Lahat ng Kabanata ng Accidental Night with the Boss: Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

Zoe was already singing when Isabella spotted her across the street.Off-key. Loud. Unapologetic.“🎵 City of looove~ 🎵”Heads turned. Zoe didn’t care. She twirled once under the café’s striped awning, arms out like she was auditioning for a musical.Isabella couldn’t help smiling as she approached, tugging her cardigan closer. “You’re going to get us banned before we even sit down.”Zoe grinned, blond ponytail bouncing. “Then we’ll just move to another café and serenade them too. Come on! What? One week in Europe and you forgot how to have fun?”“Four days in Europe, almost one week cleaning up PR disasters after,” Isabella corrected wryly.Her “break” had been surprisingly quiet — long walks, phone calls with Julian, and a strange, nagging feeling that something was missing. Or rather, a bossy someone.When her phone rang that morning and Zoe’s voice blasted through saying, “I got half a day off! Let’s meet, you hermit!” — she hadn’t even hesitated.She’d missed the coffee at Café

Anna de Vries had always known that the Dubois family never did subtle.Even now, the ballroom glittered like it had been built to outshine the stars themselves. Crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, soft jazz weaving through the hum of gossip and money. Every bouquet of white roses seemed to whisper “old wealth,” and every laugh around her carried a practiced melody.Clarisse Dubois stood beside her, looking every inch the woman of influence she was — sleek chignon, deep emerald gown, and pearls that gleamed like a signature.Vincent’s mother. Chloe’s mother. And one of the most complicated women Anna had ever met.Clarisse turned to her, eyes warm and calculating all at once. “Anna, darling, it really has been far too long. Look at you — even more beautiful than I remember.”Anna smiled, dipping her head slightly. “You’re being too kind, Mrs. Dubois.”“Nonsense.” Clarisse clasped her hands together, her rings catching the light. “How could I forget the girl who used to follow Vinc

The singer hit a pure high note just as the lights caught her microphone, scattering silver across the stage.Her hair was tied up, her makeup simple and sweet — the picture of charm under the golden light.When the note dwindled, Isabella joined the polite applause that followed.Beside her, Zoe whistled, loud enough to earn a few stares. Isabella couldn’t help but laugh.The orchestra eased into a softer melody.“Do you think you’ll ever see me up there?” Zoe asked, eyes gleaming. “Me. On stage. Mic in hand. Belting out romantic lyrics. Zoe Grande.” She wiggled her brows dramatically.Isabella’s lips twitched. “Was that—Ariana Grande?”Zoe grinned. “Inspired by greatness.”“Maybe,” Isabella teased, “if you actually took more lessons.”They shared a quiet laugh and drifted toward the edge of the crowd.That was when a familiar, smooth voice slipped through the music.“Miss Rossi.”The sound of it was enough to make Isabella’s pulse hitch. She turned — blinking.“Miss de Vries.”Anna

Vincent hadn’t meant to lose his temper. Not in front of everyone.But the moment Isabella turned toward him, drenched in champagne and shame, looking small and helpless in that ridiculous blue dress, his control snapped clean in half.Hopefully no one heard a thing about his sister's disgraceful actions.He told himself afterward that it was because she embarrassed him — his secretary, his company’s face — at an event where every camera was watching, granted not one of them was foolish to publish anything that didn't go through them first.But the truth came in quieter, darker fragments.She hadn’t called.Not a text. Not even a one-line message to say she’d landed back in New York.But she'd been pretty buddy-buddy with Julian. Always asking what he was doing and if there was anything she could help with from home. But still... never asking about him.Two weeks of silence, just when he was considering calling her and asking her to report back to work next Monday and then she appeare

Downstairs, Chloe Dubois smiled for the cameras as the crowd applauded her first dance. The chandelier light fell perfectly against her skin — soft, flattering, almost divine. She tilted her chin slightly, her blonde hair catching the glow at just the right angle, then looked up at Zachary. He smiled down, that same tender expression that made women sigh and men envy him, and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. Around them, people cooed, clapped, murmuring about how beautiful they looked together — the perfect couple. The perfect night. Yes. Everything had gone according to plan. Every thread of the evening — the music, the lighting, her gown, the carefully chosen guest list — had been orchestrated by her. Every smile, every compliment, every envious glance from the crowd was proof that she’d won. She had won the perfect Zachary Grant. Finally. Her chest rose with a quiet, trembling satisfaction. Then she heard it. A name whispered where it shouldn’t have been. 'Isabella.'