CHAPTER 51 — THE CONFRONTATIONThe Arizona estate was too quiet for the kind of storm that was about to hit it.The gates had barely finished opening when Patrick’s car shot through the driveway like a black bullet. He didn’t even wait for the driver to park properly — he swung open the door, slammed it shut, and started walking fast. His steps were hard, sharp, and loud enough to echo through the marble porch.The guard at the door barely had time to stammer a greeting before Patrick pushed past him. He didn’t need an invitation. Not today.Mr. Arizona was in his study, a mug of half-cold coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other, when the door burst open.“Patrick?” He blinked, startled. “What on earth—”Patrick didn’t answer. He stood there in the doorway, chest heaving, jaw locked tight. His tie hung loose, his hair slightly disheveled — but the look in his eyes was lethal.“What happened?” Mr. Arizona asked again, setting the cup down carefully.Patrick’s voice came o

CHAPTER 53 – THE REJECTION“Then marry me.”The words cut through the room like glass.Silence followed — not the peaceful kind, but the sharp, choking kind that made the air taste heavy. Patrick’s brows twitched. His grip on his coat loosened slightly, like he hadn’t just heard what she said, or maybe he was hoping he didn’t.Patrick blinked, certain he’d misheard. “What?”She smiled — that same calm, maddening smile. “You heard me. Marry me.” Mrs. Arizona gasped first. “Lola!”Her father shot up from his chair, voice trembling with anger. “Have you completely lost your mind?”But Lola didn’t flinch. Her gaze was locked on Patrick — steady, daring, unashamed. She looked like a storm dressed in velvet, her confidence almost reckless.Patrick blinked once, slowly. “You can’t be serious.”“Oh, but I am,” she said, her lips curving into a soft, dangerous smile. “Dead serious.”Her mother’s hand clutched her chest. “This isn’t funny, Lola. You can’t—”“Why not?” she interrupted. “Joyce i

CHAPTER 55 — LET THE WHOLE WORLD HEARI stood there now, staring at the girl in the mirror — the one who tried to convince herself she was over it. My throat tightened as I whispered, “He was supposed to see me tonight.”I gritted my teeth and kicked off my heels, sending one flying under the bed. “He thinks he can walk away and I’ll just—what? Sit here and cry? Not a chance.”But my voice shook. The lie trembled.Because truth was — I’d already been crying long before he walked out tonight. I’d been crying the day he stopped fighting for us.A knock came on my door, soft at first, then firmer.“Lola,” my mother’s voice called. “Can we come in?”“No,” I snapped too quickly.“Please, sweetheart.”“I said no!” I shouted. The silence that followed told me they’d backed off, at least for now.I pressed my forehead against the mirror and whispered, “He was mine first.”The words broke something in me.He was mine when Joyce didn’t care about him. When he was still that reckless, brilliant