Straight Until Him のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

Alessandro’s POVI bloody almost ripped the door apart, shutting it violently, that the whole house quaked. My palms refused to cease twitching. My ribcage falling up and down as though I had recently sprinted a long run.I wanted to unleash a primal roar. Silence, not an echo. The aisle sprawled lifeless, the sort of stillness that makes one's flesh prickle, like the mansion alone was merely expecting something to shatter.Pressed my head against the wall, ice cold, honestly a little grounding. Sweat rendered my palms entirely wet, and I gripped the handrail as if it was going to deliver me or whatever. My fists come across as if they had spotted a spirit. Truly, if I loosened up, I could have simply collapsed exactly here on the stairway. My chest beat, running berserk, pounding extremely loud to the point I believe everyone would be able to catch the sound; nevertheless, deep down in me, nothing. Only this void emptiness where at one time, sense emotions. Like something emptied me

Micah’s POVThe apartment was quiet. Too quiet. My phone sat on the counter, screen dark. No messages. No calls. No sign of him anywhere.I dragged my hand down my face, fingers getting lost in my hair. Ever since I spilled my guts, Alessandro just, poof, ghosted me. No texts. No calls. Nothing.The silence was deafening, like, almost painful. I jabbed at my phone, called him again. Voicemail, of course. Figures. Again. And again. Each beep into the void was a hammer to my chest.“Alessandro… please…” I whispered. My own voice sounded weak. Helpless.Then my phone rang. Not his number, but a contact I knew: someone who handled minor intel for me.“Micah,” the voice said, low, almost nervous. “I thought you should know…your sister’s fiancé…Romano…he stormed Hotel DeLuxe today. Tore the place apart.”Something inside me froze. Fiancé. That word. That connection. That title. My stomach twisted.“What do you mean?” I asked, voice tight.“There’s more,” the contact continued. “…something a

Sandra’s POVThe tea party fizzled out with a bunch of forced giggles and that annoying tinkle of teacups smashing together. I got up, probably looking way more graceful than before; trying not to trip over the hem of my expensive white dress. Put my bag on my shoulder, channeling my inner royalty, or whatever. The ladies stood up too, like they’d been waiting for me to make the first move. Honestly, felt a bit like herding cats in pearls. One of them, a plump brunette with pearls that screamed “old money,” chirped, “See you at your wedding, Sandra! We can’t wait!”“Yes, darling, you’ll be such a beautiful bride!” another added, her voice sugary sweet but her eyes full of envy.I gave them all my most polished smile, the one that stretched just far enough to look genuine but not enough to show how bored I was. “Of course, ladies. I’ll see you all soon. Save your best dresses for my big day. After all, you’ll need to look decent standing next to me.”They laughed at the whole thing, ac

Alessandro’s POVThe lake house has never felt this big before.It is funny, this place was supposed to be a retreat, somewhere my family came when we wanted peace. But sitting here now, with the curtains pulled halfway and the lake outside dull and gray, it feels more like a prison. The kind you walk into yourself and then realize too late you don’t know the way out.I have been hiding here for hours. Eight, maybe more. I stopped checking. My phone has not stopped buzzing since I got here, but I tossed it face down on the couch so I would not see the screen light up. Sandra, probably. Nicole too. I can almost hear her voice begging me not to do something reckless. And Micah… yeah, his name has flashed across the screen too. That one I could not bring myself to even glance at.I should feel relieved, but instead, there is this pressure in my chest that won’t go away. Like if I breathe too deeply, I will choke on it.Micah.I can’t get his face out of my head. The way he looked at me b

Sandra’s POVThis morning? Total fever dream. Sun blasting through those huge, dramatic windows, seriously, it felt like the set designer went overboard. My silk robe was catching every single ray, practically making me glow. For a hot second, I swear I looked like I belonged on the cover of Vogue or something. Forget boring cereal; breakfast was croissants, fresh strawberries, and a glass of champagne that kept threatening to take a nosedive right off my lap. Breakfast of champions, honestly.Meanwhile, chaos in the glam department. My makeup artist was fluttering around, all focused, brushing powder on me like she’s painting a masterpiece, which she is. The hairstylist is over there, babying each curl like it’s royalty, and the designer keeps popping in, fussing and rearranging the dress like the world’s ending if a strap is off by half an inch.I couldn’t help thinking, “So this is how you make a queen.” All eyes on me, like I’m some kinda deity. They’re practically drinking me in;