Worship Me, Duncan のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO— Duncan —It’s one thing to feel rage.It’s another thing to do something with it.I’d felt it before—white-hot, gut-twisting fury, the kind that burned you from the inside. But this time, it didn’t burn.It froze.Solid.Clean.The anger crystallized into something sharper.Something useful.---Marco delivered within forty-eight hours.He always did.The man was a ghost—a phantom with access to things that didn’t appear on paper, didn’t live in the cloud, didn’t show up on credit statements or GPS trackers. Just movement, patterns, whispers, secrets.And now… I had it all.---The file arrived encrypted and timed to self-delete.I opened it with hands that didn’t shake.Not anymore.I was past trembling.Past breaking.Now I was building something.Something darker.Something inevitable.---Photos.Lucas and Aphrodite.Dinner. Walking. A coffee shop. A private art gallery she once took me to.In every picture, she looked… poised. Distant. Sometimes smiling.Neve

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR— Aphrodite —Some people think the worst part is breaking someone.They’re wrong.The worst part is when they still love you afterward.When they look at you the way Duncan Moretti did that night—with eyes that begged to forget and hands that ached to destroy.When they love you so much they want to see you ruined, just to feel a little less broken themselves.That’s the kind of love you never walk away from.That’s the kind of love that scars.---I stood in front of Room 306.My fingers hovered an inch from the door, trembling like they still belonged to the girl I used to be—the one who believed Duncan Moretti would love her forever, even if she didn’t deserve it.> You’re still mine.He’d said it hours ago.Quiet. Icy. Possessive.And I hated how much it still controlled me.---The door opened before I could knock.He was already there.Like he’d been waiting.Like he’d sensed me the moment I walked onto the floor.Because that was what Duncan did—he felt thi

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX— Aphrodite —It started with silence.The kind of silence that doesn’t invite peace—but strangles it.I sat beside Duncan in the sleek, black car as the city blurred past the windows, and neither of us spoke. There was nothing soft between us. No music, no murmurs, no subtle glances.Just the air thick with things we couldn’t say.Or rather—he wouldn’t let me say.---He hadn’t looked at me since I slid into the dress he chose—black silk, no bra, the neckline plunging and the hem daring. I’d stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself, wondering when I started looking like a beautiful hostage.The answer was easy.When I went back to him.---The venue loomed above us—a rooftop event packed with Manhattan’s elite. It was a charity gala for something no one really cared about. The kind of event where appearances were everything, and nothing was ever said outright. Deals were made in winks. Threats whispered between handshakes.And now I was the headline.---T