All Chapters of Game over. : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Madeline’s POVThe bar empties faster than it should, chairs scraping back, voices cutting off too abruptly, the kind of silence fills the air. A silence that is controlled by men who think they are in charge, and I feel it before I fully register it, that subtle shift in the air, that tightening in my chest that tells me the game has finally stepped out of the shadows and into the open. At first I pretend that I don't see anything. I pretend that I don't know the men are surrounding me. I pretend I don't realize that the bar is empty. They must have removed all the people from the bar because they think that I might get out of here if there are people around us. Biggest mistake they could have made. I would have never done, what I'm about to do if there was people in this room. Marco and These men are not very clever. I let them believe the illusion. I am watching them, but I am pretending to just sit at the bar drinking fruit juice because I'm pregnant and I cannot drink any alcohol

Madeline’s POVThe night air hits my face the moment I step onto the dock, cold and sharp, carrying the smell of salt and fuel and something darker beneath it. I know that smell. It is the smell of fear of death. I lift my chin slightly as I walk forward because fear has no place in my heart anymore, not after what I have already done tonight, not after I know our enemies are all caught and, on this yacht, tonight waiting for their death. Michelle and Mariam are also here. I like it that Marco and his men underestimated me. After all, they believed that being pregnant made me fragile instead of dangerous.The yacht waits at the edge of the water, lights low, engines started, rocking gently as if it is impatient, as if it knows it will soon carry secrets that will never return to shore, and I see Logan standing near the ramp, tall and still, his posture relaxed. The hunt is over. We won, and tonight we will kill our enemies. I still do not know what to do about Michelle and Miriam. A

Madeline’s POVI look down at Michelle kneeling on the deck, her body shaking, her fear so raw you can almost feel it in the air between us, and I realize something important in this moment: killing her would be easy. Ending her life would take a single word, a small gesture, and the sea would swallow her screams the way it has eaten so many secrets before. No one would question it. No one would blame me. In our world, death is expected. Mercy is not. That is exactly why I pause. Because power is not only about who you kill, true power is deciding who lives and under what conditions.Michelle is broken. Not pretending. Not manipulating. Truly broken. Her pride is gone, her arrogance stripped away, and what remains is a woman who finally understands how small she is compared to the forces she tried to control. I see it in her eyes now. There is no scheming left there, no calculation. Only fear and regret and the desperate will to survive. Miriam is no better. She stands a few steps bac

Logan’s POVThe sea is restless tonight, not violent, not calm, but alert, as if it knows something final is about to happen and is waiting patiently to receive it. The yacht is anchored at the spot where the sharks are, and the lights along the deck cast long shadows that stretch and break with every gentle sway.Marco stands near the rail, surrounded by my men, stripped of everything that once made him powerful, everything that once allowed him to walk into rooms and expect obedience. There is nothing ceremonial about the way my men work. They are efficient, practiced, and silent. Clothing is removed not out of cruelty, but necessity, every step taken to make sure that when this night ends, there will be no trace left behind, no object that can float back to the surface and whisper his name. Marco trembles now, not from the cold alone, but from understanding. This is not a negotiation anymore.The smell of the sea mixes with fuel and blood, sharp and unmistakable, and my men have al

Madeline’s POVLife has a way of sliding back into place so quietly that you only notice it once you realize you are no longer bracing for impact every second of the day. The sharp edges dull. The silence stops feeling dangerous. The house breathes again, and so do we.This morning begins like so many others now, with sunlight spilling across the kitchen floor and the soft, familiar chaos of children who no longer feel the need to whisper or look over their shoulders. Daniella is already awake when I come downstairs, sitting cross-legged at the table with her hair in a wild tangle, coloring with fierce concentration as if the fate of the world depends on choosing the right shade of blue. Dean is sprawled on the rug with his toy cars, narrating an elaborate story to no one in particular, complete with dramatic sound effects that echo off the walls.I pause for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, one hand resting on my belly, just watching them. No guards are hovering nearby, no men s