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All Chapters of The Don's purchase : Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

17 Chapters

The blue print

EMILE — POVThey always assume I’m the villain.The bitter ex. The one who couldn’t keep him.But what they forget is—I built him.Before me, Wilbet was just another trust fund brat with charm and no compass. I gave him direction. I taught him how to hold a room, how to cut people down with a smile, how to weaponize silence. The slick suits, the cold ambition, the taste for control? All mine.I was the blueprint. The foundation. The one who shaped him into the man he is today. And now, he walks around like he invented power. Like he didn’t learn it in my bed, in my arms.They say he’s married now. That poor, quiet girl with the bruised wrists and wide eyes.Aziza.Even her name sounds fragile, like a whisper of a word that could easily be broken.She moves like a shadow, silent, careful. Like she’s always apologizing just for existing. She doesn’t talk much, but you can feel the fear in her posture, in the way she flinches before a room even notices her.She’s not a wife. She’s a poss

Last Updated : 2025-05-11

Cracks in Marble

AZIZA — POVThere’s something about quiet that used to soothe me.Not anymore.Now, silence is just a breeding ground for dread.It started subtly—barely-there details I could’ve easily ignored if I wasn’t so attuned to lack. A maid I hadn’t seen in days. A driver replaced with a rental app. The fresh lilies that used to arrive every Tuesday from that overpriced florist in Victoria Island? Replaced with nothing. Just a lonely, empty vase on the dining room table, its glass catching the sunlight like it was mocking me.Wilbet doesn’t mention any of it. Not the missing staff, not the scaled-down dinners, not the canceled weekend getaway to countries that we never miss. He just moves through the house like it’s still filled with noise and people and champagne—like it’s still his.But I see the cracks now.The cracks in the marble floors. The chipped gold-leaf trim on the staircase. The way the lights flicker when the generator kicks in. Small things. But they add up.And then there’s the

Last Updated : 2025-05-11

Pawn or player

EMILE — POVHe rolled out of bed without a single word. Like he hadn’t just rearranged my guts.Classic Wilbet.If there’s one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck. I’ll give him that. Cold precision. Mechanical. Detached. But still—there’s a hunger to it. A need. I used to think it was about me. Now, I know better. It’s about control. About reminding himself that he still owns something—anything—in a world where everything else is slipping through his fingers.I stretched, letting the silk sheets pool at my waist, my skin flushed and sticky with the sweat of something that could never quite be called love. I watched him from the bed—back stiff, movements tense, shirt wrinkled from where it had been tossed across the floor last night. He didn’t glance at me. Didn’t say a thing.“You’re quieter than usual,” I murmured, voice low and drowsy, the kind of voice that invited secrets. “That wife of yours not letting you get any rest?”He paused for a fraction of a second, stiffened as

Last Updated : 2025-05-11

Pressure Points

Wilbet – POVLeaving Emile’s house left me more disoriented than usual. I used to run to her for closure, for comfort—a distraction that made forgetting easier. But now? I couldn’t even forget in peace.I slid into the driver’s seat of my Bentley and backed out of the driveway. If any of Emile’s staff were shocked to see me behind the wheel, they didn’t show it. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed them. I couldn’t even remember the last time I drove myself anywhere. But now, it was something I had to do. Letting the driver go was one of many decisions forced by truth I could no longer outrun: we couldn’t afford him.And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Aziza had started noticing. The missing day staff. The cleaner who didn’t show. The little girl who now served her breakfast alone. I silently prayed to whatever god might still tolerate me that Aziza hadn’t started connecting dots too fast. The last thing I needed was for her to go running to her mother—or worse, her brother. That would

Last Updated : 2025-05-17

Shopping for answers

Aziza – POVSomething was wrong. I just didn’t know what.One week ago, the staff were gone. The cars were missing. The house had felt half-dead. I had tiptoed around empty halls with questions bubbling up in my throat, scared to ask them out loud.And now? Everyone was back.The cook was humming again in the kitchen. The gardener waved at me like he’d never stopped coming. The driver was polishing the Bentley in the sun. I even caught a glimpse of the jet flying out yesterday, its wings cutting across the blue sky.The paintings that had disappeared from the hall quietly, without a word were back too. Hung exactly as they’d always been. As if someone had taken a photo and pressed rewind.It was the kind of thing you’d dismiss if it happened once. But everything had reversed itself in a week.And that was why my head wouldn’t stop spinning.Because I had seen the documents.I had been in the library looking for a book when I found them, lying half-tucked under one of Wilbet’s old news

Last Updated : 2025-05-30

Receipts and ruin

Aziza – POVWilbet still didn’t meet my gaze.He said nothing—sat there like a marble statue. And Malcolm? He couldn’t wipe that infuriating smirk off his face.“It’s lovely to see you again, Aziza,” he said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Your face is something I’ve become quite fond of.”I turned to face him, my voice low and sharp. “Cut the bullshit. What are you doing here? If my husband can’t speak up, maybe you have the balls to tell me something.”“Balls?” Malcolm chuckled. “I like that. Seeing as you look completely lost, I’ll assume he didn’t tell you anything. A shame, really. Gregory—what happened to honesty is the best policy?”“Shut up, Laurent,” my husband bit out quietly.Malcolm only laughed. “I believe you to be very smart, Aziza. Smarter than Gregory gives you credit for. I know you know what’s going on. Just think a little harder.”What was he trying to hint at? Was it the bank statements? The debt he mentioned at his estate dinner?Yes, things had been... patc

Last Updated : 2025-07-03

Collateral

Aziza – POV"The precious thing he gave up was you."The ringing in my ears intensified.Me?How does someone just... give a person away? What was this—the 18th century?I looked at Malcolm. Then Wilbet. They must’ve both lost their minds, because none of this made sense.“He gave me up?” I said slowly. “That’s rich, considering I don’t ever recall being his.”Malcolm tsked. “Ah, but my darling, you are. And I have you bound to me—legally and all. We’ve been drafting this contract for weeks now, haven’t we, Willy boy?”He looked over at Wilbet, who still said nothing. The fool.As if his silence could magically solve all of this.“I knew you weren’t fond of me, Wilbet,” I said, voice rising, “but to take out millions in my name, squander it, and then use me to clear the debt—for money I never even saw? That’s low. Even for someone like you.”He didn’t respond. Of course.“Who put you up to it?” I demanded. “Was it my sister? Or did you decide all on your own? Answer me, Wilbet!”I was

Last Updated : 2025-08-01

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