Chapter 44 - 43 Rumours

Chapter 44: Chapter 43 Rumours

The next morning, I walked into the main office building feeling like I had a giant target painted on my back.

Between my daughter trying to set up my love life like a sitcom and my brain still melting over the word daddy, I was already running on two hours of sleep and pure anxiety.

I barely made it past the glass doors before I noticed it.

The whispers.

People pretending to look at their phones. Girls from marketing huddled by the coffee machine, glaring at me like I had just personally stolen their men.

Someone laughed under their breath. Someone else looked at me with open, catty disgust.

What the bloody hell was going on?

Nobody even said good morning.

That was already setting off every alarm bell in my head. I didn’t even see Laziel this morning—he had left the mansion before dawn like a ghost on a mission, leaving me to commute alone.

I slowed down, keeping my chin up. The whispers followed me every single step of the way.

"She really has no shame."

"Sleeping your way to the top really works."

That last one hit me right in the chest. I stopped dead in my tracks and spun around.

The group by the water cooler instantly scattered, everyone suddenly becoming wildly interested in spreadsheets and email threads.

Nobody would meet my eyes. Which somehow felt even worse.

Sleeping my way to the top? Who the hell started that rumor? I was barely surviving, let alone climbing any ladder.

I stepped into the elevator. Three marketing employees were already inside. The moment I crossed the threshold, the air turned so dead and heavy you could slice it with a butter knife.

Conversation evaporated.

One guy coughed awkwardly, staring intently at the floor numbers. A woman stared blankly at her reflection in the doors. Another girl slowly slid her phone out from under her blazer sleeve, her thumb hovering over an open chat.

I didn’t blink. I just stared straight ahead.

When the elevator chimed on my floor, the doors didn’t even fully open before the three of them practically threw themselves out, rushing down the hall like the car was on fire.

Alright. What the actual hell?

I marched toward Laziel’s office. The second I rounded the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Sitting right on top of my immaculate, organized desk were three newspapers. Not neatly folded. Thrown down like trash.

I picked up the top one. Then the second. Then the third.

Different blogs. Different gossip rags. Same toxic garbage.

CEO’S PERSONAL ASSISTANT RECEIVES RAPID PROMOTION.

What promotion? I yelled in my head, glaring at the ink. All these bored, jealous bitches are literally losing their minds over nothing!

I flipped to the next headline.

OFFICE ROMANCE OR FAVORITISM?

And right beneath it was a photo. A blurry, zoomed-in shot taken from down the hall. Laziel’s hand on my waist outside the conference room. Someone had actually staked out the executive floor and played paparazzi.

My blood ran hot. Valentina. This was 100% her dirty work.

.......

The chief of security stood across the desk, looking like a man who had suddenly been asked to solve quantum physics using a box of crayons.

He was holding a leather-bound portfolio containing two days of meticulously researched birthday packages.

"Alright," the chief began, adjusting his tie. "For the entertainment, we have a contracted troupe of professional magicians, a full-scale multimedia light show, and—if we want to maximize media presence—exclusive coverage by Vogue Kids and—"

Laziel didn’t even look up from his tablet. "No."

The chief blinked. "No? Sir, the light show is state-of-the-art—"

"I said no. No photographers. No media. No cameras." Laziel tossed the folder aside. "What else?"

"Fine. For the cake, the French bakery downtown designed a five-tier structural marvel shaped like a medieval castle, dusted with edible twenty-four-karat gold leaf and—"

"Does it taste like cardboard?" Laziel interrupted flatly.

"It’s a masterclass in pastry arts, sir—"

"Get a regular chocolate cake. With actual sprinkles. The kind kids are supposed to eat, not look at."

The chief stared at him, his eye twitching slightly. "Right. Chocolate cake. Got it. And for the guest list? We have RSVPs from three junior senators, two tech moguls who want to curry favor, and the board members’ grandchildren—"

"Cancel them."

"All of them?"

"Children should celebrate with children. Not politicians." Laziel leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "And no business partners."

The chief let out a slow, deeply pained breath, running a hand down his face.

He looked at the billionaire—a ruthless, terrifying man who usually negotiated billion-dollar acquisitions without blinking—currently obsessing over a five-year-old’s snack menu.

The chief couldn’t take it anymore.

"Sir..." he asked slowly, squinting at his boss. "Is this party for Miss Anastelle... or for the United Nations?"

Laziel didn’t miss a beat.

"Neither."

A heavy, deadpan pause.

"It’s for a child."

The chief stared at him for three full seconds, swallowed whatever questions were threatening to get him fired, and closed his notebook. "I’ll handle the chocolate cake, sir."

A few hours later...

Helix had touched down in Milan barely a few hours ago. He hadn’t told a single soul—no associates, no security detail, no one. He didn’t bring his usual fleet of armored vehicles or look like some untouchable cartel boss. Instead, he flew commercial, threw on a plain black hoodie to hide his face, and rented a beat-up, low-profile sedan so the paparazzi wouldn’t sniff him out.

Why was he here? Because his head was completely fucked up. He just needed to see her. He needed to look at the little girl with the unmistakable green eyes with his own two eyes and figure out what the hell was actually real after reading those insane medical reports about a missing twin.

He hadn’t planned on staking out a children’s boutique. He was just aimlessly driving around the city, trying to clear his head, when he spotted Laziel’s chief right hand man walking into the luxury store on the corner. On pure, instinctual impulse, he pulled the rental car over, cutting the engine to watch from across the street.

Then, moments later, the boutique doors swung open again.

Helix leaned forward, narrowing his eyes through the windshield.

A tall man stepped out into the afternoon sunlight.

Helix froze. His breath caught in his throat.

What the actual fuck?

Is that... is that not my stupid-ass stepbrother?

It was Laziel. The cold-blooded, emotionless bastard who ruled half of Italy. He looked like he exclusively ate broken glass for breakfast, and wouldn’t piss on someone if they were on fire.

And what was the dickhead doing?

Laziel Monroe was casually hauling a giant, fluffy pink teddy bear in one arm and three high-end pastel shopping bags in the other like a stressed-out suburban bitch on Christmas Eve.

Helix sat alone in his rental car, his brain completely short-circuiting. He rubbed his eyes, blinking hard, convinced the jetlag and lack of sleep were finally making him hallucinate demons.

Nope. Still there.

His psycho stepbrother adjusted his grip on the giant stuffed animal, looking entirely unbothered, and threw the baby toys into the back of a luxury SUV parked by the curb.

Helix gripped the steering wheel so hard he thought it was going to snap in half.

"I think this idiot has finally gone mad," Helix whispered to the empty car, staring through his windshield in absolute disbelief. "My bastard stepbrother. The literal devil incarnate. Is out here shopping for teddy fucking bears."

He watched through the tinted glass as Laziel climbed behind the wheel of the SUV and peeled off down the street, completely oblivious to the world.

Helix sat back in his seat, his jaw hanging wide open, his mind spinning so fast he forgot why the fuck he even flew to Milan in the first place.