Semua Bab Sugar Daddy Vampire: Bab 111 - Bab 120

For a second Chloe thought she was hallucinating again. Maybe the hunger, the chains, the pain, had all left behind echoes that were now tricking her eyes. Because there was no way. No way her mother was standing here, framed in the doorway, whole and radiant. But then her mother took a step forward. And another. And Chloe couldn’t breathe. “Mom…” The word broke from her throat like a prayer, fragile and raw. Her mother smiled, tears spilling down her cheeks. “My baby girl.” Chloe didn’t think, she just moved. She ran across the sitting room, her bare feet sliding against the hardwood, and flung herself into her mother’s arms. The embrace nearly knocked the air out of both of them, but neither let go. Chloe clung like a child, sobbing, burying her face into the familiar warmth of the woman who had been everything. Her mother’s hands shook as they stroked down her back, as if memorizing her daughter’s body all over again. “I’m here, Chloe. I’m here. And I’m not leaving you ag

Chloe moves as if pulled by a rope, too slow, then suddenly too fast. Her phone is in her hand, the instinct to document everything hardwired by years of distrust. She raises it and starts recording. Her hands are shaking so hard the screen blurs. For a second all she can hear is the low keening in her ears and the muffled rasp of Angela trying to breathe. Her mother’s lips form words she can’t quite make out. Panic floods Chloe hot and bright; memory after memory claws at her, the hospital, the bruises, the nights she held her breath while the house shook. “Stop it!” Chloe screams, and something in her snaps. She doesn’t think, she acts. She steps in and drives her shoulder into Richard’s ribs, a sharp, panicked shove. He stumbles; his fingers loosen. Angela slumps forward, coughing, clutching at her throat. Chloe uses the moment, grabs the collar at the back of his shirt and hauls him down hard. He slams to the floor with a heavy thud. Richard scrabbles up, red-faced, fury burni

“Now,” he murmured, his sharp and heavy gaze locking onto hers, “the night belongs to us.” Chloe’s blush burned hotter, her pulse tripping wildly. She didn’t bother with excuses this time. She just let him see it, the way her body leaned toward his, the way her breath trembled at the weight of his eyes. In the next breath, he had her pressed against the nearest wall, his body rigid with need. The rough stone bit into her back, but she barely noticed, her senses consumed by the heat of him, the scent of his skin, the desperate urgency in his touch. His lips brushed against her neck, his words a low, guttural whisper. “Sugar,” he rasped, his fingers digging into her hips, branding her with his possession. “You lied to them,” he whispered against her lips, his voice dark velvet. His hand slid up her thigh, dragging her dress higher. “You wanted this. You wanted me.” “Yes,” Chloe gasped, shocking herself with how shameless she sounded. “I want you.” The confession unleashed som

The night of the launch arrived like a dream Chloe could hardly believe was real. For weeks, she had worked with her team, stylists, planners, and brand experts to polish every detail of Chloe Luxe, her luxury cosmetics and skincare line. Yet even as she rode in the sleek black car toward the hotel ballroom where the event was being hosted, her stomach was in knots. A cosmetics launch in the luxury industry wasn’t just about selling lipsticks or creams, it was a statement. It was theater, power, and reputation. The venue had been transformed into a shimmering world of gold and ivory, chandeliers spilling light across glass displays that showcased the first line of Chloe Luxe products. Tables held glittering trays of foundation compacts, perfume bottles, and skincare jars, all arranged like treasures in a museum exhibit. At the entrance, a red carpet stretched forward, lined with photographers shouting for pictures. Press badges flashed, microphones hovered. Paparazzi were there in

Chloe hadn’t expected Valerius to take her seriously. It had been an offhand comment, spoken one lazy afternoon when they were curled up in her new apartment, rain dripping against the windows. She had been watching a romantic period film, the kind filled with candlelit intrigue and masked balls where lovers whispered secrets in shadowed corners. The costumes, the mystery, the sense of hidden danger had thrilled her. She had laughed, cheeks warm, and said, “I’d love to go to a masquerade someday. To dance with strangers, not knowing who’s who. It feels… dangerous.” Valerius had tilted his head, studying her with that unreadable intensity of his. He hadn’t said a word, but Chloe felt something settle in his gaze, like a note being written down to be played later. So when, three nights later, he told her to dress in black and not ask questions, Chloe’s stomach twisted with anticipation. …. The ride was quiet. Valerius’s hand rested cool and steady over hers the entire way, his thum