Semua Bab A Mafia’s Trillionaire for Christmas : Bab 41 - Bab 50

OUT OF CONTROL. ~LAUREN’S POV~ ‘I can't believe that I actually slapped Patrick.’ I muttered under my breath. ‘And now, the news of the slap was everywhere.’ My phone buzzed incessantly in my bag, but I didn't bother to check it out. It was obviously the office group chat, lighting up with notifications. I didn’t need to look to know what they were saying. I could imagine it—memes, jokes, a play-by-play of my humiliation. The same colleagues who’d whispered behind my back were now finding fresh fodder in my anger. I stepped into the cafe down the street. The reporters who’d caught wind of Alexandro’s name being dragged into office gossip were outside with their cameras ready. I slipped through the side entrance, desperate for a moment to breathe. I placed an order for a cup of caramel latte, and when it arrived I took a few sips before setting it down. I should have just ignored Patrick. I should have let him drown in his own drama instead of giving him the satisfaction of a re

~A Game I Never Agreed to Play~~LAUREN’S POV~Alexandro held up his hands in surrender. The universal sign of ‘please don’t murder me.’"Alright, alright. That was a bad joke," he admitted, his voice softer now. "I just got back, okay?" I narrowed my eyes at him, searching for any hint of mischief. But for once, he looked... sincere. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, forearms were dusted with just enough dark hair to make him look like the kind of man who knew how to fix a car but would pay someone else to do it. He didn’t look like the trillionaire I had Googled. He looked normal. "Really?" He nodded, stepping back. "Get dressed and meet me at the beachside lounge. We need to talk." "Talk?""Yes. Unless you’d rather I join you in the towel-clad fashion show you’ve got going on." My mouth fell open. A sound—somewhere between a gasp and a growl—clawed its way out of my throat. His lips twitched, and then he chuckled, stepping out and pulling the door shut behi

UNMASKING ALEXANDRO ~LAUREN’S POV~A FEW HOURS BEFORE THE BALL:A few minutes after Alexandro disappeared with that mystery man, I stormed into the house, still burning from the way he spoke to me. Like he was in charge. Like he had control. Like I was just some game piece he could move around at will. I stomped down the hall, ready to slam my bedroom door shut and pretend none of this was happening. But just as my fingers curled around the doorknob, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I sighed, pulling it out without much interest. It was a message from Rosette in the office group chat: “Patrick and I are officially inviting everyone to our engagement party! Can’t wait to celebrate with you all! ”I scoffed. Seriously? Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I shook my head. I did not care about Patrick and Rosette. Not anymore. But they just had to make sure everyone was watching. It was pathetic. For fuck’s sake, they were already engaged. Why the grand announcement? Why

JEALOUSY ~PATRICK’S POV~A GLIMPSE IN PATRICK POV: The night carried on with laughter, music, and celebration, but I barely noticed any of it.I was seated at the high table, next to Rosette, forced to smile as we danced, as we accepted gifts, as people congratulated us. But none of it mattered.Because across the hall, wrapped in the arms of Alexandro fucking Castello, was Lauren.My fingers curled into a tight fist, the glass of whiskey in my hand trembling slightly.I never expected Lauren to move on. And not with a man like him.Lauren had always been predictable, soft, foolishly in love, a woman who would wait forever. That’s who she was. That’s who she had always been with me.Yet now, she was standing beside Castello, laughing.Smiling.Looking… untouched by our past.That realization clawed at my insides, turning the alcohol in my stomach into something bitter.She should have been miserable. Crying. She should have been broken, unable to even look at another man.Instead, s

TOO LATE FOR WHAT?~LAUREN'S POV~Sleep wasn't an option. It hadn't been for hours. I lay there in the dark, still as a corpse, staring at the ceiling with my heart beating out a frantic rhythm in my chest. The photographs were burned behind my eyelids. Every time I blinked, they were there. Patrick's hands on me. His face was too close. The twisted narrative of it all. The lies threaded so neatly between each image, so carefully crafted it made me sick. Someone was watching. Someone who wanted me afraid. And I was. But not frozen. Not helpless. I was angry. Anger was something I understood how to use. I pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, grabbing the robe I'd tossed over the chair hours ago. My skin prickled with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. I was brittle, too sharp, and stretched thin. No matter how many explanations I tried to piece together, everything led to the same dead end. Alexandro. It was always him. Maybe thi