaway,” he said, his voice low and calm. “No, Adrian. No press. No emails. Just you, me, and Gabriel.”I blinked.He leaned slightly forward, lowering his voice. “I alrea

Adrian POVWednesday | 7:20 PMThe restaurant hadn’t changed. It remains faintly lit, with salt-stained windows providing a foggy glimpse of the nighttime traffic. The faint hum of talking and clinking silverware enveloped me like a cloud, yet I scarcely heard anything.I was watching the door.It had been years since Sarah and I sat across from each other at this restaurant. Back then, we were still married, at least on paper. In public, we wore the mask of a polished power couple, the kind that people in our world admired and envied. But behind closed doors, the truth was far uglier. While Sarah tried to breathe life into a dying marriage, I was already suffocating it with my own selfishness. I was seeing Jessica on the side, recklessly. I convinced myself it was harmless, justified it as Jessica as my love, and Sarah as a liability.The dinners we had at this very table were part of a script, a performance for our family, media, and our curated image. I’d show up in a tailored suit

Sarah’s POVThe door shut with a soft click. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that didn’t soothe it buzzed, like static against the skin.I stood there for a full ten seconds, unmoving, every nerve still echoing with the phantom of his touch. My blouse gaped open, and one heel twisted slightly on my foot.I slowly exhaled, almost afraid to breathe too deeply in case it shattered the thin, shaky hold I had left on myself.What the hell just happened?One moment we were tearing each other apart with words. Next, his fingers were inside me, dragging me into that familiar heat. Then he’d pulled away. Just like that. Left me flushed, gasping, trembling, unfinished. Like I was something disposable.A lesson. A warning.On the glass wall I caught my reflection: flushed skin, pupils blown wide, and hair wild around my shoulders. My lips were swollen.My eyes looked… lost. No businesswoman, no boardroom shark. Just a woman cracking open at the seams.“You’re not a teenager,” I mutt

Sarah POVNext MorningI woke up feeling smug.Not light or easy exactly, not after the previous night’s wicked performancE, but I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.Power.Not in a malicious way. Not the cold kind that left men crawling and bruised. But the warm kind, like stepping into heels that finally fit again. Like looking into a mirror and seeing the version of yourself who never begged, never bent, and never forgot her worth.I made my coffee slowly. Dressed intentionally. Red lipstick. Hair up. Black blouse tucked into tailored beige trousers. I looked sharp. Polished. Like I hadn’t locked a six-foot-two Italian man outside my apartment in a raging hard-on storm the night before.I smiled to myself.Control was sweet.11:23 AM – Amario OfficeIt was a quiet day, and the team was deep in project coordination. The mood was mellow, productive. I was walking down the hallway holding a tablet, flipping through notes for the investor pitch we were leading next week, whe

Alessandro POVBy 9:00 a.m., I was at Amario Enterprises, not my usual territory, but necessary.The Tokyo investor brief had triggered a chain reaction, and Sarah and I were determined to land it right. Last night had pushed the foundation back into place, but now came the precision work, revisions, translations, data reshaping, and coordination with two time zones.The glass conference room on the 21st floor was surprisingly silent, with discussions blending into a muted professionalism. Sarah occupied the table's head, dressed in a slate-grey gown, her hair pulled back, intense and enigmatic.We didn’t speak much beyond the task at hand.She reviewed figures; I flagged translation issues. We corrected formatting and tightened the deck. Our teams, looped in overnight, sent updates every thirty minutes. The Tokyo translators confirmed revisions by noon.By three, Gianna’s assistant had a PDF of the final investor pack ready for submission, including a clean version and a tracked-comm