All Chapters of Fame or Revenge? The billionaire heiress choice. : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Chapter 22LeonardI stare at my phone as Olivia's name flashes on the screen. Third call today. It takes every ounce of restraint to keep my fingers to myself, letting it go to voicemail. Nick is worried she's a distraction and hasn't stopped reminding me of everything at stake if I fail to do my fucking job. It's been three days since we've met. I know she's getting suspicious about my sudden need for privacy and the distance. Nick isn't wrong. She's a distraction I've entertained too many times that it's addicting now. Like a drug. I want her invading my space with no more secrets. The double life is driving me crazy. But I need this…. the promotion I've waited years for. Nick counts on me too, I can't let him down. Running my hands through my hair, I stare at the wall of evidence I've been constructing. Photos of shipping containers, financial records, names and dates all connected. The O'Neill family tree takes up half the wall, but it's the Murray side….Olivia's family that

Chapter 24Leonard“I’ll shoot myself in the leg if I have to show up for one more dinner with your father.”Olivia's eyebrows are creased as she gawks at me. It's almost feels like she's trying to find something. “Hey, chill,” I laugh. A failed attempt to ease the situation. “I was only joking yunno.” “Hmm,” she replies with her lips in a pout. Olivia turns her gaze away from me and sits rigid in the passenger seat. An uneasy silence follows next as I navigate through the quiet suburban streets toward her house. I try to circle back in my thoughts to a moment I must have fucked up at the dinner to piss her off but nothing comes up. The dinner at her father's went well enough—except the moment I almost got caught. But Olivia doesn't know about it right? Or does she? Her father might–"Leonard." Her voice cuts through the hum of the engine and my thoughts. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."I keep my eyes on the road, though my grip tightens on t

OliviaLeonard's text arrives at seven in the morning: Can we meet? It's important.I stare at the message for a full minute before responding. We haven't spoken since our fight in his car two nights ago. Part of me wants to ignore the text, to make him wait the way I've been waiting for answers. But another part—the part that still loves him despite everything—can't resist.When and where? I type back.The coffee shop on Fifth. 9 AM?I arrive ten minutes early, ordering a latte I don't really want just to have something to do with my hands. The café is quiet at this hour, only a handful of other customers scattered at tables with their laptops and newspapers. I choose a corner booth with a view of the door and watch people pass by on the sidewalk outside.Leonard walks in exactly at nine o'clock because of course he does. He is wearing dark jeans and a gray henley, casual clothes that make him look younger somehow.He spots me and crosses the café with that purposeful stride of his

Emma's text arrives three hours after my disaster of a conversation with my father: We need to talk. Meet me at the old warehouse on Porter Street. Come alone.I stare at the message, my hands still shaking from crying. My father barely looked at me as I tried to explain everything. He just sat there in his armchair, looking older and more disappointed than I've ever seen him.And it's all Emma's fault.I shouldn't go. Every rational part of my brain is screaming that this is a terrible idea. But I need to understand why. Why would my best friend destroy my relationship with my father? What did I do to deserve this?I type back: I'll be there in 20 minutes.The warehouse is in the industrial district, a place Emma and I used to explore when we were teenagers, back when we were actually friends who trusted each other. It's abandoned now, windows broken, graffiti covering the brick walls. I pull into the empty lot and see Emma's car already parked near the entrance.My heart pounds as I

LeoI stand, lifting her with me, and her legs wrap around my waist. She directs me down the hallway to her bedroom, and I'm grateful it's not the first time I've been in her house because I'm not sure I could focus enough to find it on my own. Every step reminds me of how perfectly she fits against me, how right this feels despite everything that says it shouldn't.In her room, I set her down gently beside the bed. The last rays of sunset filter through her curtains, painting everything in soft gold. For a moment, we just look at each other, and I see the question in her eyes. I kiss her again, slower this time, trying to pour everything I can't say into it. My hands, clumsy with the bandages, fumble with the buttons of her blouse. She helps me, and soon it falls to the floor, followed by my own shirt.We move together with an urgency that surprises me.I slide fingers up her thighs, stopping at the hem of her underwear. She gasps into my mouth as I cup her pussy. She's all wet for m