Todos os capítulos de Red Carpet Revenge: Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

"Here."The voice drifted from the living room. Hoarse, hollow, barely human. Lucas followed it through the silent house, his footsteps echoing against walls that seemed to hold their breath.He found her on the floor, slumped against the couch, her legs splayed beneath her like a marionette with severed strings.Her makeup had surrendered to gravity and grief, black rivulets carving paths down her cheeks, mascara pooling in the shadowed hollows beneath her eyes. She clutched the tablet to her chest like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood, her shoulders convulsing with silent sobs."You didn't leave," he said, and immediately wished he could swallow the words back. The relief in his voice was embarrassingly naked, a vulnerability he hadn't meant to expose.Charity didn't look up. Her finger traced the tablet's screen with trembling reverence, scrolling through photographs of Baron as a newborn; tiny, wrinkled, swaddled in a blue blanket while she held him against her heart."I did

Warning: 18+ content***"Mrs. Collins?" Charity's voice was a master class in feigned innocence."I knew you were a bad idea!" Violet stormed toward the trailer, her heels clicking against the pavement like heavy gunshots. "What are you two doing?! Are you cheating on me?!"Her screams drew the crew like moths to flame, gathering in curious clusters to watch the spectacle unfold."Excuse me, that's an unprofessional accusation, Mrs. Collins." Charity rose from her seat, smoothing her skirt with deliberate calm, but Samuel stepped out of the trailer before she could continue."Vi, you're being paranoid. Be quiet." His voice was low, but the command was unmistakable."No, I won't be quiet! I'm not stupid!" Violet shoved past him, reaching for Charity with a raised hand. "You whore!""Vi!"Samuel moved faster than anyone expected, intercepting the slap meant for Charity. The crack of his palm against his own cheek echoed across the set like a whip.Charity watched from behind him, her e

Warning: 18+ content***"I should have stripped you naked," Lucas growled, his voice a husky, sensual rasp that scraped against Charity's nerves in the best possible way. "I should have seen every inch of you shaking on top of me, begging for this."Charity gasped, the sheer filth of his thoughts sending a fresh surge of heat between her thighs. She tangled her fingers into his thick, dark hair and yanked him closer, her breath coming in shallow, desperate hitches.The leather of the seat groaned under their combined weight, the sound blending with the rhythmic, wet slapping of skin against skin.The friction reached a breaking point. Lucas’ pace shifted from a deliberate grind to a hurried, wild assault. He became an unstoppable force, his hips slamming into her with a raw, primal power that rocked the entire vehicle.He no longer sought finesse; he was chasing a release that felt like a cliff edge, and he was diving headfirst into the abyss.Charity felt her own peak approaching. I

Charity sat perched on the edge of the bed, her gaze anchored to the blue cotton duvet. It was a wide, imposing expanse of fabric, far too vast for the small frame of an eight-year-old boy.The covers were rumpled, cluttered with a scattering of plastic figurines and a lone, crisp tablet, looking exactly as they had the day Baron vanished from this room, snatched away by the grasping reach of the Redwood Family.A cold shard of hatred lodged itself in Charity’s chest, vibrating with every breath. She stared at the remnants of a life interrupted, her eyes narrowing as she thought of Samuel.The betrayal didn't just sting; it burned like acid, a slow-acting poison that had seeped into every corner of her soul. And then there was Violet, the mistress, the interloper, the woman who now wore the title of wife like a stolen trophy.If it weren't for their calculated greed and stomach-churning infidelity, Baron would be here. He would be laughing, spilling juice on that blue duvet, and growi

Desmond’s knuckles whitened against the leather grip of his steering wheel, his chest heaving with a mixture of anxiety and stubborn resolve.He kept his distance, hovering three car lengths behind the sleek, obsidian silhouette of the Klassen. The city blurred into a smear of gray concrete and flickering neon as they exited the studio district, the late afternoon sun casting long, uneven shadows across the asphalt.The Klassen drove like a predatory shark cutting through a school of lesser fish, fast, precise, and experienced in the road.Desmond watched the black taillights weave through the thickening traffic with a grace that felt intentional, almost mocking. He shifted gears, the engine of his own sedan roaring in a desperate attempt to keep pace."Where are you going, Vivianne?" he whispered, his voice cracking. The road began to narrow, transitioning from the wide boulevards of the city center to the winding, claustrophobic arteries of the industrial outskirts. Here, the air g