Semua Bab Let Me Go, Boss!: Bab 61 - Bab 70

Riley’s PovI hadn’t slept much. Even in a hotel with blackout curtains and triple locks, my body hadn’t stopped buzzing. It was like I’d swallowed lightning and couldn’t figure out how to ground it.But this morning felt different. I sat cross-legged on the bed in the oversized white tee Jax gave me days ago. It still smelled faintly like him. Like expensive soap and a perfume that cost a million dollars. I should’ve thrown it out. Instead, I wore it. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A news alert.“Jax Maddox set to address rumors in a live press conference. Coverage begins shortly.”I stared at the screen, then at the TV remote and before I could talk myself out of it, I turned on the television and tuned in.The podium stood alone at the center of the room, flanked by two large screens. The Maddox & Grant logo spun quietly in the background, trying to soften the chaos.Then he stepped out. Jax, in a dark suit. Clean-shaven with a smiley face.But I knew him too well. The smile

Jaxs PovI slammed the car door harder than I meant to.The day had been long, my shoulders ached from tension I hadn't noticed building until I was halfway down the hallway to my bedroom, already tugging at the knot in my tie.Seeing my mother today hadn’t helped. She barely looked at me during the visit. Or maybe she couldn’t. I wasn’t sure which one was worse. Her face had been pale, far thinner than the last time, her mouth moving without recognition in her eyes. Sometimes I wondered if she’d already decided I didn’t exist—just a ghost in her memory or if she was just being wicked all over again. My chest was still tight.I shrugged out of my blazer and tossed it across the nearest chair. It slid off the arm and crumpled to the floor. I was toeing off my shoes when my phone buzzed.It was a private number. I ignored it. It buzzed again and I reached for it and saw that it was the same number.I frowned.Only a handful of people had this line—Caleb, Riley, and a couple security he

Caleb’s pov I’d seen Riley angry before—at rude clients, at pushy reporters, once at a malfunctioning espresso machine that dared to spill hot milk on her blouse—but I had never seen her like this. And I’d seen her cry too. Quietly. Behind doors she didn’t think anyone noticed. But this wasn’t that either. This was something… sharper. I stood at her office door, watching her shove files into a cardboard box with stiff, robotic movements. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes were rimmed red, but no tears came. She didn’t even acknowledge me. I knocked, even though the door was wide open. She didn’t look up. “Riley…” She said nothing. I stepped in. “What the hell happened…Did you really?” She snorted—an ugly, bitter sound I’d never heard from her before. “Oh. Now you care.” “Of course I care,” I said, voice low. “Jax just fired you in the middle of a meeting. I didn’t even know—” “Exactly,” she said, cutting me off, slamming a drawer shut. “You didn’t know.” Her voice cr

Strangers POVAll I could think was how much I wanted to crawl out of my own skin.“Do you think ‘Eli’ is too short for a baby boy’s name? I mean, I like it, but I don’t want him to have a basic name,” Camilla said as she twirled her hair, pacing the length of the room with one hand on her swollen stomach.I nodded vaguely, not even sure what she’d asked. Her voice had become a dull hum in the background on my mind. I was too busy counting down seconds. Minutes. Hours.Three more months.Three more months and maybe I could be gone. The payout would hit my account, and I’d vanish like vapor. No more pretending. No more kissing her when I didn’t mean it. No more letting her cling like I was her lifeboat.“I mean, maybe something stronger? Like Maddox Jr.?” she mused, glancing at me with a crooked grin. “Wouldn’t that be poetic?”I forced a smile. “Very poetic.”She smiled at that, completely oblivious to how robotic my voice had become. Completely oblivious to the way I’d stopped touchi

Jax’s pov The TV was just background noise—something to fill the silence while I answered backlogged emails and signed off on logistics for the press follow-up. I barely even heard the first few words of the broadcast until I saw the red banner flash across the screen. BREAKING: Authorities Investigate Underground Tennis Betting Rings. I froze mid-click, fingers hovering above the remote. The news anchor’s voice sharpened: “—what officials are calling a wide-scale operation involving secret matches, off-the-record player appearances, and ties to high-stakes gambling. Anonymous sources claim several top athletes participated in these unregulated games, which were often held in luxury venues across America, Europe and Asia.” A clip flashed across the screen—grainy footage of a rooftop tennis court under low lighting. No faces, just shadows. One of the players had a swing eerily similar to mine. My stomach dropped. I muted the TV and leaned forward, staring at the footage. It