Semua Bab Beg, Because I won't Let You Go!: Bab 51 - Bab 60

The next morning, the routine changed. Usually, after a night of fire, Diego would vanish before dawn, leaving Hazel with tangled sheets and a piercing silence. But this morning, Hazel woke to the hum of an electric razor in the bathroom. When she opened her eyes, Diego was already standing before the wardrobe mirror, half-dressed in a crisp white shirt, tying his tie with the kind of concentration he usually reserved for billion-dollar mergers. Hazel watched him from beneath the covers with a faint smile. This change was subtle, yet significant. Throughout the day, brief messages from Diego arrived—a rare occurrence. [Diego (09:17): Meeting with Tokyo investors until noon. Your lunch has been ordered.] [Diego (14:43): Documents for the new magazine approved. Check you

Midnight. Hazel was submerged in a deep slumber after a day of fighting silent battles with her own thoughts. When a strong hand wrapped around her slender waist from behind, she didn’t wake completely. Her subconscious recognized the weight and shape of that arm, its warmth, and even its faint scent. Her tired body, thirsty for comfort, instinctively arched backward, pressing her back against the solid chest that served as her anchor. In a half-dream, she let out a soft sigh—a small sound of pure contentment—before sinking back into a dreamless sleep. Diego did not sleep. He lay in the dark, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Hazel’s body fit perfectly in his embrace, like the final piece of a long-lost puzzle. The contradiction stung: he, Diego Ronan Blake, who could have anything with a snap of his fingers,

At Herlington Daily Buzz, Hazel was diving into the analytics for the first edition of the new magazine. Her phone vibrated. First, a message from Diego about the burnt toast. She read it, and an involuntary small smile bloomed. She didn't reply. Let him wonder. Then, a second vibration. From Ethan Reed. [Ethan: I’ll drop by your office this afternoon. There’s something we need to discuss. Don’t worry, it’s regarding your project.] Hazel frowned. Her instincts screamed a warning. But she was also curious. What else did Ethan want? More importantly, how could she use his presence to her advantage? She replied briefly: [Hazel: I have an internal meeting until 1 PM. Please come after.]

"You investigated me, Diego?" Hazel’s voice sounded fragile, cracked by the shock and the sudden exposure of her vulnerability. "I didn't need to," Diego replied, his voice flat and logical. "You know that. If I want to know something, I simply ask, and someone tells me everything." It wasn't a boast of power, but a cold statement of fact about the world he ruled. "Leo Sullivan. He sent Scarlet… you know her, don't you?" That name—Scarlet—made Hazel fall silent. Yes, of course she knew her. The perfect crown princess of the Sullivan family, who since childhood had always looked at Hazel like a stain to be scrubbed away, whose sweet smiles always harbored poison. The memory was agonizing. "Th

The Charity Gala at the Museum of Modern Art was the centerpiece of the evening. Crystals shimmered, haute couture gowns fluttered by, and the whispers of the elite filled the air, thick with the scent of expensive perfume. But all of that dimmed the moment Hazel Quinn stepped inside, draped on the arm of Diego Blake. Her gown—a black sheath creation with an elegant high slit and a simple yet sensual neckline—looked as though it had been poured specifically onto her body. The fabric fell perfectly, highlighting her slender curves without trying too hard.  Her hair was gathered in a low bun, with a few stray strands intentionally left to frame her face, which was enhanced by only minimalist makeup, making the glow of her light grey eyes even more striking. A simple diamond necklace—a gift from Diego—sparkl