\u00a0<\/p>\n
Chapter 18\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cGod, they\u2019re both unreal.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd her too, she looks like trouble.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Cameras flashed and I kept my chin up and my smile slow. I walked like I owned the damn place. The dress hugged me tight, every step deliberate, and the envy in the air brushed my skin like fingers.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Then I saw his grandfather.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The host of the night. Old money. Old blood. The kind of man who didn\u2019t need to raise his voice to end lives.\u00a0<\/p>\n
He froze when he saw us, his sharp eyes locking straight on me. His cane stilled, grip\u00a0<\/p>\n
tightening.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWell I\u2019ll be damned,\u201d he said, voice rough with surprise and something softer underneath. \u201cYou actually showed up, boy. I thought you\u2019d avoid your own family circus again. And this,\u201d his gaze swept me head to toe without shame, \u201cthis is not who I was expecting.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Colt\u2019s jaw tightened. \u201cCareful, Grandpa.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
The old man laughed, deep and dangerous. \u201cRelax. I\u2019m appreciating. What\u2019s your name, sweetheart?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I met his eyes, calm and unblinking. \u201cNadia Joseph.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
He hummed like he was tasting it. \u201cPretty name. And you belong to which mess exactly?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Before Colt could speak, Ax leaned in with that lazy grin of his. \u201cShe\u2019s with us tonight. Very with us.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Colt shot him a look that promised violence later, but he didn\u2019t correct him.\u00a0<\/p>\n
His grandfather smiled wider. \u201cGood. About time you brought someone interesting. The room\u2019s been dead all night.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
From the corner of my eye, I saw Roxanne.\u00a0<\/p>\n
She stood near the champagne tower, stiff as glass. Her face drained when she saw me. For half a second her mouth dropped open like she\u2019d seen a ghost.\u00a0<\/p>\n
David was beside her.\u00a0<\/p>\n
His eyes found me and didn\u2019t let go. They dragged over my face, my hair, my body like\u00a0<\/p>\n
1\/4 69.0%\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
80\u00a0<\/p>\n
he was trying to remember a dream he\u2019d ruined. Too slow. Too familiar.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Roxanne grabbed his arm hard and hissed something in his ear. He blinked and looked away, but I already had his attention burned into my skin.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Good.\u00a0<\/p>\n
People swarmed fast after that.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cSo where are you from, Nadia?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not in politics, are you?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you with Ax or with Mr. Blackwood?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Ax answered half of it, voice smooth and mocking. \u201cShe\u2019s from wherever she wants. And no, you can\u2019t Google her. And yes, you should stop asking stupid questions.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I laughed softly and sipped my champagne.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Colt stayed close. Quiet. Watching. His hand brushed mine once and it wasn\u2019t an accident. Grounding. Possessive. Like he was reminding the room I wasn\u2019t prey.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Then she walked over.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Red silk dress. Red lips. The kind of woman who thought power meant volume.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cSo this is Nadia,\u201d she said, smiling thin. \u201cInteresting. I always thought Colt preferred women with a little more polish. A little more class.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
The women around her tittered, waiting for blood.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I tilted my head and smiled sweetly. \u201cThat\u2019s funny. I didn\u2019t realize his taste needed your approval. Or your imagination.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Silence hit hard.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I took another sip like nothing happened.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Ax turned away fast, coughing into his glass to hide his laugh. Colt\u2019s mouth curved just slightly and that was enough.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Her smile cracked. Her eyes burned. I turned my back on her anyway.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Let her choke on it.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The cameras kept flashing, whispers followed me like shadows, and as I walked deeper into the night, I felt it clearly.\u00a0<\/p>\n
The night dragged on and the air inside the mafia gala started pressing on me like hands. Too many eyes. Too many fake smiles. I needed space before I broke something or someone. I slipped out through the side doors, hmthe cool night air hitting my lungs and slowing my pulse.\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
I was halfway down the terrace when I heard his voice.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI swear to God, I think I knew you,\u201d David said. \u201cI don\u2019t remember much anymore. I had a bad car accident last year, messed my head up pretty good. But when I look at you, my chest feels like it\u2019s tearing itself apart. It hurts so bad I can\u2019t breathe right. I don\u2019t know why.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I turned slowly, face calm, spine straight, every emotion locked behind my eyes. \u201cYou\u2019re wrong,\u201d I said. \u201cYou don\u2019t know me. You\u2019re reaching for something that isn\u2019t\u00a0<\/p>\n
there.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
He took a step closer, eyes red, frantic, like he was drowning on dry land. \u201cNo, don\u2019t do that. Don\u2019t lie to me like that. The way you look at me, like you already buried me once. That\u2019s not nothing. Please. Just tell me the truth. Tell me who I am to you.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I shook my head, voice steady, almost bored. \u201cYou should stop digging. Whatever you think you lost, it\u2019s not something you can get back. Let it go before it eats you alive.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
His hands curled into fists. \u201cI can\u2019t. I try, I really do. But every time you walk away it feels like I\u2019m losing you all over again. Just tell me your real name. I don\u2019t need anything else. Just that. Please.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I looked straight through him, letting the silence cut deeper than any answer I could give. His breathing turned uneven. That was when I knew I still had power over him.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Then a laugh cut through the night.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Too bright. Too fake.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Roxanne slid in beside him, her arm wrapping tight around his like she owned him. Her smile was wide but her eyes were sharp, watching me like a threat. \u201cDavid, seriously, you\u2019ve had too much to drink! I\u2019m so sorry about this. He gets emotional when he drinks. Always thinking he\u2019s remembering things.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Her nails dug into his arm as she pulled him back.\u00a0<\/p>\n
I tilted my head and smiled slow. \u201cWhy so nervous, Roxanne? Afraid he remembers\u00a0<\/p>\n
me?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
She froze.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Just for a second. But I saw it. The crack. The fear slipping through before she patched it up.\u00a0<\/p>\n
She forced a laugh. \u201cDon\u2019t flatter yourself.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t bother replying. I turned and walked back toward the doors, heels steady, back straight, heart ice cold.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Behind me, the night swallowed my steps.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Then I heard it. My name.\u00a0<\/p>\n
11:10 Wed, Jan 28\u00a0<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t turn around.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Some ghosts don\u2019t deserve answers.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Prepare the divorce and ruin your husband by Mark Twain 18 \u00a0 Chapter 18\u00a0 \u201cGod, they\u2019re both unreal.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cAnd her […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[60],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-23549","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-his-regret-my-victory-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23549","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=23549"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/23549\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=23549"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=23549"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=23549"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}