บททั้งหมดของ The Wrong Kind Of Right: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Luca Virelli sat in a sleek, glass walled conference room on the thirty fifth floor of the D'Amico International building, one of the city’s rising tech conglomerates.The table was long, the men around it older, sharp eyed, money hungry. He should’ve been hyper focused, this deal had been Paolo Virelli’s obsession for three years, but all Luca could think about was the man standing near the glass door, arms crossed, black shirt stretched over muscle, watching him with eyes that said everything and nothing at all.Asher.The earpiece in Asher’s ear was purely cosmetic. There was no real threat to Luca’s safety here, this was all just part of the show. “Private security detail” was what Paolo had approved, and Luca hadn’t corrected him. The lie sat easier than it should’ve.Asher’s gaze lingered every time their eyes met. A silent touch. A heat between them that flared even when the air was sterile with business jargon.“…Mr. Virelli?” one of the execs asked, breaking the haze.Luca bl

The next day started like any other.Luca was dressed in a crisp navy suit, the jacket tossed over his arm as he finished the last sip of his espresso.Asher leaned in the doorway of the villa’s front room, his sleeves rolled, fingers still damp from their quick morning swim in the sea.His hair hadn’t fully dried. Luca liked it that way, loose, untamed, real.“You sure you want me with you today?” Asher asked, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “I can hang back. Give you some breathing room.”Luca stepped forward, smoothed the collar of Asher’s shirt and leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of his mouth. “You breathe better when you’re close.”“Corny.”“True.”Asher rolled his eyes, but he smiled, a smile that lingered as they left the villa, boarded the black sedan, and rode through the narrow streets back into the city.The small office Luca had been using was tucked inside a historic commercial wing of the Virelli affiliated firm. It wasn’t flashy, modern glass offices

Luca sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, the weight of the world pressing down on him.His phone rested beside him, glowing ominously with an incoming call.The name on the screen was enough to make his stomach churn: Paolo Virelli.He glanced toward the bathroom door, where the faint sound of running water indicated that Asher was still in the shower.For a moment, Luca considered ignoring the call, letting it go to voicemail. But he knew better.His father wasn’t the kind of man you ignored, especially not now, not when Paolo was moments away from stepping into a press conference that could either ruin or preserve the Virelli name.Taking a deep breath, Luca swiped to answer.“Father,” he greeted, his voice steady but laced with tension.Paolo’s voice came through like a whip crack, sharp and uncompromising. “Luca. Tell me you’ve come to your senses.”Luca stiffened. “I’ve already made my decision.”Paolo scoffed. “Your decision? This isn’t about you, boy. This is abo

Asher scrolled further. Saw the headlines. Saw Paolo’s words. Saw his very existence being framed as a “misstep” Luca had to recover from.“He threw you under the bus,” Asher muttered. “He threw us under the bus.”“I didn’t know he’d move this fast,” Luca said, voice hollow. “He called earlier. Said if I didn’t fall in line, he’d...”“He’d what?” Asher pressed, gaze sharp now.Luca swallowed hard. “He said he’d handle it. Make you disappear from my life if he had to. That he’d make it look like it was always just me, playing a game.”Asher sat back slowly, like the words knocked the wind from him.“And would you let him?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Would you let him erase me?”“No.” Luca said it quickly, but his voice cracked. “No, I wouldn’t.”“Because it sounds like you already let him,” Asher added, not cruel, just honest. “You didn’t even tell me about the press conference being done. You hid it. Like I’m something shameful.”Luca reached for his hand, but Asher pulled back.“I’m

The wheels of the Virelli jet kissed the tarmac with a hiss and a bounce, the city skyline already rising like a judgment in the distance.Luca sat rigid in the leather seat, jaw clenched so tightly it ached.Outside the window, the ground crew moved with clinical precision, unaware that the man stepping off this plane was walking into his own personal battlefield.His phone buzzed the moment the plane rolled to a stop.Paolo Virelli.Of course.Luca didn’t want to answer. But he did.He always did.“Your face is already trending,” Paolo’s voice came through, low and commanding, no pleasantries. “Your name’s on every ticker. Some are calling it a leak, others a scandal. When you step off that plane, you’ll smile, you’ll wave, and you’ll deny everything.”Luca’s hand trembled slightly, so he switched the phone to his other ear, biting down the nausea rising in his throat.“And if they press?”“You swear it’s slander. You talk legacy. You say our name has enemies. Keep it cold. Virelli