Chapter 141 Laura sat in the interrogation room with crossed arms, her breathing uneven despite her attempt to look calm. The fluorescent lights were harsh, revealing every nervous twitch, every flicker of fear in her eyes. Two detectives sat opposite her, files spread neatly on the metal table — evidence, reports, statements — forming a cage she couldn’t escape from.“I’ve said it already,” Laura snapped, forcing confidence into her shaking voice. “I didn’t send anyone to that engagement party. I wasn’t even in the state when it happened.”Detective Harris leaned back, unimpressed.“That’s interesting, Miss Bennett… because the man you hired confessed.”Laura’s heart dropped, but she lifted her chin stubbornly.“He’s lying. Someone probably bribed him to say that. I don’t know him.”Detective Lana slid a thick folder toward her.“Then explain these.”Inside were printed message logs, bank transactions, audio fragments, and timestamps.Laura blinked hard, trying to steady her voice.

The Konstanio penthouse sat forty floors above the city—an entire level carved into luxury, glass walls stretching from floor to ceiling, giving a floating view of the skyline. At night, the city glittered beneath it like a bed of stars, but by day, it was a mirror of silver buildings, rushing streets, and sunlight spilling in from every direction.That was where Andrea was taking Gracie.And she was nervous.Not the kind of nervous that made your heart flutter in a romantic way—but the kind that lodged in your chest like a stone. The kind that reminded you she was walking into the home of the people who hadn’t believed her. The people who had judged her without giving her a chance to speak.The people she was going to become family with.If things went well.If things healed.She stood in front of her mirror earlier that day, staring at her reflection as she adjusted her earrings for the third time. Her dress—an elegant cream-colored gown Andrea had gifted her—fitted her curves beaut

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in warm shades of rose-gold when Gracie stepped out of the car with Andrea. The Konstanio family yacht—The Aurelia—floated gracefully on still water, its deck decorated with lanterns, cream roses, and soft golden lights strung along the railings.Everything looked like a dream.So perfect that Gracie’s breath caught.Andrea noticed and squeezed her hand gently.“Ready?” he asked.“More than ready,” she whispered.This time, there was no fear behind her voice.No scandal hanging over her.No shame.Just peace.Just love.Just Andrea.THE FAMILY WAITSAt the entrance to the yacht, Mr. and Mrs. Konstanio stood waiting, dressed elegantly. Mrs. Konstanio looked softer than Gracie had ever seen, the guilt from her previous judgment still lingering in her eyes.“You look beautiful, Gracie,” she said warmly.“Thank you, Ma’am.”Mr. Konstanio stepped closer. “You are family now. Call us by our names when you’re ready.”Gracie’s heart softened.Ins

The air inside the holding facility was heavy—damp, cold, smelling faintly of disinfectant and stale fear. People always said jail had a “feeling” to it. They were right. The moment Nikolai stepped through the metal doors, even he felt the atmosphere settle onto his skin like dust.But unlike the others who sat trembling behind bars, Nikolai wasn’t afraid.He moved with slow, controlled confidence…the terrifying kind that radiated from a man who feared nothing—not consequences, not judgment, not God.And certainly not Andrea Konstantino.His footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway as the guard led him toward the last holding cell.“She’s been… unsettled,” the guard whispered. “Keeps asking for a lawyer who won’t come, for bail she can’t afford.”Nikolai smirked without humor.“Well, that’s what happens when you gamble with a future you never had.”The guard swallowed hard, silently grateful when they reached the end.“There,” he said, stepping aside.Laura was curled up on the metal

Chapter 152Nikolai did not rush.That was his greatest weapon.While most men lashed out in anger, Nikolai preferred patience—the kind that let hatred ferment until it became something precise. Something lethal.By noon, the first ripple appeared.Andrea was in a strategy meeting at Whitewater when his assistant leaned in, her face pale.“Sir… the press just released something.”Andrea didn’t look up immediately. “If it’s another rumor, handle it.”“It’s not a rumor,” she said quietly. “It’s a leak.”That made him look up.She slid the tablet toward him.A financial blog—small but respected—had published an article questioning the timeline of Whitewater’s recent acquisitions, subtly implying insider coordination between Whitewater and the Astor Group.No accusations.No direct claims.Just questions.Andrea’s jaw tightened.This was Nikolai’s style.Clean.Careful.Designed to plant doubt without exposing the source.“Pull our compliance logs,” Andrea said calmly. “Now.”“Yes, sir.”