Lahat ng Kabanata ng In Bed With The MC President: Kabanata 141 - Kabanata 150

MilaAaron stayed where he was standing for a long moment. He didn't move a muscle as if he was letting his brain process the word slowly.Then suddenly, he gave a single nod and walked away, vanishing into the hallway. I stood there, wrapped in the softest wool imaginable.That night, I didn't sleep. Most of the time, I was sitting by the glass window of my bedroom, watching the sky bleed from a bruised purple into a pale grey.The sun began to peek over the ten-foot concrete walls of the estate, casting long shadows across the lawn.I watched the armed patrols moving. Every fifteen minutes.I thought about the library. I thought about the soup. I thought about the way he knew I skipped Chapter Three of The Count of Monte Cristo.He knew my habits. He knew my tastes. He knew my weaknesses.But Aaron Wylder had made one fatal mistake in his years of observation. He had watched me as a subject, as a "thing" to be protected and possessed. He had seen the girl who survived the fosters

MilaI picked up the first photo. It was grainy, taken from a distance. It was a girl sitting on a swing set in a park I remembered from the foster. She was wearing a tattered yellow dress, her hair in messy braids.It was me. I was ten years old.I grabbed another. Me at twelve, walking on the foster lawn with a bruised knee. Me at fourteen, sitting on a bench, staring at the tallest tree with a look of hollow exhaustion I remembered all too well.There were dozens of them. Hundreds.Every milestone. Every moment of my miserable, lonely childhood. There were photos of me eating a stolen apple. Photos of me crying behind a dumpster after my mother died.I flipped through them and my breath came in jagged, terrified gasps. This wasn't just a surveillance. This was a life. He had been watching me.At the very bottom of the folder, I found a small, yellowed scrap of paper. It was a drawing. A child’s drawing of a silver serpent and a golden anchor. My heart stopped. Mine. It was my

MilaThe sound of his voice triggered a violent memory in my mind.I wasn't looking at Aaron anymore. I was looking at a Little boy.Twenty Three years agoSt. Jude's basement…I was six years old.The foster home was a purgatory of peeling wallpaper, the perpetual smell of bleach, and the cries of abandoned children. It was a place where you learned to shrink yourself to survive. But there was one boy who didn't shrink. He simply existed outside of the chaos.He was four or five years older than me maybe ten or eleven but his eyes were ancient. He moved through the drafty, miserable halls like a phantom, utterly detached from the brutality around him. He never joined the games in the yard. He never spoke to the wardens, not even when they withheld his meals as punishment for his silence. He never spoke to the other kids.There were only two exceptions.He would occasionally tolerate Justin, whose relentless, stubborn chatter was the only thing capable of piercing the boy's armor. And

MilaThe string of coincidences was so impossible it felt like a sick joke the universe had played on me. The man I had drawn that broken crayon picture for, the boy who had promised me an empire, had been standing in the shadows of my entire life, watching me stumble, watching me fall and watching me marry a man who would eventually break my spirit."You knew." I whispered as I yanked my wrist out of his grip. "You watched Caleb hit me? You watched me walk into that emergency room with a bruised rib and you did nothing? You were the CEO of his company! You could have fired him! You could have stopped it!"Aaron shook his head. "I didn't know the extent of it at first, Mila. He was careful. But when I finally realized what he was doing... I was going to end him. I promise." He paused."But then Ryan stepped in." Aaron said as his voice registered into a dangerous, icy tone. "Ryan found you. And despite everything I felt, despite every instinct screaming at me to take you from him...

MilaRichard Wylder. The man who helped Ryan to destroy Caleb and save me. He was behind all this.My mind raced, desperately trying to find a hole in Aaron’s logic or a lie in his eyes. But there was nothing. Only the terrifying, suffocating truth.I had to take a few deep breaths before steadying myself. "If you knew." I forced the words out of my mouth. "If you knew he was planning this, you could have warned us! You could have told me or warned Ryan! We could have reinforced the clubhouse. We could have hidden!"Aaron’s eyes darkened, the shattered green hardening into something sharp and unapologetic. "Warn Ryan?" He arched a brow. "So he could do what, Mila? Start a street war with a billionaire who owns the police commissioner and three federal judges? Ryan would have taken his guns and marched right up to the Wylder estate. Richard would have legally wiped the Reapers off the map before dinner, and you still would have ended up in a black site.""You could have told me!" I y