Lahat ng Kabanata ng Call Me Fake Heiress? Now I Bought My Ex's Company: Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

In the back of a black Sienna, Camille sat, eyes glued to the screen of her phone as she witnessed the world turn against her in real time.Her nails were bitten raw, the skin around them red and irritated, but she didn’t seem to notice as she scrolled endlessly through her phone.One article bled into another, headlines stacking on top of each other and opinions morphing faster than she could process.[Haha, look how stupid you all look. Just because she says something you all believe it’s true. Now the real liars are about to be exposed.]One of the comments read.Camille felt her hand tighten around her phone and her chest tightened with something similar to loss.Loss of the image and fans she'd painstakingly built over the past few years.She gritted her teeth and kept scrolling.[Said it once and I’ll say it again, never trust a celebrity. They only let you see what they want you to. Once again, I’ve been proven right.]Another comment read. But that wasn't what caught Camille’s

In the thirteen years Mirena had known Alexander, there was one undeniable truth she’d learned early on and had never once seen disproven.Alexander Peirce did not give things up.Not seats, not positions, not opportunities and sure as hell, not victories.Not even the smallest, most insignificant things.Back in college, during their first year, when the cafeteria was packed and only one seat remained—by the window, his favorite—Alexander had gotten there first. She’d arrived barely a second later, tray in hand, exhausted from back-to-back lectures and the kind of skin burning irritation that came with cramps.Anyone else would have shrugged, maybe offered to share the table, maybe even stood up.Alexander hadn’t.He’d simply looked at her, calmly taken a sip of his drink, and said, “First come, first serve.”She’d hated him for it.During competitions, it was worse. If there was a single slot left, he took it. If there was one chance to present first, he claimed it. If there was one

The following morning, Mirena drove to Crest.The building loomed ahead of her, glass and steel reflecting the pale morning light like a sharpened blade pointed at the sky. She parked smoothly, stepped out of her car, and adjusted the cuff of her sleeve before heading inside.The moment she walked in, she noticed how the lobby was fuller than usual—noisy and alive in a way it normally wasn’t at this hour. Conversations filled the air and people lingered instead of rushing straight to the elevators.Heads turned almost immediately as she walked by and Mirena, noticing this, slowed her steps just a fraction.People were staring.Not the dismissive glances she’d gotten before. Not the curious, measuring looks. These were wide-eyed, whispered-about stares—charged with interest, awe, and barely concealed excitement.“Is that her?” someone whispered.The girl beside her leaned in, eyes sparkling. “I heard she’s being appointed today.”Another voice chimed in, hushed but thrilled. “That’s he

The dinner ended shortly after, and Mirena stepped out onto the balcony.The evening air was cool, brushing against her skin as she leaned against the railing, pulled out a lollipop, unwrapped it, and slipped it into her mouth.She’d always wanted to smoke, once upon a time. Unfortunately, her second year in college had taught her she was allergic to smoke. Ever since then, lollipops had become her substitute—sweet, harmless, and far less self-destructive.The door behind her opened.She glanced over her shoulder and saw Logan stepping out. He closed the door quietly behind him and stopped a short distance away, his posture hesitant, as though silently asking permission to come closer.“Had enough of them yet?” Mirena asked, the lollipop stick shifting slightly between her lips.She was referring to Ada and Eleanor, who had decided—very enthusiastically—to stroll down memory lane and relive moments Mirena would have preferred stayed buried.Logan chuckled softly and finally moved forw

Mirena was genuinely shocked by the sight before her.In all the years she’d known Alexander, he wasn’t one to fall sick. Not once. He powered through everything—injuries, exhaustion, sleepless nights—like his body simply refused to betray him.Yet here he was, standing in front of her with damp hair clinging to his forehead, sweat beading at his temples, his expression tight with discomfort and his face flushed an alarming shade of red.“Are you… are you actually sick?” She asked, disbelief slipping plainly into her voice.Alexander met her gaze, but something was wrong.His eyes were dim—lacking the sharpness, the calculating bite that always lived there. The presence she’d grown used to felt dulled, muted, like a blade wrapped in cloth.He opened his mouth to answer, and then his body tilted forward.“Shit!”Mirena didn’t think, she moved immediately.Her arms came up instinctively, catching him just before he could collapse. The impact nearly knocked the breath from her lungs as h