Chapter Seventy-One-The wait

AnnaThe waiting room was an agonizing exercise in expensive minimalism. Brushed steel, white leather, and the kind of silence that feels like a physical weight. On the wall, a digital clock blinked with a rhythmic tick that seemed to sync with the frantic drumming of my heart.I sat on the edge of the chair, my back as rigid as a board. Beside me, Sage was a silent anchor. He hadn't tried to fill the space with useless chatter and I was so glad for his silence. He just sat there, his shoulder brushed against mine, a steady heat in the freezing air of the hospital.I looked down at my lap. My right hand was tucked firmly under my left thigh, a desperate attempt to pin the tremors down, to hide the evidence of my own body’s betrayal."You're holding your breath again," Sage whispered. His voice was low, meant only for me, cutting through the hum of the air conditioner."I'm fine," I snapped, though the lie tasted like ash."Anna." He reached over, and for the first time, I didn't pull

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Chapter Seventy-Two:The Conditional consent

Casino’18The Red Velvet Casino was a chaotic symphony of clinking coins, electronic chirps, and the desperate sighs of losers. The air was thick with the smell of stale tobacco and cheap cologne. The Red light flickered lazily as the thick fumes and stench of smoke filled the placeAgnes’s husband, a man whose face was etched with the maps of a thousand bad decisions in the form of scars, sat at a corner table. His eyes were glued to his phone screen. When it finally chirped with a credit alert from Agnes, he didn't smile with relief. Instead, he hissed through his yellowed teeth."Is that all?" he muttered. “This meagre sum?”He glanced around the room, making sure no one was watching. He slid a burner phone out of his pocket—not the one he used to call his wife. His fingers, stained with nicotine, dialed a number that wasn't saved in his contacts.The call picked up on the second ring. No one said hello."I have it," the husband whispered, hunching over the table to muffle his voic

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Chapter Seventy-Three:Hidden Pressure

Anna's Residence…AshleyThe kitchen was filled with the rhythmic sound of a knife hitting the cutting board—thwack, thwack, thwack. I was trying to focus on the onions, on the sizzle of the pan, on the recipe I thought Anna would like. I didn't know what she liked so I wanted to do something special. I wanted the house to smell like home when she walked in. I wanted to prove I was okay, that the girl who had been broken in a cramped space was finally putting her pieces back together.“Oh, I can't wait for her to taste this. She'd be in awe” I laughed at the thought of her face lit up in a ‘you cook?’ surprising way.Then, the vibration started. My phone danced on the sleek marble countertop, a nameless string of digits glowing on the screen. I wiped my hands on my apron, my heart giving a small, uneasy thump. I changed my sim already so I only have Anna's number saved on this phone and this is an unknown number calling. Maybe it's her second number."Hello?" I said, my voice barely

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Chapter Seventy-Four–Inferno

Sage's Residence Sage drove through the automatic gate of his home. It was one of the cherished tech-infused appliances he got from Niche group of companies. The gate only opens to cars that have been authorized by the owner. Sage got down from the car and entered his home, the heavy front door clicking shut with the muffled sound of high-end precision. The four-bedroom duplex was a masterpiece. It was a space where simple lines met immense luxury.The living area featured soaring double-height ceilings and walls of floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked a manicured private garden. The floors were polished white oak, softened by a single, massive silk rug in a slate-gray hue. Low-profile Italian leather furniture sat in conversational clusters, and the lighting was recessed and warm, highlighting a few choice pieces of abstract bronze sculpture. It was a home designed for a man of taste and order, but tonight, the vastness of the rooms felt cold. The silence didn't feel like peace,

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Chapter Seventy-five: The shot again

Bluey's room The West Wing was bathed in the golden, deceptive glow of the afternoon sun. Inside Bluey's room, the air was filled with the scent of lavender sachets and the rustle of expensive fabrics. The closer door was opened as both women took short trips from the closet to the bed with a sparse amount of clothing.“What's your name?” Bluey asked the young maid.“My name is Mabel, ma'am” Mabel responded respectfully.Mabel, a young maid with a perpetually cheerful demeanour, was kneeling by an open suitcase, carefully layering Bluey’s silk robes into the suitcase. Bluey stood by her, her phone clutched in her hand, her mind was miles away trapped in the amber of Khaid’s intense gaze from their last encounter and his new found fond way of calling her by her real name, Satera. "Are you sure you want to take the velvet gown, Miss Bluey?" Mabel asked, looking up with a bright, dimpled smile. "The Boss mentioned the Central Wing is much warmer. You might find it too heavy."Bluey bli

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Semua Bab Rise of the Rejected; Bred by the Mafia CEO: Bab 71 - Bab 75

Chapter Seventy-One-The wait

Chapter Seventy-Two:The Conditional consent

Chapter Seventy-Three:Hidden Pressure

Chapter Seventy-Four–Inferno

Chapter Seventy-five: The shot again