All Chapters of TRAPPED WITH MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND: Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

…me a knowing look. “Doesn’t matter. It’s about perception.”I sank into the chair across from him, exhaling sharply. “So, what’s our move?”He smiled.That slow, dangerous smile that always meant trouble.A Week LaterCynthia was gone. Her empire, shattered. Her name, tarnished.But the world didn’t pause for my victory. The moment she fell, new threats emerged—rival companies trying to swoop in, investors questioning my leadership, and whispers in the dark from people who had once feared Cynthia but now saw an opening to take me down.And then there was Thiago.Always watching. Always waiting.It was late when he finally cornered me in my office, his presence stealing the air from the room.“You’ve been avoiding me, Wifey.” His voice was smooth, but there was something sharp underneath it.I didn’t look up from the contract I was reviewing. “I’ve been busy.”Thiago chuckled, low and knowing. “Bullshit. You’re running, and we both know why.”I exhaled slowly, finally meeting his gaze

The world still saw me as Bridgette Martinez, the woman who clawed her way to the top, but behind closed doors, I was fighting battles that no one could see.Thiago's encroachment wasn’t just financial. It was personal. Everywhere I turned, he was there—at high-profile investor meetings, in the whispers of board members questioning my next move, in the shadow of every deal I tried to secure.And worst of all?He was still in my head.I sat at the head of the table, my expression unreadable as Lucia and Victor debriefed me on the latest developments.Lucia tossed a report onto the table. "Thiago's now the second-largest shareholder in Martinez Holdings."Victor leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "At this rate, it won’t be long before he’s in a position to demand a seat on the board."A chill crawled up my spine. I had spent years making sure no one—not my father, not Cynthia, not any man—could take my power away. And yet, Thiago was tightening his grip without ever raising

The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. My father’s fingers tapped against the rim of his whiskey glass, his mind working through the implications of what I’d just said. He was a master manipulator, but this time? He had backed himself into a corner.“You don’t have proof,” he said finally, but there was something uncertain in his voice.I leaned against his desk, forcing a smirk. “Oh, but I do.”Lucia’s voice crackled in my earpiece. “We have everything, Bridgette. His authorizations, timestamps, and even the IP addresses he used. All trace back to him.”I didn’t break eye contact. “I have enough to bury you in court. Fraud. Embezzlement. You’d be finished.”His jaw clenched, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crossed his face.Thiago, standing just behind me, chuckled lowly. “She’s not bluffing, Martinez.”I felt the heat of his presence at my back—solid, unwavering. And I hated that some part of me found comfort in it.My father exhaled slowly, setting his

Thiago’s words lingered long after he pulled away, their weight settling like lead in my chest.You should have let me handle it.I clenched my fists, refusing to let his voice take root in my head. I had spent years fighting my battles alone, carving my own path despite my father’s suffocating grip. And now, for the first time, I had won. I had backed him into a corner, forced him to sign away what he had stolen.So why didn’t it feel like a victory?I forced a deep breath, turning away from Thiago. “I need a shower.”“Of course you do.” His voice was smooth, calculated. He leaned against the suite’s bar, watching me with an unreadable expression. “You always run when you don’t want to deal with something.”I froze mid-step but didn’t turn around. “I’m not running.”“No?” I heard the ice clink in his glass as he poured himself a drink. “Then look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel it.”Feel what? The suffocating tension? The invisible noose tightening around my throat? The way

The jet cut through the night sky, its engines humming beneath us like a beast biding its time. I sat stiffly in my seat, staring out the window at the endless black void below. The reality of what was happening still hadn’t fully settled.My mother was alive.And she was in Spain.I turned my head, watching Thiago from the corner of my eye. He had leaned back, fingers tapping against his glass in slow, measured beats. His eyes were on me, as if he was waiting for me to break the silence.I refused to give him that satisfaction.Instead, I asked the one question that had been burning in my mind since we took off.“How long have you known?”Thiago’s tapping stopped. He didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. “A few weeks.”A sharp breath left my lips. “A few weeks?” I repeated, my voice cold. “You let me believe she was dead for weeks?”“I didn’t let you believe anything,” he corrected. “I was gathering proof. If I had told you too soon, you would have gone straight to your father and gotten