Lahat ng Kabanata ng Red Carpet Revenge: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

The lights flickered weakly in the cramped cell, casting dancing shadows across the grimy brick walls.Carla sat huddled in the corner, her knees drawn to her chest, trying to escape the cold that seemed to seep into her very bones. The foul stench of mold hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic taste of fear that coated her throat.She had lost track of how many hours...or were it days? She had been trapped in this nightmare."Hey."The sharp voice cut through her thoughts.Carla's head snapped up to see a guard approaching, a ring of jangling keys in his hand. Her heart lurched with desperate hope.Perhaps someone had come to help her.Perhaps this was all a terrible mistake that would finally be corrected.She scrambled to her feet, her weakened legs nearly giving out beneath her. Words of pleading formed on her lips, but they died there when the guard stepped aside to reveal the figure behind him.

Warning: 18+ content***While Violet searched through the night and wove her schemes like a spider spinning silk, Charity had just placed Baron back to bed. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed it was already ten o'clock, the hands seeming to mock her with their steady progress.Usually, she found Lucas home earlier than her. He worked from home now, business meetings conducted via video calls and emails that kept him tethered to the condominium's study. But lately, something has shifted. He left before dawn kissed the windows and returned when the moon hung heavy and high, long after she had surrendered to sleep.As she lay on her bed, the sheets cool against her skin, Charity bit her lip. Her thoughts drifted to Carla, the girl with frightened eyes and trembling hands, trapped in a fate she didn't deserve.She had wanted to talk to Lucas about it, to help free the innocent girl from chains unseen. But he had been too busy,

Warning: 18+ content***"Can you see, Charity?" His voice came low and rough, a growl that vibrated through her chest and settled somewhere deep in her core. One hand rose to cup her jaw with surprising gentleness, tilting her face toward his, while the other guided her trembling palm to wrap around his hard manhood. "It's what you do to me."The heat of him seared her palm. She gulped again, her throat working against the flame of their lust, feeling every pulse, every throb of his heartbeat against her fingers.Her soft grip could barely meet around his hardness, and she felt it jump beneath her touch, alive, hungry, aching for her. Something primal stirred in her core, a wetness spreading between her thighs that she couldn't control."Open wider, hun." His command was filled with authority, and her body obeyed before her mind could catch up.Lucas spread her legs with deliberate slowness, positioning himself between them like

Baron was happily munching on his breakfast, the chocolate cereal crunching loudly between his teeth with the enthusiasm only an eight-year-old escaping tyranny could muster. Lucas had bought him the exact brand he'd been dreaming about ever since arriving in Germany, the one with the little marshmallows shaped like stars. Because of his stepmother, he couldn't even enjoy a single bowl. Violet had deemed such foods "unrefined" and "beneath their station," whatever that meant. But now that he was free of Violet's clutches, his mornings were perfect. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The symphony of sugary defiance filled the kitchen. "Good morning!" Baron called out cheerfully when he spotted Charity and Lucas entering. His brows furrowed immediately. Something was wrong with Miss Vivianne. She walked like a groggy zombie, unsteady, careful, as if her legs might give out at any moment. A deep flush painte

The sedan's engine ticked as it cooled, a soft metallic rhythm in the morning. Violet remained behind the wheel for a long moment, her jaw tight, her fingers drumming against leather that had worn thin in places she'd never bothered to notice. Samuel's side of the bed had been empty again. No note on the nightstand. No text lighting up her phone. Just the hollow impression of his body and the ghost of his cologne clinging to the pillowcase like an accusation. The director needs to be on set early. She'd been telling herself variations of this lie for weeks now. Each repetition should have made it easier to swallow. Instead, the words had curdled, turning bitter on her tongue like medicine left too long in the bottle. He can't wait for you every morning. But he could have woken her. Could have kissed her forehead, whispered goodbye, given her something to hold onto. Once, he had.