Todos los capítulos de Married by Mistake, Loved by Fate: Capítulo 131 - Capítulo 140

Greg poured himself a drink, whisky, straight, his hands shaking. Venessa sat on the couch, her eyes tired, her soul heavier than ever.“Greg,” she said softly. “You have to stop fighting everyone. Maybe… maybe it’s time to accept it’s over.”He turned sharply. “Over? You think this is over?”She nodded slowly. “You’ve lost the company, the money, the reputation. You’re fighting shadows now. You’re not Greg Durojaiye anymore, not the man the world used to respect.”He stared at her like she’d just slapped him. “Is that what you think of me?”Tears welled in her eyes. “I think you’ve lost yourself trying to destroy someone else.”The silence that followed was dangerous. He put down his glass and took a step toward her.“Tell me something, Venessa,” he said quietly. “How did Austin’s media team get access to my financial reports? How did the press know about the offshore accounts? Who else knew those details, besides you?”Venessa’s eyes widened. “Greg, don’t”“Don’t what?” His voice

The silence stretched. Heavy. Crushing.Mr. Bennett’s last words, “Because this test isn’t over” lingered in the air like smoke that refused to fade.Lucy slowly rose from her seat. Her chair scraped softly against the marble, but the sound felt deafening. She took a few steps away from them, her chest rising and falling too fast. Her mind was spinning, love, betrayal, confusion, all tangled together.She stopped about five feet away from the table and turned her back to them, staring blankly at the wide glass window. The city lights outside blurred in her eyes.Then she felt it, her father’s quiet footsteps behind her. He stopped just close enough for her to feel his warmth.Mr. Bennett folded his arms gently across her shoulders, the way he used to when she was a child who cried after losing her favorite toy.“Baby girl,” he said softly. His voice had changed, no longer commanding, but warm, almost pleading. “You know I love you, right?”Lucy didn’t answer. Her throat felt tigh

The glass shattered before it hit the floor.“Answer me, damn it!” Greg roared, slamming the phone against the wall. It splintered into pieces, the name Mr. Bennett still flashing on the cracked screen. His chest rose and fell like a man on the edge of madness.He stood there in the middle of the living room, shirt half-unbuttoned, tie hanging loose, his eyes red with fury and whiskey. The silence in the mansion felt wrong, too still, too empty. Venessa’s perfume still lingered faintly in the air, haunting him.He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, loud, bitter, broken. “So it was all a game, huh?” he spat into the air. “You wanted to test me? Use me? Well, congratulations, Bennett, you won.”His voice echoed back at him, mocking.He reached for the nearest thing, a crystal award from his office shelf, and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the wall, fragments raining down like glittering tears.The storm inside him refused to quiet.He stumbled toward the bar, sloshed w

The city glimmered under the night sky as Austin’s black Mercedes cut through the soft drizzle. The low hum of jazz filled the car, smooth, slow, deliberate. Lucy sat beside him, her gaze lost in the blurred streaks of neon light rushing past the window.For the first time in weeks, her heartbeat wasn’t fueled by chaos or pain, just quiet confusion. The kind that comes when something feels too calm after too much fire.Austin’s hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his other arm stretched along the edge of her seat. Now and then, he’d glance at her, not saying a word, just watching her breathe.“You’re quiet,” he said finally, his tone gentle but edged with curiosity.Lucy smiled faintly, still looking out the window. “I’m just… thinking.”“Dangerous habit,” he teased.She turned to him with a soft laugh. “Says the man who overthinks everything.”He grinned. “Touché.”They fell into an easy silence again, the music wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Outside, the rain had

The morning sun mocked him.It spilled through the half-open blinds like gold poured over ruins, catching on the dust that floated lazily through the stale air. Greg stood at his door in nothing but a crumpled shirt and yesterday’s whiskey breath, staring blankly as the landlord’s assistant handed him a folded piece of paper.“Thirty days,” the man said flatly, his tone devoid of pity. “You’re behind on everything.”Greg took the paper slowly, his fingers trembling as though the notice were made of fire. Eviction. The word bled through the page, final, cruel.The assistant’s eyes flicked around the penthouse, once marble and glass, now half-empty and silent. “They’ll start removing your things this afternoon,” he added before turning away, his polished shoes clicking against the hallway like punctuation marks to Greg’s downfall.The door shut with a hollow thud. Silence.Greg let out a broken laugh, the kind that came from deep inside, from a place between rage and despair. “Thirty