جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 20

CHAPTER 11:The transition from the quiet sanctuary of Zeke’s penthouse to the glaring spotlights of TVN Studio 7 was jarring. For two days, Xielle had been cocooned in Zeke’s world—he had played the role of a devoted provider, cooking for her, ensuring she was pampered, and watching over her with a quiet intensity that felt more like a promise than a contract. He treated her like the center of his universe, but eventually, the "Nation’s Sweetheart" had to return to her throne. TVN Studio 7: The Grand Press ConferenceThe stage was a sea of flashing lights. Xielle stood under the spotlight, her new mahogany hair catching the glare of a dozen cameras. She looked radiant—stronger and more sophisticated than the public had ever seen her. Beside her, Jake, her leading man, played his part perfectly, flashing a signature dimpled smile."And now for our leading lady," the host announced. "Xielle, the tension between you and Jake is undeniable! Tell us, is it hard to pull off that level o

CHAPTER 13: THE SET UP DATE.The morning light in Zeke’s penthouse was unforgiving. It cut through the sheer, floor-to-ceiling curtains in sharp, blinding blades, hitting the silk sheets with a clinical brightness that made Xielle’s brain throb in rhythm with her heartbeat.Xielle groaned, burying her face into a pillow that smelled of cedarwood and cold discipline. Her head felt like it was being hammered from the inside out—the premium tequila she’d downed at the celebration was finally demanding its payment. Memories of the previous night flashed in her mind like a broken film reel: the neon blue lights of the lounge, Arthur’s annoyed face, and then… Zeke.Zeke, whose jealousy had been anything but professional.She rolled over, her body aching in places that reminded her exactly how "punishing" he could be when he felt his territory was being threatened. The space beside her was empty, but the sheets were still warm, the lingering scent of his cologne acting as a silent anchor to r

CHAPTER 15:The orchestra inside the grand ballroom transitioned into a slow waltz, its heavy strings drifting down the hall like a mocking echo of the dinner she had just survived. Xielle walked with rigid grace, her emerald silk gown whispering against the marble floor. Every step was a calculated effort to look untouched by the psychological warfare at the table. She desperately needed space to wash the suffocating taste of that dinner out of her mouth.​The corridor leading to the executive lounges was dimly lit, designed for quiet corporate deals and quick escapes. Stopping before an ornate mirror, Xielle took a steadying breath. She looked flawless—the perfect image of independence. But beneath the silk, her skin was burning, her heart hammering an erratic rhythm triggered entirely by the man who had sat directly across from her.​She turned away, intending to head for the terrace, but her path was abruptly cut off.​"What the hell!" Xielle gasped, staggering back as the cold, s

CHAPTER 17;The following morning, Xielle was huddled in a ball on her plush sofa, staring blankly at the premium organic fruit basket Mrs. Zhao had sent, when the heavy, rhythmic thud of the front door’s deadbolt echoing through the hallway made her skin crawl. She didn't even need to look at the security monitor; she knew that unyielding, heavy stride anywhere.​Zeke walked into the living room, looking far too immaculate and composed in a charcoal-grey tailored suit, though the subtle dark circles under his eyes perfectly matched hers. He was carrying a leather folder and a branded paper bag from a high-end apothecary. The moment his dark gaze landed on her, that familiar, suffocatingly possessive air immediately filled every corner of the apartment.​"I spoke directly to your attending physician at Zhao Memorial," Zeke said without a single word of greeting, his voice a low, smooth baritone that vibrated with uninvited authority. "He noted that your iron levels are still fluctuatin

CHAPTER 19The morning sun was brutally bright, cutting straight through the penthouse windows, but the mood inside was completely dead. Xielle was curled up on the edge of her velvet couch, looking like she hadn’t slept a single hour.​Arthur, being his usual over-the-top self, had already laid out a massive spread on the kitchen island—crisp longsilog, fresh mangoes, and a pot of black coffee.​"You look like a literal ghost, Xielle," Arthur said, dropping the theatrical act for a second. "Seriously, you're so pale."​"I don't know, Art. I just don't have an appetite," she muttered, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. But the second she did, all she could see was the desperate, bloodshot look in Zeke’s eyes from their fight last night.​"You have to eat something. You need to stay healthy..." Arthur’s voice trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward her stomach. "...you know."​Xielle looked down at the garlic rice, her chest tightening. She knew exactly what it felt like to grow