CHAPTER 81 – THE WRECKAGE WE MADEHe didn’t kiss her like a husband kissing his wife—he kissed her like a man trying to survive his own heartbreak. It wasn’t soft or tender; it was chaos—lips clashing, teeth grazing, pain spilling into passion. Every second of it screamed you hurt me, but I still need you.Diana froze for a heartbeat, a soft gasp lost against his mouth. Then the shock flickered into something darker—want, sharp and reckless. The hands meant to shove him away twisted into his shirt instead, dragging him closer. Her lips parted, answering his fire with her own, kissing him like she’d just remembered what it felt like to want him—and wasn’t about to forget again.She tasted the same—sweet wine and stubborn lipstick—but everything else felt different. Rougher. Urgent. He kissed her like it was the only language he remembered, guiding her backward with every breathless step. Their mouths stayed locked, a messy, hungry dance through the dim living room and straight into the

CHAPTER 83 – THE MORNING AFTERThe first thing Joyce noticed was the sunlight — warm and lazy, crawling across the silk sheets like it had nowhere better to be.The second was the smell. Coffee. Eggs. Toast.She smiled. He’s cooking.For a full minute, she just lay there, stretching like a cat beneath the covers. Her body ached in the best way — a reminder of everything that happened last night. The way he had said her name. The way his hands had trembled when he touched her. The way he had kissed her like she was air and he’d been drowning all his life.It had been reckless. Stupid. Beautiful.And finally, finally, it felt like something had shifted.Diana turned her head to the side, eyes drifting toward the empty space beside her. The sheets were crumpled, still faintly warm.She smiled again, biting her lower lip. “You’re learning, Kelvin,” she murmured to no one, a little hum in her throat. “Breakfast in bed? About time.”For the first time in months, maybe years, she felt peace.

CHAPTER 86 – BROKEN FIREThe moan of Joyce’s laughter bled through the speakers again — soft, unguarded, painfully familiar — and then something in him snapped.The phone flew from his hand.It hit the marble floor with a sharp crack, skidding under the coffee table. The echo of the impact filled the entire room.Lola didn’t move. She had expected anger — she had wanted anger — but not like this. Patrick’s chest was heaving, his jaw set so tight that the muscle near his temple jumped with every breath.“She did this?” he asked, his voice trembling with a rage that barely sounded human.“Yes,” Lola said carefully. “I told you—”“Don’t.” He held up a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t you dare start with ‘I told you.’”She froze.Patrick ran both hands through his hair, pacing the room like a man trying to hold himself together by force. “That—” he started, then stopped. “That was Joyce. My Joyce.”Lola flinched at the word my. Even now. Even in anger.“She was with him,” he continued, voice

CHAPTER 88— THE DAY FREEDOM LIEDIf betrayal had a heartbeat, Kelvin could still hear it — slow, calm, and wrapped in the scent of Diana’s perfume.He used to believe freedom meant waking up beside the woman he loved, watching the morning light slip across her face, feeling peace settle in his chest like home. But that morning, freedom lied.The alarm went off at 6:15 a.m. sharp. Kelvin was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the half that was empty — her side. The pillow still held a dent where her head used to rest, faintly smelling of lavender and the tears she probably shed before she left.Diana was gone… for more than a week now.And not because he betrayed her — but because she thought he did.A fake video had ruined everything. One that showed him, clear as day, in a hotel room with Joyce — yes, he and Joyce were close… but they didn’t. The clip had spread like wildfire, sent to Diana’s phone that morning. She hadn’t waited for an explanation. She hadn’t

CHAPTER 89 — FACE TO FACEIf the world wanted a show, Kelvin was about to give it one.The car stopped in front of the Grandview Hotel, its glass doors gleaming like polished lies under the noon sun. The place looked expensive — too expensive — the kind of building people built to hide sins behind luxury. He sat there for a long moment, engine still running, the sound of the AC filling the silence. His hands rested on the steering wheel, but his mind… his mind was somewhere else.Diana.She looked happy in that photo. Not the kind of happy that could be faked — no, it was the real thing. The kind that burned. The kind that made a man question if the years he’d spent loving someone meant anything at all.He rubbed his jaw slowly, feeling the tremor in his hand. His phone screen glowed on the passenger seat, that photo still open — her smile, his nightmare. And beside her, Harry, wearing that smug grin that had always looked too slick, too rehearsed.Harry had been his friend once. The