บททั้งหมดของ Fifteen Years of Craving The Wrong Love : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Lyssa’s POVZeta refuses to spend the night in the room Grandpa gave us.He stands at the doorway, jacket already on, phone in his hand, focused on typing. His face is looking worried.“I’ll take the guest room down the hall,” he says.He steps inside just long enough to close the door halfway. The next day, I try to be in my space. “You didn’t even ask how I feel.” He say His jaw tightens, just a little. “I know how you feel.” I reply. “You don’t,” he snap. “If you did, you wouldn’t walk away like you did last night.”He looks at me then, really looks at me, and his eyes soften in a way that makes my chest ache. “Lyssa…”I scoff. “Can you please let me be?”He moves closer, stops a foot away. “I don’t want us saying things we can’t take back. I don’t want you to see me as an enemy.The next morning, I’m in the kitchen with the maid, trying to prepare breakfast so we could eat before leaving and head back to our home.“You’re awake early, madam,” the maid says gently.“I couldn’t

Zeta’s POVI wasn’t as wasted as Lyssa suspected and I could still drive us home. She refused and was trying to convince me to step into the car. Her expression was cold as she complained about my reckless driving. She was convinced I was going to hit someone if I should drive and didn’t trust my judgment.“Get in,” she says, voice clipped, chin lifted. “You’re not driving.”“I told you, I can,” I say calmly. “I’ve driven in worse conditions than this.”“This isn’t a negotiation, Zeta.” She shakes the keys once, a sharp metallic sound between us. “You’re drunk.”“I had a few drinks,” I correct. “I’m not drunk.”“You missed the handle twice,” she replies. “That’s not ‘a few drinks.’ That’s poor coordination.”“I tripped,” I say. “And it’s normal for anyone to trip.” I say.“Stop,” she cuts in. “Just stop.” Her eyes flick over my face, searching, judging. “I’m driving.”I hold her gaze. “You don’t trust me.”“I don’t trust your judgment right now,” she says. “There’s a difference.”“The

Zeta’s POVOnce we returned home, I didn’t wait for her to even kick off her shoes. The front door clicked shut behind us as we entered, and I rounded on her right there in the foyer. Trying to get her attention since she’s been avoiding me in the car.“I hope you don’t have the intention of saying anything to grandfather? You really thought you could pull that stunt with Grandpa Edmund and I wouldn’t notice?” I asked, stepping closer. “Playing the loyal granddaughter-in-law card, dropping hints so he’d come storming into my office like father did? You honestly believed you’d get away with it? I hope to God you didn’t feed him any details about Isabella.”Lyssa didn’t flinch. She just looked at me for one long second, then turned and walked straight into the kitchen like I hadn’t spoken. I followed, my temper simmering.She opened the fridge, pulled out the leftover grilled chicken and quinoa salad the chef had prepped earlier, and started plating food for herself. So calm and peacef

Lyssa POVHe fucks me so well and he is big down there and I love it. I’m obsessed with his touch. He isn’t yet even fully himself. The aftermath of his alcohol spree is still on his lips and his words are still slurred. But, I have still fallen for him and his words. Heck, I have allowed him to play his game again. I should not hate him but rather myself who is always drawn to him.The doorbell rings again, cutting through the haze of my thoughts. Zeta freezes inside me, his breath hot against my neck, and then he pulls out slowly. My legs unwrap from his waist, and I slide off the table, my dress half-zipped. He steps back, adjusting his pants.Zeta immediately leaves me in that heated pleasure. I hate it. And I shouldn’t be losing myself with him, not after he treated me like a second-class thought, but I can’t always resist him whenever he wants to have me.As I zip up my dress, I can feel the wetness between my thighs, a reminder of how easily I gave in, and it makes me angrier

Lyssa POV The next day, I can’t find Zeta in the room where we slept. “Zeta?” My voice comes out rough, from my sleep. I sit up slowly, the sheets sliding down my legs. “Zeta?” But no answer. I glance around the room, blinking against the light slipping through the curtains. His side of the bed is cold and neat. The pillows are arranged like no one touched them after dawn. That alone makes my chest tighten. Where is he? I wonder. “He left already,” I mutter to myself, pressing my palm to my head in ache. I shift to stand, and suddenly my stomach twists violently in pain. “Oh—” I wince as I roll back onto the bed, clutching my stomach. A wave of nausea hits me so hard immediately, my vision blurs. I feel dizzy too. I curl slightly, breathing through it. It must be a bad flu or food poisoning. That’s all. I’ll just take some drugs if I have to. Suddenly , a knock sounds softly on the door before it opens. “Ma’am?” the housekeeper asks gently, stepping in. Her eyes scan t