All Chapters of TRAPPED WITH MY DAD'S BESTFRIEND: Chapter 291 - Chapter 300

The rain hadn’t stopped since I left Thiago’s penthouse. Hours blurred into the grayness of the cityscape as I wandered aimlessly through streets I barely remembered walking. I needed air, space, clarity—anything that could drown out the chaos inside me.But no matter how far I walked, I couldn’t outrun what I felt.I ended up at the pier.There was something about the water—violent and serene all at once—that mirrored the storm in my chest. I leaned against the railing, soaked to the bone, hair clinging to my cheeks, and for the first time in days, I let myself feel it all.Everything Thiago and I had built. Everything we had broken. And everything we still were, despite it.The truth was, I loved him. I had loved him since the day he stood in front of me in that impossibly tailored suit, looking at me like I was something he had been searching for and never thought he’d find.And now? Now it felt like we were caught in some endless dance of push and pull. Anger and desire. Trust and

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Thiago’s boat cabin, casting soft golden streaks across our bare skin. His arm was draped lazily over my waist, his breath slow and warm against the back of my neck. For the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up without weight in my chest. Just peace. Just him.I shifted slightly, and his grip tightened, pulling me closer with a sleepy groan.“You’re not sneaking away from me again, are you?” His voice was gravelly from sleep, intimate in a way that sent a ripple down my spine.I smiled. “No. Not anymore.”Thiago pressed a kiss to my shoulder, and the gesture was so tender, so unlike the hard edges of our past, that it made my throat tighten. He pulled me onto my back and hovered over me, his eyes scanning my face as if memorizing every curve, every line etched by tears and time.“I missed you, Damsel,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Every day. Even when I was too proud to admit it.”I cupped his

Angela woke up screaming.It was just after three in the morning. Her voice cracked through the silence like glass breaking, raw and sharp. I bolted upright from the couch, where I’d crashed with a blanket draped over me. Thiago was already standing, alert and focused, as Riley rushed into the room.She was sitting up in bed, soaked in sweat, eyes wide and unfocused, hands trembling.Riley took her hand. “Angela, it’s me. You’re safe.”She looked around like she didn’t recognize us—like the panic was still clinging to her ribs.I stepped forward slowly, hands raised slightly. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”She blinked rapidly, and for a moment, I thought she’d break down again—but then she exhaled, a slow and shaky release, and collapsed back against the pillows.“I saw him,” she whispered. “In the dream. I saw him again.”“Who?” I asked.Her lips moved around the name like it hurt to say. “Dante.”Something passed between Thiago and Riley—recognition.“You said he was gone,” Riley

“Bridgette,” Thiago warned, his voice low and lethal. “Don’t move.”I didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when Dante Santoro held that thing in his hand—something that looked like a weapon disguised as a piece of avant-garde tech.“It’s not what you think,” Dante said, stepping around the shattered sculpture pedestal. “But it is dangerous in the wrong hands.”“You are the wrong hands,” I shot back, even though my throat was dry. “You faked your arrest. You let your men burn half the Santoro estate. You disappeared.”He shrugged. “Because they were coming for me. The same people who came for your father.”Thiago’s jaw flexed. “You mean the same people you worked for?”“Worked,” Dante corrected. “Past tense. I was the middleman until I realized they were ready to cut out the middle entirely.”I was shaking—part rage, part adrenaline. “You’re a liar.”“Maybe.” He met my eyes, and I hated how calm he looked. “But I didn’t lie about you.”Thiago moved in front of me slightly, subtle but firm.“I’m not l

By the time we got back to the city, dusk was bleeding into the skyline. Miami looked deceptively calm from above—the ocean lit up with gold reflections, the breeze humming through the palms like a lullaby for liars.Thiago was quiet beside me, scrolling through the encrypted files we recovered from the vault. Lucia and Marcus were already setting up a secure dropbox, but Thiago had found something else—something personal.Victor Rivas had invited me to a private dinner.At our resort.The same place we launched the Bermudez project.“I’m going,” I said flatly as I read the invitation on my phone.Thiago didn’t even lift his gaze. “You’re not going alone.”“I figured,” I muttered. “But he won’t talk if you show up with guns and fury. He’s expecting me. Not us.”“He’s expecting you to be the scared daughter,” Thiago said, his eyes finally meeting mine. “But you’re not. Not anymore.”Lucia appeared in the doorway, heels off, gun holstered, expression sharp. “I’ll have eyes on the floor.