บททั้งหมดของ Fifteen Years of Craving The Wrong Love : บทที่ 171 - บทที่ 180

Lyssa’s POV Darkness. That is the first thing I feel. Heavy darkness pressing against my body like deep water swallowing me whole. My chest aches faintly. My head feels impossibly heavy. Somewhere far away, voices drift in and out around me. “…still unconscious…” “…doctor said the swelling…” “…we need to wait…” The voices echo faintly together until I can no longer understand them. Then pain hits me immediately. A sharp burning pain explodes through my ribs so suddenly that a weak sound escapes my throat. Everything hurts. My arms. My legs. My head. Even breathing hurts. The machines around me immediately begin beeping faster. “Lyssa?” A familiar voice trembles nearby. “Lyssa, sweetheart?” My eyelids flutter weakly. Light stabs into my eyes so harshly I almost shut them again immediately. Everything is blurry at first. White ceiling. Hospital lights. Shadows moving around me. Then slowly, I recognize Anita’s face hovering above mine. Her eyes are swollen red from crying. “

Percy’s POV The second Lyssa says those words, the entire room seems to stop breathing. I stare at her from beside the hospital bed, my hand still wrapped tightly around hers. For a moment, I honestly think I heard her wrong. Claire? No. That doesn’t make sense. My jaw tightens slowly while Anita looks between both of us with growing confusion. “What are you talking about?” Anita asks carefully. Lyssa’s face has gone pale again. She looks shaken by the memory returning. Her fingers tremble lightly inside mine. “The ring,” she whispers again. “I’ve seen Claire wear it before.” A cold feeling crawls down my spine. I immediately shake my head. “That’s impossible.” But even as I say it, something ugly twists inside my chest. Because Claire does own a ring like that. A gold ring with a diamond-shaped head engraved into it. I bought it for her years ago while we were still in love. Before everything changed. My stomach turns violently. Anita notices my expression instantly. “You r

Percy’s POV For a second, I don’t move. The words don’t fully register at first—like my brain refuses to accept them. Your mother. It shouldn’t hit like a threat. It shouldn’t feel like the temperature in the room just dropped ten degrees. But it does. Lyssa tightens her grip on my hand instantly. I feel it before I even look at her. Every one who knew my family knew the kind of family I came from. “Your mother?” Anita repeats sharply, as if Megan misheard himself. “What is she doing here?” Megan’s jaw is tight. “She refused security. Said she’s coming up whether we allow it or not.” Of course she did. My mother doesn’t request entry into rooms. She announces presence like a storm and expects the world to rearrange itself. I exhale slowly, forcing my body to stay steady even though everything inside me is already shifting into defensive mode. Claire, media chaos, leaked footage, hospital lockdown… and now her. This is not coincidence. Nothing tonight is. Lyssa watches me car

Zeta POVI signal the waiter immediately.“Whiskey.” I say. Marcus raises a brow. “Starting strong.”“Make it a double,” I tell the waiter.Marcus leans back while watching me carefully.“She hit you again?”I don’t answer fast enough. That’s enough confirmation for him. He whistles quietly. “Damn.” I grab the drink the second it arrives and take a long swallow.The burn barely registers. “I’m tired of her,” I mutter.Marcus laughs into his glass.“That’s funny.”I glare at him. “What’s funny?”“You chose this.” He says. I say nothing. He points at me casually. “You had Lyssa.”That name alone twists something painful inside my chest. Marcus keeps talking.“You had a woman who adored you, respected you, would’ve done anything for you…” He shrugs. “And you picked Isabella instead.”I stare down at my drink quietly. Because he isn’t wrong. And somehow that makes everything worse. Marcus smirks slightly. “Lyssa would never hit you.”“No,” I say quietly.“She wouldn’t threaten your comp

Zeta POV The next morning, the smell of coffee fills the dining room before I even fully walk in. Sunlight pours through the massive windows of my parents’ estate, making everything look deceptively peaceful. Calm. Normal. It almost tricks me into believing my life is not slowly becoming a complete disaster. My mother sits at the long dining table flipping through some luxury travel magazine while the house staff moves around quietly serving breakfast. My father is already reading the morning paper with his usual unreadable expression. And Isabella… She sits beside my mother smiling softly while stirring tea. Too softly. Like last night never happened. Like she didn’t send me a damn picture that nearly gave me a heart attack. The memory instantly irritates me again. Her crying on the bathroom floor. The medicine bottles. The panic that clawed through my chest during the drive home. Then the realization that she manipulated me into coming back. I still haven’t fully processed ho