All Chapters of Vegas Hangover: A Husband and a baby: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

LORENZO The warehouse seemed melancholic. I watched her walk around admiring my installation, which once brought me so much pleasure but was now tainted by her presence. I never thought I would one day be there with her, the cause of my scars, the one who calls herself my owner. I looked at this place again, and I had one certainty when I was done with this. I wouldn't be able to look at it with the same eyes. This would be the last time the mischief room would be used. For that, we must first give it a proper farewell! One worthy of its owner, Lorenzo O'Connor. I approached Manuela, my hands sliding down her narrow hips, a seductive journey to the space between her legs before moving up to her medium-sized silicone breasts. I shamelessly played with them until I heard her gasp. "What are you going to do with me?" she asked breathlessly... "Let's not ruin the surprise..." I whispered seductively, finally pulling her red dress off. "But now that we are here, Ella, you are mi

NESSIE I woke up with a start, my breathing erratic as I looked for the reason why I had woken up in the middle of the night. Other than my bedroom curtain dancing gently as the breeze touched it, there was nothing out of the ordinary. I search for my glasses on the nightstand by touch, and I scream when I feel a hand grab mine and immediately cover my mouth, muffling my scream. My heartbeat collapsed before going crazy. I try to struggle, but I calm down when I hear that disturbingly familiar voice I missed so much... "Calm down, it is me." A shadow steps in front of me. He took his hand off my mouth. Even though I practically couldn't see anything and wanted to hit him for scaring the crap out of me, I couldn't say anything. Not for lack of words, but simply because before I could ask him what he was doing there and how he got into my room, his hand was on the back of my neck, and minutes later I was being kissed roughly. My train of thought went out the window with no ETA for

MIRANDA The rumble of the truck woke me up. Had I dozed off? The drool pooling at the corner of my mouth left no doubt. Not that it was a surprise. In these past two days, with my hormones raging due to worry and anxiety, I hadn't had a decent night's sleep. I noticed my dad's truck parking in front of the mansion. I looked at my sister, who was nervously staring at the mansion's entrance while discreetly wiping her shoulder, damp from my drool. I couldn't blame her. In that house, just a few rooms away, was the woman who abandoned us so long ago. Even though they promised not to confront Manuela, no one would have the nerves of steel to act politely and forget what she did to us. My dad sighed in annoyance as he took off his bowtie. "This thing is suffocating me," he said, annoyed. "I don't know how these rich snobs can stand this," he grumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt before shooting us a sharp look. "What are you waiting for? Get out of the car." Except my dad. I looked at Am

MIRANDA"It is a conspiracy," Amanda started, slamming her fist on the table, making the spoons of my cupcake clatter on the already empty plate. "It has to be! Who should I call to complain about the service? Where are the drinks?"An hour had passed. No dances were performed on the dance floor, nor any presentations in honor of Mother's Day. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, except that between a few sips of alcohol, my sister was flushed and smiling, and my dad was scaring away any waiter within a 30-foot radius with his threatening glare if they dared to walk in our direction with a tray of drinks. This left a drunk Amanda confused as to why she didn't have her rosé wine. She said, with her green eyes wide, that we were being ignored by the waiters. Snuggled in Marlon's arms, I felt his hand on my belly while he chatted with Brad, who had grabbed his chair and moved to our table as soon as he saw us. His sister Julianna, who looked familiar to me from somewhere, was at her tab

MANUELA It was a lie. All my things, my clothes, my jewelry, my creams, perfumes, and shoes; half of them were inside heavy suitcases that the butler Cesar and August were carrying to the car. That is how I woke up this morning after my divorce. I woke up startled by the damn employees who ignored my protests and screams, gathered my things like hoarders, and took my stuff out of the mansion in record time under the curious gaze of Sarah, who watched the commotion from the top of the stairs. Wasn't it enough that she had witnessed my humiliation and stolen my little girl? Did this chubby little cork have to watch yet another humiliation that Thomas was forcing me to endure? As if summoned by my thoughts, I heard his voice. "Are you finished yet?" I looked over my shoulder, stunned, unable to believe that today I would be leaving that house, far away from all my luxuries, to who-knows-where Thomas's twisted mind was imagining. A tightness in my chest, which I suspect is the beg