All Chapters of Falling For My Father's Best Friend : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Two days had passed since that dinner at GlassDoor Gourmet, and on the surface everything rolled on like normal; meetings, calls, quiet nights with Isabella in my arms or hers. But underneath it all, I couldn't stop thinking. About my parents' words, the casual cruelty, the way they had dissected her like she was a problem to solve. About the way Isabella had sat there afterward, eating in silence, fork moving mechanically while her eyes stayed dry and distant. About how I had held her hand under the table like that small gesture could undo what they had said. Balls!I had replayed it over and over in my head, every sharp comment, every dismissive glance, and each time the anger burned hotter. Not just at them, but at myself for not shutting it down faster, for not shielding her better. I asked her to meet my parents and watched as they destroyed her.I sat in my office now, staring at the blank screen where the camera feed used to be. "I shouldn't have done that" I muttered.Al

**MATEO'S POV**The clock on the nightstand glowed 2 a.m., casting a dim red light across the room that made everything feel too still, too quiet except for the soft rise and fall of Isabella's breathing beside me. She was sound asleep, her face relaxed in a way it rarely was when she was awake, a faint snore escaping her parted lips that told me she was exhausted from the night we'd had. "Good girl. Good girl" I muttered. I leaned over, pulling the sheet back just enough to see the marks again. The faint red lines around her wrists and ankles from the rope, darker bruises on her hips where I'd gripped too hard, her ass still pink from the slaps. I kissed each one gently, whispering apologies to her sleeping form, my lips brushing skin that felt too fragile under my touch, knowing I'd gone further than I should have, even if she'd begged for it.'I won't be this rough again. No matter how she beg me 'I dressed quietly in the dark, pants and shirt slipping on like armor I didn't wa

Charlottenburg welcomed me with gray skies and a chill that seeped straight into my bones the moment I stepped off the train from the airport. I'd chosen it because it felt far enough from the tourist heart of Berlin - no Brandenburg Gate crowds, no postcard views - just quiet streets lined with Altbau buildings, bakeries that smelled like fresh Brötchen, and the slow-moving Spree River nearby. Just the kind of place I hope Mateo wouldn't find me in. Just thinking about it. What of he decided to look for me? What if he gets pissed over everything and all I had made him spend on me? My new apartment was on the third floor of a pre-war block near Sophie-Charlotte-Platz: one bedroom, high ceilings, original hardwood that creaked under my feet, windows that looked out over a small courtyard where someone always seemed to be hanging laundry. It was nothing like Mateo's mansion - no marble, no staff, no security gates - but it was mine. That was enough. Truth be told, it reminded me more

Hectic was one word to use . I got back to the apartment utterly spent, legs heavy from the long shift, scrubs clinging to my skin with the faint smell of antiseptic and sweat. I didn't bother changing, I just kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag by the door, and collapsed face-first onto the bed still in my uniform, the mattress swallowing me like it understood how tired I was. Sleep took me almost instantly, deep and dreamless at first, until warmth wrapped around me and a familiar voice murmured against my ear. Mateo's voice."Good morning, babe."I smiled into the pillow, rolling over instinctively to kiss him back - but there was no one there. My body kept moving, momentum carrying me straight off the edge of the bed. I hit the floor with a hard thud, elbow jarring, breath knocked out for a second. The dream dissolved. Reality rushed in cold and empty."So fucking unfair" I hissed.I lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling, heart still racing from the phantom touch, then

The rest of the week went well and soon it was weekend. Saturday afternoon arrived fast. Not quite sunny, not quite rainy, just a gentle wash over the city that made everything feel quieter, slower, literally the slowest shift in my entire life. I had finished my morning shift at Charité hospital, a little after 14:30, the ward humming with the usual end-of-shift handover chatter, and for the first time this week I walked out without the knot of anxiety in my stomach. Damn it was good to get used to working again. The routine was settling in: I knew which supply closet had the extra IV lines, which nurse always left chocolate in the break room drawer, how to ask for a translation without sounding lost. Today had even had a small win.I couldn't tell why I felt so proud about it. It could be the way he looked at me after that. The way he smiled at me, like he was just noticing me. Again. I caught a subtle vitals discrepancy on a post-op patient during rounds and flagged it before i