Lahat ng Kabanata ng CLAIM ME, STEP-BROTHER. : Kabanata 121 - Kabanata 130

Zara’s POV Being a mother was exhausting. Nobody had warned me that the hardest part wouldn’t be the sleepless nights or the diapers or the tantrums. It would be waking up every morning and immediately wondering what new disaster my child had managed to create before breakfast. And unfortunately, Alberto was extremely creative. “Mama!” I froze halfway down the hallway when I heard him scream my name. And that particular tone he used, meant trouble. It was the kind that usually involved cleaning supplies. I hurried toward the kitchen without any more thoughts, and the second I walked in, I stopped. Then I closed my eyes, but I opened them again, and yet the mess remained. Flour covered half the kitchen. Eggshells littered the counter. Milk dripped from the edge of the table. And standing proudly in the middle of it all was my four-year-old son, holding a wooden spoon covered in flour from head to toe, like a tiny criminal standing at the scene of his own crime. “Mama.” His smi

Matteo's POVFive years later, fear was a useful thing. People underestimated it. They believed power stemmed from money, influence, or even violence.But they were wrong power came from fear. Over the last five years, I have become very good at inspiring it.The man kneeling in front of me knew that better than anyone. Blood dripped from his nose onto the warehouse floor. The smell of gasoline lingered in the air and around us, twenty armed men stood silently. Waiting and nobody dared speak.I stared at the traitor for several seconds before finally looking down at the file in my hand.“You stole from me.”His breathing hitched.“Mr. Ferraro—”“You stole from me.”The warehouse fell silent again but I didn’t yell. I rarely did anymore. People found the quiet version of me far more terrifying still. “It was a mistake.” The gentleman in front of me said.“Three million euros,” I said and his face immediately went pale.I took a step forward.“Five dead soldiers.”“Two intercepted shi

Zara’s POVThe moment I stepped out of the airport, Italy hit me like a memory I had spent years trying to bury even though the air felt different and warmer. Yet dangerously familiar.I stood beside my suitcase for a second longer than necessary, taking in the sounds around me. Italian voices filled the parking lot. Cars honked somewhere in the distance. A little girl laughed as she ran past her exhausted parents.Five years and somehow nothing had changed or maybe everything had.A loud squeal suddenly cut through my thoughts at that moment and I froze.“ZARA!”Before I could react, Sofia slammed into me and I nearly lost my balance.“Sofia!” She hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe and then she pulled away only to hug me again.“Oh my God.”She looked me over dramatically.“You actually came.”I laughed.“You invited me.”“You almost didn’t.”Well that was fair, because for months, I had considered cancelling every week, every day and sometimes every hour.But somehow I was

Zara’s POVI had forgotten how terrifying wedding preparations could be. Now it wasn’t even my own wedding. I was talking about weddings in general.Especially when Sofia was the bride because Sofia approached wedding planning the same way military generals approached war.With spreadsheets. Schedules. Strategies. And absolutely no mercy.Which was how I found myself standing in the middle of an expensive bridal boutique at ten o’clock in the morning wondering where exactly my life had gone wrong.“Absolutely not.”Sofia pointed dramatically.“The sleeves are ugly.”The saleswoman visibly flinched and I covered my face.“Sofia.”“What?”“You can’t call them ugly.”“They are ugly.”The poor woman looked offended and I immediately smiled apologetically. Unfortunately, Sofia remained completely unbothered.Three dresses later, she was still unhappy, five dresses later, she became dramatic. Eight dresses later, she threatened to cancel the entire wedding.Nobody believed her, least of all

Zara’s POVIf wedding planning was chaos…A bachelorette party was complete insanity. By nine o’clock that evening, Sofia’s apartment had transformed into something I barely recognized.Pink decorations hung from every available surface. Music blasted through speakers. Champagne bottles sat chilling in buckets of ice.And somehow there were already six women dancing in the living room before the night had officially started.I stood near the kitchen island holding a drink and wondering how things had escalated so quickly.“This is your fault.”I pointed at Sofia. She looked absolutely stunning in a white satin dress and a ridiculous tiara that read Bride-to-Be.And then she grinned as she walked past me.“It absolutely is.”Then she pulled back and grabbed my wrist.“No standing.”“Sofia—”“No.”She started dragging me toward the crowd.“Tonigh