บททั้งหมดของ My Stepbrother’s Cruel Obsession (BL): บทที่ 161 - บทที่ 170

LUKE’S POVThe drive back to the mansion after my conversation with Riley and Steven on campus was a hell.My classmates' words echoed in my ears with an unbearable frequency: Richard's absolute bankruptcy, Marcus's execution, the Bianchis' destroyed containers, and the image of an unhinged Frederick, consumed by paranoia and alcohol solely because I had evaporated from his side.Upon crossing the property's gate, I went straight up to the east wing bedroom, attempting to turn off my head.I took a long bath, feeling the hot water slide down my tired skin, but the image of his haggard face and his eyes flooded with tears as he got on his knees in front of me couldn't be erased from my mind.At two in the morning, insomnia defeated me completely. The bedroom felt way too big, freezing and suffocating at the same time. I needed a glass of water.I put on a light fabric pair of pants, left my torso bare, and walked down the grand stone staircase barefoot. As I passed in front of the west

POV: Third PersonThe morning light barely crossed the curtains of the main suite when Frederick's encrypted phone vibrated on the nightstand. Luke remained asleep by his side, his head resting on his chest. Frederick extended his arm carefully so as not to wake him and answered the call without making a sound."Speak fast," he ordered in a gelid whisper."Mr. Bayron... we have a serious problem at the provincial supreme court," Darrel informed with an altered voice. "Dean Harrison just filed an injunction and an asset freezing lawsuit against the Sigma firm."Frederick clenched his jaw, sitting on the edge of the mattress."The campus dean?" he questioned with contempt. "That moron received two million dollars yesterday morning.""He took advantage of the gala's scandal and the rumor of your emotional collapse to ally himself with the federal prosecution," the accountant broken down. "He assures that the trust fund money comes from money laundering at the southern customs. He demands

POV: FrederickThe armored car stopped in front of the mansion's staircase. The cordon officers opened the door with reverence, but I didn't pay them the least attention. With the victory in court secured and the entire city aligned behind the lesson Luke gave Harrison in the tribunals, the Sigma firm was finally safe.I took Luke gently by the elbow. He looked at me with his chin held high, holding the leather briefcase where the victorious files rested."Walk with me to the private office, little bird," I asked him in a low hiss, my voice clean of any rough order."What are we going there for, Frederick?" he asked, driving his pupils into me. "The hearing ended. Harrison is cornered by the prosecution and the campus funds are under control.""The last clause of this marriage remains to be closed," I responded to him, holding his gaze. "We are going to finish this where it started."Luke tilted his head, evaluating the seriousness of my features, and nodded. We walked up the stone st

"Point number one," I broke down for him, digging my fingers into his neck: "There will be no more accounting secrets. Every ship entering the northern port, every customs container, and every offshore transaction passes through my desk first before bearing your digital signature.""Done," he nodded immediately. "Half of the central server keys are yours starting this very second.""Point number two," I continued, bringing my hand down to his tense chest: "The total reorganization of this house. The underground service area is closed today. All personnel move to the official payroll with decent salaries, legal contracts, medical insurance, and absolute freedom to resign whenever they damn well please. No more servants intimidated by your thugs."Frederick let out a long hiss, evaluating my posture with a mixture of respect and hungry desire."Do you want to turn my fortress into a unionized company, Luke?" he mocked in a dark whisper."I want this mansion to stop being a dungeon and b

POV: Third PersonThe afternoon sun fell over the remodeled gardens of the southern mansion, dyeing the polished lawn and marble terraces with a faint golden hue. The scent of jasmine and the clean breeze rising from the dock replaced the old plague of gunpowder and humidity that used to suffocate the property. Three months after the collapse of the rival factions, the terrain looked unrecognizable. There were no hooded thugs roaming among the rose bushes nor customs patrols blocking the main entrance; in their place, a discreet cordon of private security watched the outer perimeter in absolute order.On the large stone terrace, two circular tables draped in white linen hosted a reduced and exclusive group of guests. Riley was conversing in a low voice with Steven while drinking glasses of wine. A couple of meters further away, Elena was coordinating the house waiters, making sure that each circular tray complied with the property's new directives. Darrel, with a stack of executive fo