บททั้งหมดของ The Bet That Ruined Us : บทที่ 81 - บทที่ 90

[PRIVATE LOUNGE ] The private lounge was tucked away on the top floor of one of the city's most exclusive hotels, a space reserved for members only. The interior was all dark wood paneling, plush leather seating, and subdued lighting that created an atmosphere of secrecy and discretion. It was the kind of place where powerful people met to discuss things they did not want the world to know about. Sasha Volkov sat in a corner booth, partially hidden from view by a decorative screen. A bottle of expensive wine sat on the table in front of her, half empty, and she swirled the dark liquid in her glass with an air of impatience. Her phone lay face-up on the table, and she had checked it at least a dozen times in the past twenty minutes. She was about to pick it up again, to send an irritated text demanding to know where the hell he was, when she saw him enter the lounge. Nathaniel Brooks walked through the entrance, his hair slightly disheveled as if he had been running his hands through

The three SUVs moved through the city traffic in a coordinated convoy, the lead vehicle carrying Shayla, Ruby, and Ayven, with Lucas behind the wheel. The two security vehicles flanked them, one in front and one behind, filled with Grayson's private security team. Ruby sat in the back seat next to Shayla, scrolling through her phone and occasionally laughing at something she saw. Shayla sat beside her, looking out the window with a small smile, enjoying the rare afternoon off from classes. In the front passenger seat, Ayven had insisted on sitting, arguing that he was old enough to sit in the front like a grown-up. Lucas had agreed, much to Shayla's exasperation, and now Ayven sat with his seatbelt securely fastened, chattering away about his excitement to see Grandma Madonna. "Rubees, fine girlie will love you, trust me," Ayven said, turning in his seat to look at Ruby. "I have told her so much about you. She is really excited to meet my dynamic duo partner." "You told her, or I d

[RICARDO'S MANSION - LIVING ROOM] The massive flat-screen TV displayed Ruby's latest runway show, the footage captured in stunning high definition. Ruby sat curled up on the plush sofa, squeezed between her boyfriend Ricardo and his older sister Summer, a bowl of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap. "Oh my God, pause it, pause it!" Summer shrieked, pointing at the screen. "Ruby, what is that face you are making? You look like you are constipated!" Ricardo grabbed the remote and hit pause, freezing the image of Ruby mid-stride on the runway, her face caught in an admittedly unflattering expression. Ruby gasped, her mouth dropping open. "I do not look constipated! That is my smolder!" "That is your what?" Ricardo asked, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. "My smolder! You know, like a sexy, mysterious look." "Baby, that is not a smolder," Ricardo said, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "That is... I do not even know what that is, but it is definitely n

Time had a strange way of flying when life was good. The days had blurred together in a mix of classes, family time, and stolen moments with Grayson. Shayla had thrown herself into her studies with renewed vigor, determined to prove that going back to medical school had been the right decision. Her practical exam had been grueling, three hours of demonstrating surgical techniques, identifying anatomical structures, and answering rapid-fire questions from the examining panel. She had walked out of that exam room exhausted and uncertain, her hands shaking from the adrenaline and stress. But when the results were posted two days later, there it was. Her name. At the top of the list. She had not just passed. She had gotten the highest score in her class. Shayla had called Grayson immediately, practically screaming into the phone with excitement. He had laughed at her enthusiasm, his voice warm with pride and love, and told her to stay exactly where she was. He had a surprise for her. T

FIVE-STAR HOTEL GRAND BALLROOM] The grand ballroom of the Rosewood Hotel had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting prismatic light across the room. White and gold fabric draped elegantly along the walls, interspersed with cascading arrangements of white gardenias and pink peonies, Shayla's favorites. Round tables dressed in ivory linens surrounded a spacious dance floor, each centerpiece a work of art featuring candles and more flowers. A live band played soft jazz in one corner, their music providing the perfect backdrop for conversation and laughter. A massive cake, five tiers of white fondant decorated with edible gold leaf and sugar flowers, sat on display near the main table. And at the entrance, a custom backdrop read "Happy 28th Birthday Ayla" in elegant gold script, perfect for photos. Grayson had gone all out. This was not the small, intimate gathering Shayla had requested. This was a celebration befi