บททั้งหมดของ A Taste Of Teresa Cortez: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 5

Teresa’s Pov Mothers are supposed to love you unconditionally, right? Protect you. Sacrifice for you.Mine watches me get fucked by strangers and then locks herself in her room to get off to the memory. Sometimes she watches.Yeah. That kind of mother.Hi. I’m Teresa. I'm twenty-one years old. My real mom died when I was twelve, she died of cancer. Dad remarried less than two years later. He married Caroline. Dr. Caroline goddamn Cortez, a respected psychologist, savior of addicts, one-on-one therapist to the broken and the rich. She smiled at me when she got newly wedded to my dad, held my hand like she gave a shit, and six years later my dad dropped dead of a heart attack in the driveway. Left me everything. And nothing. Because everything now belongs to her.The house. The money. Me.I’m sitting at the dining-room table pretending to scroll on my phone while Caroline laughs too loud at something the guy next to her says. He’s new. They’re always new. Slick hair, cheap cologne, we

Teresa’s Pov If boredom could kill, I would’ve flatlined three hours ago.Another office. Another white room. Another pointless check-up I didn’t ask for. I swear the doctors in this building must think I’m made of glass with how they keep prodding and poking. Meanwhile, Caroline walked beside me like she owned the entire damn hospital, heels clicking, perfume loud enough to choke someone.I hated being here.But I hated the consequences of refusing her even more.Lunch break finally came, and Caroline abandoned me in her office like she always did. I didn’t complain. Silence was better than her voice anyway. I curled into the chair and scrolled through social media, pretending that the entire day didn’t feel like a punishment someone forgot to name.And then, stupidly, my mind drifted back to him.The man from the morning.Dark hair. Grey eyes. Built like sin and carved like he was daring someone to touch him. I’d barely looked at him for five seconds, yet somehow he burned into my

Nolan’s PovMason hasn’t shut up about this job for six straight hours.We’re down in the bunker, concrete walls, no windows, racks of rifles gleaming under LED strips, servers humming like angry bees. Mason hunched over his laptop, fingers flying, mouth running twice as fast.“This is suicide, Nolan. Straight-up insane. Vice president’s son? Secret Service crawling up his ass twenty-four seven? For what…some shadow donor’s election hard-on?”I don’t look up from cleaning the suppressor in my hands. “Six hundred grand, Mason. That’s what.”He snorts. “Yeah, and a closed-casket funeral with the flag folded real pretty. I haven’t even fucked a Vietnamese girl yet. Or an Italian guy. I have plans, man. Plans that don’t include a sniper round to the skull.”Asher kicks his boots up on a crate. “Stop whining. We scope, we hack, we ghost. Same dance, bigger stage.”Mason flips him off without looking. “Easy for you to say. Your brain isn’t ninety percent dick.”“Jealousy is ugly, brother.”