Amara The next morning, I awoke to find myself wrapped in Ivan Voltaire’s arms. Panic shot through me. My hands flew to my clothes, frantically checking—still fully dressed. Relief washed over me in waves, and I exhaled slowly, heart pounding, mind racing. Fragments of the night before flickered through my mind—hazy, out of order, like scenes from a half-remembered dream. The lingering sadness from earlier had driven me to seek solace in alcohol after speaking with Gazelle, Ivan, and President Ferrero. What came after was a blur of sharp words and messy emotions. At some point, Ivan and I ended up alone in a private room of his bar. And that was when I completely lost it. “I can’t trust any man anymore. You, Mr. Voltaire, you’re just like them! You made me fall for you back then, and I know you manipulated my dad. You just wanted to use me, and then—voila!—just like that, a few months later, your true colors showed. You proved exactly what kind of womanizer you really are!” “
Last Updated : 2025-06-08 Read more