Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 291 - Chapitre 300

Serena's POVSlowly, I inhaled, still taking charge of the remains of irritation simmering in my chest.Every nerve in my body was taut, stretched, and ready to snap. "Morris," I finally said, forcing my voice to remain even, "it's best we talk about this some other time. I'm not really in the mood anymore."His expression changed, frustration, incredulity, something wounded; but I didn't wait for the response forming on his lips.I was too exhausted to go through another emotional interrogation. I turned and walked out onto the balcony without looking back.The moment I stepped into the living room, the atmosphere changed.Ella and Kyle sat together, mid-conversation; their postures were relaxed until Kyle saw me.He straightened immediately, like he'd been caught doing something wrong. His shoulders squared, the tension rising sharp in his gaze.Subtle, but unmistakably questioning, Ella's brows lifted, too.But I didn't care. Morris had ruined my mood, scraped open a wound I didn't

Serena's POV“Not necessary.” I stood, and something stubborn in me had me stride down the hall before I could change my mind.If Sophia was in Damien's room, I wanted to see what that meant. For a girl who loved comfort and deflection, she'd chosen proximity to danger more than once, sometimes without even realizing what she'd signed up for.I left Kyle and Ella behind, their voices fading, and knocked lightly on Damien's door.When I opened it, I saw Sophia laughing, full-throated, bright, like the room was shrunk to the size of her happiness.Damien was there, leaning by the window, watching her with that familiar unreadable expression. It always unsettled me how much he could say with silence.At the sight of me, Sophia’s laughter died away. “Serena!” she exclaimed, practically fluttering off the bed toward me. “You’re back.”He was leaning against the wall beside the window, watching her with an expression that hung somewhere between amusement and exhaustion, his arms folded.The

Serena's POVThe command in his voice made my heart pound.“He… he said he dug into me,” I whispered. “Into my past. Into Alexander. Into everything.”Damien’s entire body went still.“And then,” I finished, voice cracking slightly, “he said the only reason I keep people around me is because they’re useful to me.”Damien stood.Not abruptly.Not dramatically.He stood with the calm, dangerous composure of a man who was about to burn something down.“Damien…” I began, but he cut me off with a single look.His chest rose and fell once—slowly. Controlled. Like he was holding something inside.“Serena,” he said quietly, “look at me.”I did.He stepped closer. Only a fraction.But I felt it everywhere.“You are not manipulative.”I swallowed. “He said—”“I don’t give a damn what he said.” Damien’s voice sharpened. “What matters is what is true.”My breath shook.“You,” he continued, “are someone who has been used. Betrayed. Hurt. Lied to. You have every right to be cautious. Every right to

Pristine's POVHis voice shifted instantly, dropping low. “No, you won’t.”“Watch me.”“Pristine.”One word—low, warning, familiar.It should have stopped me.It didn’t.“You think I won’t?” I challenged.“I think you will,” he said. “That’s the problem.”I froze for a moment.The problem.Not me.Not my feelings.Just the fact that he knew I’d follow.I swallowed. “So tell me.”“No.”“Fine.”“Pristine—”“You can’t stop me.”He sighed, long and quietly frustrated. “I don’t want you involved in what I’m doing.”“Then keep me uninvolved. Just tell me where you are.”“That defeats the purpose.”“You’re impossible.”“You’ve mentioned that.”“Damien.”“Yes?”“I mean it. I’m going to find out.”His voice dipped into something dark and intimate—something that felt like a hand around my waist pulling me close without touching me.“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured.My breath caught.He rarely lost composure.He rarely let anything slip.So when he did—it hit me too deeply.“The

Pristine’s POV“Alright,” he said, voice rough. “I actually came because I was… pained.”I blinked, unimpressed. “Vincent, I’m not a therapist.”He gave a half-smile that wasn’t a smile at all. “I don’t need therapy. I need advice.”I arched my brow. “I’m not a counselor either. But, fine. Shoot.”He paced once, twice, as though trying to find the right place to drop the weight he was carrying. Finally, he stopped in front of me.“I was supposed to wrap up a major deal with the Diamond Company,” he began. “Everything was set. It was a clean deal, straightforward, well-negotiated. Then, suddenly… the former MD was shot.”I stiffened. I’d heard about that incident. A violent boardroom restructuring that had rattled the business world.“That’s not new,” I said calmly, watching him.“No,” he agreed. “But that’s not all.” He inhaled sharply. “The new MD rejected the deal.”My brows rose. “Rejected? Completely?”“Yes.” His voice cracked with irritation. “Flat rejection. No renegotiation. No