Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 121 - Chapitre 130

[Sarah’s POV]The headache started as a dull throb behind my eyes, a relentless reminder that the sun had risen long before my mind had found peace. I had spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, the silk sheets of my bed feeling like sandpaper against my skin. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tyler’s silhouette in his study and the invisible presence of Skye. By the time the first cock crowed at daybreak, signaling the start of another day at the Hale Estate, I had finally succumbed to a shallow, restless sleep. When I eventually dragged myself out of bed, the house felt unusually quiet. I descended the stairs, my feet heavy, and headed straight for the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon usually acted as a balm for my soul, but today, it made my stomach churn. Rosa was at the stove, while Mae was busy polishing the silver at the breakfast nook. The moment I stepped into the room, the air seemed to shift. They didn't even have to look up t

[Sarah’s POV]I was nearly past the laundry house when a sharp, jagged sound broke the evening stillness. It wasn't the rhythmic thrum of the industrial washers; it was the unmistakable sound of a human voice raised in a pitch of desperation.I paused, my boots crunching on the gravel. The voice was high-pitched, brittle, and vibrating with an authority that was rapidly unraveling. It was Vivian.I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the laundry house, and the humid, steam-filled air hit me like a physical blow. The scene inside was one of chaotic tension. Two of my long-term cleaners, Maria and Elena, were backed against a folding table piled high with white linens. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide with fear.Standing in the center of the room, looking like a shattered porcelain doll, was Vivian. Her hair, usually pinned in a perfect, immovable chignon, was fraying at the edges. Her silk blouse was wrinkled, and her face was flushed a deep, unhealthy crimson."Give it back!" V

[Tyler’s POV]The champagne had turned Skye into something unpredictable. As the band transitioned into a slow, rhythmic crawl that vibrated through the floorboards of the yacht, she pressed herself against me, her hands draped over my shoulders with a heavy, possessive weight."You’re too tense, Tyler," she whispered into the shell of my ear, her breath warm and smelling of expensive bubbles. "The world isn't going to end if you lose control for five minutes.""I’m not tense, Skye. I’m observant," I replied, my hands resting loosely on her waist.Over her shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Sarah across the room. She was talking to a venture capitalist, her posture perfect, her expression a mask of professional cool. But I saw the way her eyes flickered toward the dance floor for a fraction of a second. She’s nothing like her mother. Sarah’s warning echoed in my skull like a funeral bell.Skye began to sway her hips, the movement exaggerated and sharp, drawing the eyes of every man in t

[ Sarah’s POV ]Even worse than the physical mess was the humiliation. I, Sarah Hale, a woman who had built an empire and stared down corporate vultures, had been caught lurking at a door like a common voyeur.I leaned against the railing of the restricted deck, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. I felt like a disaster. The front of my midnight-blue silk gown was plastered to my skin, cold and tacky from the champagne bath I’d given myself. I reached for my hip, intending to find my clutch, only to realize with a jolt of panic that I’d left it at the bar with Nick. My phone, my lipstick, and—most importantly—the keycard to my private suite were all sitting in a pile of sequins near a man I had abandoned mid-sentence. "Excuse me? Guests aren't allowed in this section." The voice was deep, steady, and cut through the sound of the crashing waves. I froze, my shoulders tensing. I turned slowly, expecting a stern security guard or a judgmental steward. Instead, I found myself star

[Tyler’s POV] I hadn't slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the image of that waiter... Cole... sitting on Sarah’s bed. I found the lead organizer, Elena. She was supervising the breakfast setup, barking orders at the staff. "I want to know everything about him," I said, stepping into her line of sight. I didn't need to raise my voice, the sheer gravity of my presence usually did the work for me. "The waiter from the fourth deck last night. Name tag said Cole." Elena turned, her expression shifting from irritation to a polished, hungry sort of curiosity the moment she recognized me. She smoothed her blazer, her fingers lingering a second too long on her lapel. "Mr. Rider. A pleasure to see you this morning, though you look like you’ve been up quite late." She tilted her head, her voice dropping into a purr. "Did something happen? We have very strict protocols. If that boy disrespected you or any of our distinguished guests, I can promise you he won’t just be fired. We’ll ma