From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 111

**Chapter 8**

“Mr. Morrison, Ms. Sterling has arrived once again…”

The assistant manager lingered hesitantly outside the door, the tension palpable in the air.

“Send her packing! I don’t want to see her face!”

In a fit of rage, Jake hurled his phone to the floor. The device shattered upon impact, the screen fracturing into a chaotic web of cracks, just as the sharp click of Riley’s stilettos echoed down the corridor, drawing nearer.

“Jake, what’s got you all twisted up? Did Chloe really ghost you for good this time?”

She leaned casually against his car, her designer Hermès bag slung over her shoulder, a smirk twisting her crimson lips into a mocking smile.

“The whole office knows you ditched your brand-new wife for your ex. How delightfully cliché, like something straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel.”

“You’ve got some nerve bringing her up right now!”

Jake seized her wrist, his grip tightening painfully, the pressure enough to leave marks.

“If it wasn’t for your ridiculous charade of a marriage, Chloe would never have walked out on me!”

Riley winced, yet her nasty grin remained intact, a mask of defiance.

“Who was it that promised, ‘Riley, I’ll always have your back’? Who swore, ‘We’ll get divorced the moment I sort out my family mess’? And now, suddenly, it’s all my fault?”

She yanked her hand free, her meticulously styled hair cascading over her face, framing her expression of feigned innocence.

“Jake, you’ve been riding on my father’s coattails for years to build this company. And now you wish to discard me like yesterday’s trash?”

The towering glass building loomed around them, reflecting their chaotic confrontation like a scene from a reality television show gone awry.

Jake looked at Riley, a girl he had known since childhood, and in that moment, she felt like a complete stranger.

“You orchestrated this entire disaster, didn’t you? Planning our wedding right when Chloe’s mother was dying, posting those photos just to twist the knife deeper—”

“And what if I did?” Riley interrupted, her mascara beginning to run down her cheeks in dark streaks, a testament to her emotional unraveling.

“Ever since you patched up my scraped knee when we were twelve, I promised myself you’d only have eyes for me! What’s Chloe to you? Some broke college girl who shared ramen with you in that rundown motel? Now that the company’s worth millions, she thinks she deserves to be the CEO’s wife?”

“Let’s not forget that it was your daddy’s money that got you started. If we’re going to air our dirty laundry, let’s talk about those under-the-table deals of yours…”

CRACK!

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

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