Lahat ng Kabanata ng Seducing My Ex-husband's Brother : Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

By the time Monica reached her hotel suite, her phone had turned into a warzone. Emails. Messages. Calls from her manager and Diane, a few forwarded messages, could be Diane Even her private inbox—one only a few people had access to—was flooded. Interview requests, press inquiries. The subject lines said enough: Urgent: Statement Request Regarding Café Incident – Was He Your Lover? EXCLUSIVE Interview Offer: Monica Banks on Slapgate Scandal – Let’s Clear the Air Monica McKenzie SLAPS Man – Inside the Explosive Clip That’s Breaking the Internet She tossed the phone onto the bed like it was a bomb. Fucking age of technology, things easily went out of hand. The TV in her suite was already tuned to entertainment news. She tried to ignore it. But then she heard her name—followed by a second, more dangerous one. “...model and brand ambassador Monica Bank was seen in a dramatic confrontation earlier today, slapping an unidentified man in what social media is now calling ‘Th

Monica let the silence stretch for a second too long. Her heart beat like it had a ticking clock strapped to it, each second a countdown to another headline.“I can’t lie,” she said finally, her voice low. “Not about this.”She couldn't afford to hurt Spencer. Her heart clenched at the thought of it.Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then we spin. Say it was personal. Say it’s old history. Say you were defending yourself from a man who disrespected you. That always plays.”Her stomach turned. “That’s not what happened. I can't do that to Spencer. That's wrong Harry and you know it.”Harry raked his fingers through his hair, "I know it, Monica but it's your career on the line.""And."“But they don’t need the truth. They need something good.”"So destroying someone else's reputation is good."She turned toward the window. Rain streaked down the glass like falling ash. The city below kept moving, loud and fast. It was just one slap and now, she couldn't breathe.Harry’s voice softe

Spencer strode into the hospital lobby like a storm in tailored clothing. His eyes cut past the sterile reception and fixed on the nurse, who gave a stiff nod without needing to ask. “VIP Room 45. End of the hall.” He didn’t thank her. The hallway smelled like antiseptic and death denial. He hadn’t stepped foot here in weeks—not since the accident. Not since the bitter taste of betrayal lodged itself in his throat like glass. Liam. His father’s prized son. A son who wasn’t even his. He hated being here. Room 45 hummed with the low beep of machines. His father sat propped against the pillows, wires webbing his chest, a tablet balanced on his lap like even now, dying was an inconvenience. The old man looked up, eyes sharp despite the pallor. “Finally. Thought you were waiting for the funeral invite.” “You’re still breathing,” Spencer said, dragging the metal chair across the floor with a screech that matched his mood. His father didn’t smile. “You made the news.” Spencer didn’t

“Lake,” Leo burst into the dressing room, face flushed and eyes wild. “Dude—I told you this shit would get me in trouble.”Lake looked up from adjusting his shirt. “What now?”Leo pointed down at his pants. “I’m getting a freaking hard-on, man.”Lake recoiled. “Why are you pointing that at me? What do you want me to do about it?”“I’m panicking!” Leo groaned, pacing. “This fabric is thin, the lights are hot, and I’ve got thirty seconds before someone yanks me onto the runway.”Lake raised a brow. “So your solution was to run in here and flash me?”“I didn’t flash you, I pointed!” Leo snapped, then caught himself. “God, that sounds worse.”Lake turned away. “Bro, seriously. Just go deal with it before someone walks in and thinks I’m your fluffer or something.”Leo groaned and banged his head lightly against the wall. “This isn’t funny.”“It kinda is,” Lake muttered, fighting a smirk. “Go splash some cold water on your face. Or think about taxes.”Leo threw him a look. “You’re useless.”

The video was playing again.Her runway walk from two nights ago. The moment she stepped out, owning the room in that dress Spencer designed.Monica stood in front of the TV, frozen.The crowd’s reaction. The flashes. The way she carried herself—like she was still a pro in the game.She didn’t recognize the girl on the screen.That girl looked strong.Untouchable.But standing here now, in a quiet hotel room with her phone lighting up every five minutes, Monica didn’t feel like her. Everything felt like pressed down on her chest.She picked up the remote and turned down the volume. The video kept playing. Looping. The camera caught her eyes at one point—cold, focused, fierce.It made her chest ache.She sat on the bed slowly, her phone beside her.The message from earlier still sat there. “Your mother wants to meet you. The real one. Tomorrow. Gardenia Towers. 3PM.”Her real mother.She’d always wondered. Brenda never gave her answers. She didn't even know who to ask.Now this.Monic