All Chapters of Revenge on the Billionaire Triplets: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

ALESSI POV I'm dead tired. The kind of tired that you feel to the bone and my feet drag as I head to my apartment close to the hospital where I'm working as an intern. I'm a smart guy, or at least that's what I've been told my entire life, but medical school is kicking my ass. I'm honestly questioning why I didn't just go into business, I could've been working for my family right now, trying to figure out how to infiltrate another market. Instead, I chose to be a slave, and I haven't seen my brothers in person in over a month. Maybe that's why I'm feeling so drained because when they're around, I feel invincible, like I can finally figure out cancer. I sense something is different as soon as I unlock my door. The smell of a delicious steak wafts through the air, and my stomach growls. All I had time to eat today was a bowl of oatmeal that tasted like cardboard. Slow jazz music is playing on the surround sound speakers, and I try to tame my irritation down.

AMELIA POV C.J. shakes me in excitement. "You didn't tell me Arcangelo will be performing too! This concert is lit!" I'm numb. This can't be happening. I've been running away from the Morettis for four years, and then out of the blue one shows up on my doorstep. And he's singing my song. The song he wrote for me, that he gave to me in his effort to say goodbye. From time to time, I give myself the guilty pleasure to look them up. I've heard Arcangelo on the radio, and of course, he blew up as soon as he released a song. He's that good, so his fame was inevitable. When C.J. came to visit me, I bought us concert tickets on a whim because he liked the band playing. Never in a million years would I have thought Arcangelo would be here, too. And he's looking right at me with those hazel eyes, too far for me to extinguish if they're more green or brown right now. C.J. stills and look down at me in concern. "Oh shit." Yeah, it probably hit him right now.

ALONSO POV I'm hungry and irritated when I make my way to Arc's place. I still can't believe we're actually not staying together, but everyone is staying close to their respective jobs, so I have to take it, but it doesn't mean that I have to like it. I feel like a part of myself is missing every single day when I'm not with them. I let myself in, and I'm surprised to see T.J. there. T.J. has become the head of our family's security, and his father has retired to Thailand, living his best island life. He deserves it, too. "What's up?" I walk over to him and hug him briefly. "Is there some security issue we should know about?" Arc said it was urgent. "Let's wait for what Arc has to say." He taps me on the back. "He's in the shower. He said there's some food in the oven." And that is why we should be together. We know each other like the back of our hands, we are interwoven together. A nice steak and grilled vegetables await me, and I get a bottle of water from t

ALONSO POV I can't sleep. I'm struggling to eat, too. My mind is filled with thoughts of Juliet. My body, however, can't take it. I can feel my energy dwindling when I'm working out with my conditioning coach, who is shouting at me to get my head on straight. It's pre-season, and I'm starting on a new team that has just transitioned into new ownership and new management. Nepotism is raining in the media headlines because my family corporation bought the team, and I'm now the franchise quarterback. I guess what ever I fucking do on the field doesn't matter to them. Some even state that I bought the damn Heisman trophy like I didn't win the whole fucking state championship that year. People think having money is the greatest thing on earth, but they don't consider the burden. We've been raised to be hard working our whole lives, but now we have to work even harder to prove that we deserve everything we worked for. "You're really shit today." Dan, my conditioning coach s

ALONSO POV A game is not just a game on game day. No, the game starts long before your cleats touch the grass. You practice with your team for hours, you run drills, you have to learn the playbook and know it better than anything you've ever studied. You work out by yourself to be in the best physical condition possible. So when you step out on that football field on a Sunday night, the actual game is the result of years, months, days, minutes, and seconds worth of blood and tears. And that is exactly why my brothers don't know that I'm in Washington D.C. getting ready for a charity ball, wearing a designer tuxedo that was made specifically for me. If the Astors are truly Juliet's parents, I have to woo them first and maybe throw in a lot of money for their mission children's charity. That is another clue that our suspicions are correct regarding Juliet's true heritage. The Astors have a big charity that actually helps families around the country when their children go m