บททั้งหมดของ Once His Wallflower, Now His Biggest Mistake : บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

Chapter 51Caleb’s POVThe Half-Beard Incident had left my skin raw and my dignity non-existent, but the universe wasn't done with me yet. I was staring through the kitchen’s service window at the three people I hated most in the professional world: The Board of people who intended to buy my sweat, the Knight Group now owned as a plaything by the Sterlings.They were the vultures circling my own industry. Since my death, they had been trying to pick the Sterling family clean of every asset I had built. Today, they were in the penthouse to finalize the valuation of the Knight acquisition.The Sterlings clearly didn't see anything valuable but they seemed to pick an interest."Jean-Pierre!" Alaric’s voice barked from the dining room. "Bring out the celebratory dessert! These gentlemen have a flight to Zurich at four!"I looked at the prep table. I was currently sans-beard, waiting for a fresh batch of medical adhesive to arrive by courier. I couldn't go out there. If Julian or the int

Chapter 53: Evelyn’s POVThe silence following the Wig Heist was louder than Alaric’s pathetic wailing. I stood in the center of the kitchen, staring at the synthetic mass of hair Bane was currently chewing on like a prize."French meditation?" I whispered to the reinforced steel door of the walk-in freezer. My voice was a blade, cold and sharp enough to cut through the frost. "Jean-Pierre, if you don't open this door in three seconds, I am calling the fire department to cut you out, and you will be explaining your vapors to the NYPD."I heard a frantic, muffled thud from inside, followed by the rhythmic chattering of teeth.I didn't wait. I grabbed the heavy latch and hauled it open.A cloud of arctic mist rolled out, and with it, a shivering, trembling chef. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped around his chest. But he wasn't wearing a wig. His natural hair, thick, dark, and cut with a precision that didn't belong to a bumbling cook was damp with condensation.I didn't let him

Chapter 55: Caleb’s POVPart I: The Ghost in the HamptonsThe morning after the Great Avian Jewelry Heist, the atmosphere in the Sterling penthouse was somewhere between a funeral and a riot. Alaric was laid up in bed with a diamond-induced fever (and a mild ear infection from the pool water), and Julian was pacing the foyer like a caged tiger.I was in the kitchen, meticulously de-boning a duck for a lunch I knew no one would eat, when the 60-inch television in the lounge let out a breaking news chime that made my heart do a somersault."This is a Global News alert. We are receiving unconfirmed reports that Caleb Knight, the tech mogul presumed dead after his disappearance for a while now , was spotted this morning at a private airfield in the Hamptons."The knife slipped. I nearly took off my prosthetic thumb."Sacrebleu!" I yelled to the empty kitchen, throwing a handful of onions onto the cutting board to justify my sudden jumpiness.Through the service window, I saw Julian and

Chapter 57: Evelyn’s POVI knew he was Caleb. He may have known that I knew. But apparently, we were both committed to this absurdist theater piece until the curtains caught fire.After Julian’s Biometric Dinner, the tension in the penthouse was thick enough to spread on toast. Julian was walking around with a smug, predatory grin, and Jean-Pierre was vibrating with such intense secret-agent energy that he’d accidentally seasoned the morning coffee with cumin.I decided it was time to push back. If he wanted to play the Frenchman, I was going to make him work for his visa."Jean-Pierre!" I called out, leaning against the kitchen island.He was currently trying to massage a leg of lamb while wearing a new wig that looked suspiciously like a discarded disco prop. He jumped six inches into the air."Oui, Madame? You... eh... you desire ze breakfast? Ze crêpe of destiny?""No," I said, suppressing a smile. "I desire knowledge. You see, a very important investor is coming tonight for a p

Chapter 59 Caleb’s POVPart I: The Ghost’s DiscoveryThe morning after my collapse, the penthouse felt like a tomb. I had spent the night staring at Luna’s glittery card, my eyes swollen to the size of walnuts. I couldn't be Caleb Knight, and being Jean-Pierre felt like wearing a suit made of barbed wire. I was a man caught between two lives, and both were burning.I was in the back of the walk-in pantry, restocking a crate of vintage balsamic, when I leaned my weight against the cedar-lined wall. To my shock, the wood didn't hold. There was a faint, metallic click, and a section of the shelving, hidden behind a row of heavy flour sacks swung inward on silent, greased hinges.I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.I grabbed a flashlight and stepped inside. It was a narrow, dust-free corridor, a secret service passage built during the Prohibition era, likely for servants to move without being seen by guests. I followed it, my breath hitching, until I reach