All Chapters of President's Second Chance At Love : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I stood in front of my wardrobe, my fingers drifting across the rows of clothes. “What am I going to wear?” I muttered, feeling the frustration grow as nothing seemed to fit. I was starting to get irritated with the prospect of picking out something, and my patience was wearing thin. Just as I was about to give up and settle on anything, a loud bang on the door startled me. Before I could even respond, the door swung open, and my stepsister, Han Gregory, barged in uninvited. I turned to face her, my eyes narrowing. “Oh, how may I help you?” I asked, my tone dripping with sarcasm as I crossed my arms, making it clear I wasn’t in the mood for whatever she had to say. Han's smirk was as condescending as ever. “I’m supposed to be asking you that, Ava,” she sneered. “What are you still doing here? You know very well that my fiance, Mr. Richard, and I are getting married soon, and I won’t allow you to stay in this house. You and that little thing you call a son need to pack your bag

As I walked through the hall with Mr. Eddy, the atmosphere was thick with tension. I could feel Richard's gaze on me, hot and intense. When he finally turned to look at me, the deadly glare on his face sent a shiver down my spine. There was no mistaking the jealousy burning in his eyes, and that knowledge only spurred me on. “Mr. Eddy,” I whispered softly as I beckoned on him to bend a little because he was too tall for me to be able to execute my plan. “Please, just play along with me.” He hesitated for a moment, then caught on to what I was asking as he glanced towards where my eyes were looking and with a small, understanding smile, he leaned in closer. I gave him an apologetic smile before brushing my lips against his cheek in a quick, playful peck. I turned to look at Richard and his reaction was immediate—his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and I could almost see the storm brewing within him. Mr. Eddy, ever the gentleman, wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled m

Richard’s lips crashed down on mine with a force that took my breath away. For a moment, I was too stunned to react, my mind reeling from the suddenness of his actions. His kiss was fierce, demanding, and there was a raw intensity in the way his hands gripped my arms, pulling me closer as if he was afraid I might disappear. I should have pushed him away. I should have screamed at him, fought him off. But instead, I found myself caught in the storm of his emotions, swept away by the fire that burned between us. There was a part of me—a traitorous, desperate part—that had longed for this, that had missed the feel of his lips on mine, the way his hands knew every curve of my body. It was as if, in that moment, all the pain, all the betrayal melted away, leaving only the two of us, tangled together in a web of passion and need. His kiss deepened, and I felt his hands move to the clasp of my clutch, fumbling with the delicate fabric. The sound of it falling to the floor barely r

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. I blinked, disoriented for a moment, unsure of where I was. Then it all came rushing back—the night before, the heated arguments, the tears, and finally, the comfort I’d found in Richard’s arms. But now, as I slowly turned to face him, the man who was always so stern and distant, he seemed oddly peaceful in his sleep. His usual frown was gone, replaced by a calm expression that made him look younger, almost vulnerable. For a long time, I just lay there, studying his face. The slight stubble on his jawline, the way his dark lashes rested against his cheeks, and the soft rise and fall of his chest. In sleep, he was an entirely different person—a far cry from the man who often scowled at me or spoke with that cold, detached tone. As I watched him, I felt a strange mix of emotions. There was still that lingering hurt from our previous interactions, but seeing him like this, I couldn’t help but won

I woke up to an empty bed, the cold sheets beside me a stark reminder that Ava was gone. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, but it did nothing to warm the void that had settled in my chest. I rubbed my forehead, the spot where she had kissed—or rather, pecked—me before she left still tingling. A small, bitter smile tugged at my lips. It was the first time in a long while that I had felt her touch, and I hated how much I missed it. Memories of that day flashed through my mind—the day when everything changed. I had been handed a picture of Ava, naked with another man. My heart had shattered, and in my anger, I had thrown her out. I had convinced myself that she had betrayed me, that she had broken the vows we had made to each other. But deep down, even as I watched her walk out the door, I regretted it. My anger had been like a raging fire, consuming every rational thought, every ounce of trust I had ever had in her. It wasn’t until later, after the rage had subsided